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I sat in my room, staring blankly at my altar. I hadn’t even lit the candle or prepared the incense, and I was already stressed, bewildered, and overwhelmed with the drama of the morning.

The episode leading to this emotional state of emergency involved two missing shipping receipts, a lost package in Alaska, and $400 dollars. I was a frantic mess, running around the house, trying desperately to find the pink and gray Post Office notes, certain that I would end up with a very expensive consequence for my dis-organizational tendencies. My husband tried to reassure me, but I couldn’t be consoled. I collapsed into my chair, folded my arms across my chest, and proceeded to pout my very best pout.

He quietly left the room.

After a few minutes alone I thought about making a petition to the Kindreds, and I thumbed through A Book of Pagan Prayer. There was nothing for my specific situation. I started to wonder if there was something ethically problematic about asking for aid in the retrieval of a lost item. Is that too trivial? Should I wait to petition the Kindreds for something more dire? Recovery from a life-threatening illness, perhaps? I didn’t know what to do.

So, I decided to do my devotional anyway. I would approach my altar with sincerity, and, if it felt right in the moment, I would ask for otherworldly assistance in as respectful a way as possible. I would do it in a spirit of ghosti.

I centered. I purified. We opened the Gates. I blessed my offerings and lifted them up to the Kindreds. I lit a fire for Brighid. I sought out guidance through the tarot, and the images were both intuitively correct and intellectually foggy. Then, I approached the altar, closed my eyes and spoke from my heart.

I said that if the Kindreds deemed this cause worthy of their assistance, and if they would kindly help resolve this situation in my favor, I would, in return, donate a portion of the $400 to a group that seeks to restore balance and harmony with the Earth, and that honors the Gods.

There. I’d spoken my peace. I’d also made an oath to the Kindreds; not something a devoted Pagan should take lightly. I felt better. I’d done all I could do. I closed out the space and left my room.

Sitting in his office across the hallway was my husband, typing away at his computer. When he saw me he paused, and reached for something on the desk in front of him. He held up the two missing Post Office receipts. He’d just found them.

I grinned, and chuckled under my breath. How brilliant. How perfect.

Before thinking to long about it, I went back into my room and opened my computer. I went to ADF.org and found the link to “Donate” through their web-store. I made a donation, fulfilling my promise to the Kindreds.

All was right in the world again… just like that.

Ghosti!

March has been quite productive. Spring is definitely upon us!

Week 10

I’ve been working away from home for over half of the month, relying heavily on my portable altar for morning worship. I did not bring my tarot cards with me on my travels, which opened up space in my morning devotional that would normally be spent shuffling and reading. This allowed me to re-connect with the stillness, and place more of an emphasis on reaching out to the Kindreds.

On March 9th I wrote in my journal:

I spent more time in silence and stillness after making my offerings to the Kindreds. It felt good. For a moment, as I was trying to sense their presence, I thought I heard a bit of Irish music playing. I listened for a moment before my mind drifted….

Week 11

The first half of Week 11 was spent away from home, but I had acclimated to my hotel room. I rose each morning in complete darkness and went straight to the small coffee table I used to set up my altar. I started each devotional by atoning the AWEN and reading a series of prayers from the Pagan Ritual Prayer Book. These new additions to my practice felt very natural; a kind or re-connection to the religious tradition of my youth.

On March 12th, I was blessed with a deep experience of worship. I wrote:

This is the first morning in the last 3 that my meditation and worship was fully centered – fully heart-felt, and I attribute that to being done with my work for this trip. The last two days were fine; I made offerings and I held the space, but my mind drifted often, and I didn’t spend time in stillness or reflection. The offerings I made were sincere, though, as there has been an abundance of evidence of blessings in my life. The Kindreds are owed their due.

Today was special. My breath was deeper in, and my mind clear. I took my time speaking my words, paying close attention to direct them to each of the Kindred & to Brighid. I paused after each offering and thought, “Hail ___!”

Once my offerings had been made, I acknowledged how tremendous a week this has been. I spoke of the myriad of experiences and gave thanks that in all of them there was the presence of the Kindreds.

Filled with praise, I lifted up my hands and said, “HAIL” to each, recognizing them and their qualities and attributes. I also praised Arawn. Really praised Him.

Closing, I felt peace. Still do.

My religious tradition brings me so many good things. I am blessed. I am a warrior, and a seeker; a hope-filled bard who sees the world in vibrant color. My pen is my want and my voice is my Sacred Fire!

Week 12

This was a challenging week for me on account of a last minute trip, and a serious shortage of time spent with my husband. In addition, I had a rather poor experience at the Ostara ritual (which I wrote about here).

All this time I’ve been hoping that group ritual would satisfy a longing I had for religion and worship, but it was my solitary practice that brought me back into balance.

The following is a journal excerpt that elaborates on my my post-Ostara ritual experience :

Yesterday’s group ritual was a bust.

But today, alone in my sacred space, surrounded by the warmth and presence of the Great Kindreds, I experienced true worship. Heart open, mind centered, intention clear, I spoke words with sincerity, and in doing so I was welcomed into a great place – a place that felt both intensely close and eternally expansive. My mind’s eye saw the glow, and with my hands uplifted my entire self was whole in Their presence. I spoke a liturgy from the heart; the truest prayer. I spoke in my true voice.

 

I’m experiencing a true deepening of my personal, solitary practice. If it is ever meant to be matched with a rich, deep, group dynamic then so be it. If not, I feel enriched and strengthened by the power of worship and prayer… just me and the Three.