About Sparrow

Sparrow is a writer, priestess, and hierodoule who loves to observe humans. She is a sexual and religious explorer who writes about the grittier side of Paganism and Wicca and how they often intersect with BDSM.

Fume Rite, 1: Chasing a Pillar of Smoke

I’ve written about smoking here some time back.  It was mainly about pot, as I recall.  Or maybe it wasn’t.  Who knows?  Like most things in life, smoking is extremely sexy and it will kill you.  Not only is it sexually stimulating to me when I see people really enjoying a cigarette or cigar (not just mindlessly smoking because they can’t control themselves), but it’s sexually stimulating to me when I smoke a cigarette (or these days an ehookah).  And it’s not just the nicotine stimulating brain chemicals, it’s the act of inhalation, drawing the smoke into your mouth and lungs and manipulating it once it’s in your body.

From start to finish, it gets me sopping.  The flick of a nice, REAL lighter is like a lover breathing lightly on my neck.

 And then the orgasm of it all are the smoking tricks.  My favorite is the French Inhale.  I enjoy doing it, but I like it even better if it’s executed by the other party.  It’s like I can just almost feel the smoker going down on me by extension of the smoke.  

 It is as complicated as it looks, but like most tricks some folks can do it the first go round and some folks just never get the hang of it.  It can be done with any kind of smoke, including vapor, although it’s a harder with vape.  Here’s a great how-to video for the French Inhale and other Tricks.

I’ve always been fascinated with smoking.  I grew up in a smoking household.  It was there and visible.  I grew up in tobacco country, where the notion that smoking was a health hazard was for the most part scoffed at.  I started smoking when I was 14 because, as I stated earlier, it excited me sexually, especially when I saw it in black and white movies.  I’ve been an occasional, recreational, social smoker ever since.

I first became acquainted with the “real” ritualistic use of smoking in modern times at a Fume Rite exhibit in college.  It was staged, picture by picture, like an art exhibit, but it was one of those exhibits that the artistic merit wasn’t so much in the how-to drawings, but in the actual execution of the ritual itself.  Had it actually been carried out, it would have resembled a Japanese tea ceremony.  Of course the irony was that it was hung in a “no smoking” gallery.  I’m currently working on chasing a pillar of smoke to find out more about Fume Rite.  As it is now, I’m working off of memories a decade old and no internet leads.

So, if you’d like to help, and you know something about Fume Rite (which I want to say was celebrated on April 15 and October 15), please email me at chirpatsparrow@gmail.com.  If you don’t know anything, but you’d still like to help, then find something smokey to inhale and say a prayer that the information comes my way.  Societies all around the world, including the Roman Catholic church, believe that prayers are carried to heaven via smoke (and I believe in our modern times vapor).  If you just can’t bring yourself to inhale, choose a nice incense, preferably frankincense because it’ll give you a little mild bit of hallucinatory buzz if burned in an unventilated environment, and burn it with your prayers.

 

 

Back on track!

Well, I’m back finally from my very long hiatus.  I didn’t intend for it to last as long as it did, but there were some blog issues that had to be resolved.  And I flew the coop and migrated west and built a new nest and hatched some chicks.  That took some time too.  But, anyway, I’m back and I’ve got lots of new posts lined up.  If you would like to contribute a guest post at any time, please email me at chirpatsparrow@gmail.com.  Please note the new email address and update your files.  I’m also working on setting up a companion podcast on tumblr.

 

Susannah Martin Memorial Day

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Susannah_Martin

The Witch’s Daughter

It was the pleasant harvest time,
When cellar-bins are closely stowed,
And garrets bend beneath their load,

And the old swallow-haunted barns -
Brown-gabled, long, and full of seams
Through which the moted sunlight streams,

And winds blow freshly in, to shake
The red plumes of the roosted cocks,
And the loose hay-mow’s scented locks -

Are filled with summer’s ripened stores,
Its odorous grass and barley sheaves,
From their low scaffolds to their eaves.

On Esek Harden’s oaken floor,
With many an autmn threshing worn,
Lay the heaped ears of unhusked corn.

And thither came young men and maids,
Beneath a moon that, large and low,
Lit that sweet eve of long ago.

They took their places; some by chance,
And others by a merry voice
Or sweet smile guided to their choice.

How pleasantly the rising moon,
Between the shadow of the mows,
Looked on them through the great elm-boughs! -

On sturdy boyhood sun-embrowned,
On girlhood with its solid curves
Of healthful strength and painless nerves!

And jests went round, and laughs that made
The house-dog answer with his howl,
And kept astir the barn-yard fowl;

And quaint old songs their fathers sung
In Derby dales and Yorkshire moors,
Ere Norman William trod their shores;

And tales, whose merry license shook
The fat sides of the Saxon thane,
Forgetful of the hovering Dane,—­

Rude plays to Celt and Cimbri known,
The charms and riddles that beguiled
On Oxus’ banks the young world’s child,—­

That primal picture-speech wherein
Have youth and maid the story told,
So new in each, so dateless old,

Recalling pastoral Ruth in her
Who waited, blushing and demure,
The red-ear’s kiss of forfeiture.

But still the sweetest voice was mute
That river-valley ever heard
From lips of maid or throat of bird;

For Mabel Martin sat apart,
And let the hay-mow’s shadow fall
Upon the loveliest face of all.

She sat apart, as one forbid,
Who knew that none would condescend
To own the Witch-wife’s child a friend.

The seasons scarce had gone their round,
Since curious thousands thronged to see
Her mother at the gallows-tree;

And mocked the prison-palsied limbs
That faltered on the fatal stairs,
And wan lip trembling with its prayers!

Few questioned of the sorrowing child,
Or, when they saw the mother die;
Dreamed of the daughter’s agony.

They went up to their homes that day,
As men and Christians justified
God willed it, and the wretch had died!

Dear God and Father of us all,
Forgive our faith in cruel lies,—­
Forgive the blindness that denies!

Forgive thy creature when he takes,
For the all-perfect love Thou art,
Some grim creation of his heart.

Cast down our idols, overturn
Our bloody altars; let us see
Thyself in Thy humanity!

Poor Mabel from her mother’s grave
Crept to her desolate hearth-stone,
And wrestled with her fate alone;

With love, and anger, and despair,
The phantoms of disordered sense,
The awful doubts of Providence!

The school-boys jeered her as they passed,
And, when she sought the house of prayer,
Her mother’s curse pursued her there.

And still o’er many a neighboring door
She saw the horseshoe’s curved charm,
To guard against her mother’s harm; -

That mother, poor, and sick, and lame,
Who daily, by the old arm-chair,
Folded her withered hands in prayer; -

Who turned, in Salem’s dreary jail,
Her worn old Bible o’er and o’er,
When her dim eyes could read no more!

Sore tried and pained, the poor girl kept
Her faith, and trusted that her way,
So dark, would somewhere meet the day.

And still her weary wheel went round
Day after day, with no relief
Small leisure have the poor for grief.

So in the shadow Mabel sits;
Untouched by mirth she sees and hears,
Her smile is sadder than her tears.

But cruel eyes have found her out,
And cruel lips repeat her name,
And taunt her with her mother’s shame.

She answered not with railing words,
But drew her apron o’er her face,
And, sobbing, glided from the place.

And only pausing at the door,
Her sad eyes met the troubled gaze
Of one who, in her better days,

Had been her warm and steady friend,
Ere yet her mother’s doom had made
Even Esek Harden half afraid.

He felt that mute appeal of tears,
And, starting, with an angry frown,
Hushed all the wicked murmurs down.

‘Good neighbors mine,’ he sternly said,
‘This passes harmless mirth or jest;
I brook no insult to my guest.

‘She is indeed her mother’s child;
But God’s sweet pity ministers
Unto no whiter soul than hers.

‘Let Goody Martin rest in peace;
I never knew her harm a fly,
And witch or not, God knows – not I.

‘I know who swore her life away;
And as God lives, I’d not condemn
An Indian dog on word of them.’

The broadest lands in all the town,
The skill to guide, the power to awe,
Were Harden’s; and his word was law.

None dared withstand him to his face,
But one sly maiden spake aside
‘The little witch is evil-eyed!

‘Her mother only killed a cow,
Or witched a churn or dairy-pan;
But she, forsooth, must charm a man!’

Poor Mabel, in her lonely home,
Sat by the window’s narrow pane,
White in the moonlight’s silver rain.

The river, on its pebbled rim,
Made music such as childhood knew;
The door-yard tree was whispered through

By voices such as childhood’s ear
Had heard in moonlights long ago;
And through the willow-boughs below.

She saw the rippled waters shine;
Beyond, in waves of shade and light,
The hills rolled off into the night.

She saw and heard, but over all
A sense of some transforming spell,
The shadow of her sick heart fell.

And still across the wooded space
The harvest lights of Harden shone,
And song and jest and laugh went on.

And he, so gentle, true, and strong,
Of men the bravest and the best,
Had he, too, scorned her with the rest?

She strove to drown her sense of wrong,
And, in her old and simple way,
To teach her bitter heart to pray.

Poor child! the prayer, begun in faith,
Grew to a low, despairing cry
Of utter misery: ‘Let me die!

‘Oh! take me from the scornful eyes,
And hide me where the cruel speech
And mocking finger may not reach!

‘I dare not breathe my mother’s name
A daughter’s right I dare not crave
To weep above her unblest grave!

‘Let me not live until my heart,
With few to pity, and with none
To love me, hardens into stone.

‘O God! have mercy on Thy child,
Whose faith in Thee grows weak and small,
And take me ere I lose it all!’

A shadow on the moonlight fell,
And murmuring wind and wave became
A voice whose burden was her name.

Had then God heard her? Had He sent
His angel down? In flesh and blood,
Before her Esek Harden stood!

He laid his hand upon her arm
‘Dear Mabel, this no more shall be;
Who scoffs at you must scoff at me.

‘You know rough Esek Harden well;
And if he seems no suitor gay,
And if his hair is touched with gray,

‘The maiden grown shall never find
His heart less warm than when she smiled,
Upon his knees, a little child!’

Her tears of grief were tears of joy,
As, folded in his strong embrace,
She looked in Esek Harden’s face.

‘O truest friend of all” she said,
‘God bless you for your kindly thought,
And make me worthy of my lot!’

He led her through his dewy fields,
To where the swinging lanterns glowed,
And through the doors the huskers showed.

‘Good friends and neighbors!’ Esek said,
‘I’m weary of this lonely life;
In Mabel see my chosen wife!

‘She greets you kindly, one and all;
The past is past, and all offence
Falls harmless from her innocence.

‘Henceforth she stands no more alone;
You know what Esek Harden is: -
He brooks no wrong to him or his.’

Now let the merriest tales be told,
And let the sweetest songs be sung
That ever made the old heart young!

For now the lost has found a home;
And a lone hearth shall brighter burn,
As all the household joys return!

Oh, pleasantly the harvest-moon,
Between the shadow of the mows,
Looked on them through the great elm-boughs!

On Mabel’s curls of golden hair,
On Esek’s shaggy strength it fell;
And the wind whispered, ‘It is well!’

John Greenleaf Whittier :
While Susannah Martin wasn’t probably a witch by today’s standards, her neighbors thought she was.  Think this couldn’t happen to you?  Think again.  It still does all the time in all different parts of the world, even in the US.
These folks know to beware of young teenage girls:

Mystic Artisanshttps://www.facebook.com/mysticartisans

Passion And Soulhttp://passionandsoul.com/

Tonia Brown:  www.thebackseatwriter.com

Hyperdreams Interactive Storieshttp://www.hyperdreams.com/

Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness

Let my worship be within the heart that rejoices, for behold, all acts of love and pleasure are my rituals…” —Charge of the Goddess

by Issac Bonewits

THESE are the times that try men’s souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as FREEDOM should not be highly rated.” –The Crisis by Thomas Paine (http://www.ushistory.org/paine/crisis/c-01.htm)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rIYlAdxlIzI

Whether you believe it or not, I am a huge Patriot.  However, I’m extremely skeptical of the US government, and I always have been.  When I was in 6th grade I put a sticker on my violin case that says “I love my country, but I fear my government.” (Bet you didn’t know that I played…..)  Pagans, as a whole, whether they themselves are bright enough to realize it, are big Patriots too.  While they may not be the 2nd Amendment and state’s rights advocate that I am, every single one of us values our 1st Amendment right to the freedom of religion and the right to publicly bitch about this right getting trampled on by people who believe that America’s founding fathers were overwhelmingly Christian (they were mainly deists, by the way).  Every Independence Day I gleefully blow up things while embracing the true spirit of our national anthem, making sure to be really drunk so that I can hit the high notes, and pondering how the name “de Kalb” makes me automatically think of penises–specifically the heads of penises.  I occasionally blow up things on that perhaps spurious holiday of Mec Dec Day–just because I can as a good Patriot.  I like to think of it as Independence Day practice.  I also have this insane desire/obsession with joining the DAR–like they’d ever take me!  Even if I can prove the right ancestors, he’d probably end up being some Tory bastard that doesn’t count (and FYI, adopted relatives do not count for the DAR who are a little WASP).

During the last couple months my matron deity has been turning my head toward the archetype/goddess of Liberty (or perhaps it’s just Selena Fox trying to recruit me through mind control for the Lady Liberty League since I constantly jump nude on my First Amendment trampoline).  It’s been a curious kind of meditation.

Liberty as a word means: “the state of being free within society from oppressive restrictions imposed by authority on one’s way of life, behavior, or political views.”  Sounds a lot like St. Aradia’s view on the world and why in some of the older versions of the Charge of the Goddess Pagans are encouraged to worship skyclad.  Liberty use to be used more in every day speech than it is now.  When was the last time that you heard the word used in a conversation that didn’t center around politics?  Does the Navy still use it to describe shore leave?  I don’t know, but the scuttlebutt says no.  There are some that would argue that a love of liberty leads one to be a libertine, but since when has that been a bad thing?

While I take a break to paint my fingernails and toenails red, white, and blue, since those are America’s magical power colors, let’s put on our Neil Gaiman hats for a moment.  We need to get into that whole “American Gods” mindset to tackle the next little bit of information (go paint your nails while you get into the right frame of mind, or Google “American Gods”).

The Goddess Liberty can be seen in many forms in many different cultures, but our modern view of her and her daughters and permutations, stem from ancient Rome (wow, what a big fucking surprise) as Libertas.

From there, she traveled all over the Roman Empire, specifically to Britain, where she fornicated, fused, and mused with Bride (and her other forms as well), to form Britannia.

I want some golden nipple money!

 

The English colonists brought her with them from over the water, to fornicate, fuse, and muse once more with the new deities in the New World to create Columbia.  If you open up another tab and do a quick Google images search of “Liberty”, “Britannia”, “Columbia”, and even “Justice”, they all look very similar.  From the Roman era, through the Victorian, up until now.  Some of the images are so similar that it’s creepy.

There is a modern artist out there that is trying to change the stock image of Columbia and to resurrect her to social prominence (because here again, how often is the goddess Columbia talked about any more.  You hear “Columbia” and you automatically want to say, “Where I get my drugs.”).

Holly DeFount is the curator, artist, and vision behind “Columbia Rising: Revisioning the American Goddess”.  I have to admit, when I first saw that word “revisioning,” Reclaiming fluffiness immediately came to mind.  But after thoroughly pursuing her site, I don’t think that her project is that kind of revisioning.  Instead, this is more along the lines of fingering a muted goddess back to screaming as oppose to just giving her new make-up for a new era.

You can’t very well stay quiet if you have fire licking at your clit.  DeFount has a master plan for her project.  While she has been working on creating new images for Columbia within her own framework of being an American, she has also put out the call to other artists of all kinds to lift Columbia back up in their own ways.  The first “Columbia Rising” exhibit will be July 11, 2014, but it’s assumed that other exhibits will soon be planned and booked.  http://columbiarising.com/exhibit-2014/  If you fancy yourself talented and creative, then you really should make an effort to participate in this magic.  How often are you given the opportunity to help kindle the fire that will reforge a goddess?  If you like to bitch about the government, now is your opportunity to do something to change the way things are.  What do you think Columbia is going to do once she’s washes the ashes off her face?  Just gaze about in proud admiration?  NO!  She’s going to take names and whoop ass!  Like from the previous post, channel St. Aradia and be a part of the solution instead of just an apathetic waste of resources.

By the way, even the American colonists weren’t happy with the amount of freedom and liberty that they had after they won the American Revolution.  Before the end of George Washington’s term in office, citizens in Pennsylvania staged an arm rebellion over taxes on whiskey.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xvaEJzoaYZk

Be at liberty to check out these freedom mongers:

Mystic Artisanshttps://www.facebook.com/mysticartisans

Passion And Soulhttp://passionandsoul.com/

Tonia Brown:  www.thebackseatwriter.com

 Hyperdreams Interactive Storieshttp://www.hyperdreams.com/

Holly Queen Challenge

For Litha 2013 (http://barbedpentacle.com/2013/06/the-litha-challenge-something-fun-crafty-and-potentially-gritty/), I challenged everyone to make a “living wall” for the summer as suggested on Magaly Guerrero’s blog, Pagan Culture (http://pagan-culture.blogspot.com/2013/06/a-living-wall-for-midsummer.html) and to send in pictures. If you would like to participate, send in pictures of your wall and descriptions to chirp_sparrow@yahoo.com.  Please put “Holly Queen Challenge” in the subject line.

Here’s mine:

 

Pedro from South of the Boarder (http://www.thesouthoftheborder.com/), the best place to go when inebriated.

 

This is my bikini top from Mexico and ring from Magdalena, a piece of blue creek glass that a house mate gave me this summer, and my Almalthea horns from a sacrifice.

 

This is my cowerie collar for all those fun money spells, my new business cards that are attached with cloak clips that have tons of fun uses, my gypsy ear rings, and the skin that my snake shed at Litha. The beads that are holding everything up is a belly chain from my belly dancing days.

 

These are my favorite tracts so far this summer on my red hot tract panties and my new fly swatter from my honey.

 

Bellatrix S’s wall and posthttp://armedvenus.blogspot.com/2013/07/the-road-and-wall-not-actually-asoiaf.html

Yule Challenge 2013  send your pics to chirp_sparrow@yahoo.com

From the top: Evil Eye candy for 2014, the crystal from the Perchta Power Project, my “confidence” clothes pin from our annual Krampus/Perchta ritual, yarn from a Songbird Snuggle, money for the New Year, greenery and prickles from our sexy Yule meditation, and last but not least–Perchta and Krampus by Aramis September.

St. Aradia: A Pagan Values Blogject Post

As long time readers know, I look forward to the Pagan Values Blogject every June because it gives me an opportunity to rant in ways that I don’t normally engage in on this blog (except for occasionally in a PSA),and it is often the entry that breaks my spring hiatus from fucking in the fields.  The same is more or less true this year.  If you haven’t already checked it out, here is a link to the blogject:  http://paganvalues.wordpress.com/.  If you write a blog, I encourage you to participate.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vIpQOC2TtXQ

I’m a documentary nut.  Netflix passively aggressively feeds this addiction by supplying me with cool suggestions and then once I pick one, it conveniently goes out for fifteen minutes or some such FCC bullshit as that.  A lot of documentaries cover the plight of people around the world and here in the US.  You know that any time you see the word “plight” in the documentary description that these people are not living in pleasant circumstances.  In fact, “oppressive” often follows “plight” in these teasers.  My most recent documentary fixation has been in the women’s studies department with titles like “It’s a girl!” and “Half the sky”.  Not pleasant documentaries, but timely ones.  (There was that one about a kibbutz  that was really interesting, but that’s for another post.)

Aradia, that controversial figure that is revered by many Pagans, was all about empowerment and overcoming oppression.  According to Leland and his “truthful” accounts, Aradia promised “ye shall all be freed from slavery, / And so ye shall be free in everything.”  If you slog through the text, Aradia in the end comes off as a little bit like Joan Baez and a little bit of a Commie or at least a socialist.  However, those are not necessarily bad things.  Those are some of the same virtues that Franklin Roosevelt and his lovely wife Eleanor had, and with out them, poor people and red necks all over the US would be starving and worse off than they are now.

Although a lot of Pagans view Aradia as a goddess-type figure, I don’t.  I’m really fascinated by her, but I see her more as a saint.  She’s someone who may or may not have been alive at one point, she did good works supposedly, and you can pray to her to intercede on your behalf.

Aradia was all about ending oppression.  Even the most apathetic and cold-hearted Pagans can get behind the cause of lifting an oppressive force in a person’s life.  While there are many Pagan groups that have started their own programs or that are supporting already existing programs in their own areas, there are many Pagans out there who do nothing.  Even the poorest Pagans (and it’s these folks who often do the most) can usually scrounge a few pennies out from underneath the couch cushions to leave in the “leave a penny/take a penny” box at the convenience store.  We are a loose collection of religious beliefs that at its core values freedom over oppressive forces.  Since this is the case, I challenge you this summer to follow Aradia’s example and choose a cause to support in some way that will lift an oppressive force from somebody else’s life.  If you hear about a really cool Pagan organization that is doing this or if your Pagan group is doing something cool, please feel free to email me at chirpatsparrow@gmail.com.  You never know when you might need St. Aradia to come and lift your oppression.

Oppress these folks with your Internet browsing:

Mystic Artisanshttps://www.facebook.com/mysticartisans

Passion And Soulhttp://passionandsoul.com/

Hyperdreams Interactive Storieshttp://www.hyperdreams.com/

Beware of the Jezebel Spirit! A Pagan Service Announcement

I don’t often repost blogs from other people, but I came across this tonight when I was taking a break from other projects and doing some research for upcoming “Barbed Pentacle” posts, and I have to say that I laughed so hard that I thought I was going to have to be cut out of my corset.  I laughed and laughed and laughed.  And I may have passed out a little.  But when I came to, it occurred to me that it’s stupid shit like this that gets good people killed.  It’s a little long, but it’s worth the read.  My favorite quote is “Whoredom spirits can even make the homely look sexually attractive.”  If that is true, then I’m spreading my legs wide!

Jezebel!!!!

http://www.jonasclark.com/spiritual-warfare-prayer/sex-seduction-jezebel-spirit-whoredoms.html

These folks are spreading their legs for Jezebel and her whoredom spirits:

Mystic Artisanshttps://www.facebook.com/mysticartisans

Passion And Soulhttp://passionandsoul.com/

Help with the project: http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/more-shibari-you-can-use

Tonia Brown:  www.thebackseatwriter.com

Quadrivium Supplies:  http://www.quadrivium-supplies.com/  

Hyperdreams Interactive Storieshttp://www.hyperdreams.com/

Straight Laced and Well Embraced

Happy Ostara!

Psst, come here and give me a hug.  Can you feel what’s hugging me as you hug me?  If you don’t know what that is, then your ignorance about foundation garments is appalling. Some days are corset days, some days are bra days, and some days are dirty hippie days when I wear nothing at all.

I like corsets.  I don’t wear them tight enough to permanently change my shape.  I wear them just tight enough that they’re not slipping around and being uncomfortable.  I can do anything in a corset: fuck, toss cabers, cook, drive, run, kneel and suck, ride carousels– anything I want to do.  I like corsets because it feels like someone is always hugging me, like a lover wrapping his or her arms around me as they look over my shoulder.

There are tons of different styles of corsets, ranging from from ancient to modern.  I prefer a corset that’s more in a modest Victorian style–one that covers my tits (because why should you have to wear a bra with a corset?  That’s stupid!) and comes down far enough on my hips that when I kneel or bend over it doesn’t slip up over the waist band of my jeans.

While corsets may seem expensive and time consuming, they’re really not.

In the long run, corsets work out to be cheaper than bras, especially if you shop around and take good care of your garments.  You only need one corset (although more is always fun).  You don’t wash it more than once a year (if that).  You hang it over a hanger in the closet to air, if you want you can put fabric refresher on it, and the only other expense is buying camisoles to go under the corset.  Cotton camis are much cheaper than bras and much easier to wash.  Once you practice a time or two, putting on your corset is a cinch because you shouldn’t unlace it after every wearing.  You only need to loosen the laces before storage.

 

Ideally, corsets should be just tight enough not to slide around, like someone giving you a nice hug.  There is the practice of corset training, which is a form of body modification.  During the Victorian Era, it was the norm to purposely and permanently change a woman’s shape by using corset training. 

Corset piercing is another popular form of body modification.

Magically, corsets are like egg shells–protective and decorative.  They can be used for magical and psychic protection since they cover your heart, solar plexus, and sacral chakras.

Your corset, when used magically, is an extension of your psychic walls of protection.  You can use color magic to boost this principle, applique on stones, or embroider or paint runes and sigils on your corset.

Since corsets shouldn’t be washed, Florida water, of Hoodoo and Zora Neale Hurston fame, can be dabbed on the inside seams that cover the boning to cleanse your corset psychically and to give it a nice scent.  Why those particular areas?  When applied to the inside seams that cover the boning, the Florida water won’t seep through to the front of the corset and potentially stain the material. (Thanks Ms. Finch!)

Corsets can also be used for self-bondage.  A wonderful self bondage/suspension substitution is to lace yourself into a corset (and for this you may lace a little tighter than for normal wear) and go swing on a high “big kid” swing at the park. You know, the ones that get really high into the air.

Just enjoy the moment.  Use it as a meditation or a private, sexual moment (or both).  Once you get high enough, lean back and just let your body fly through the air–only pumping enough to maintain your height.  When you’re done, you can use the gradually slowing motion to bring yourself back down to reality.

These folks hope that you all have a very fun Ostara and fuck like bunnies:

Mystic Artisanshttps://www.facebook.com/mysticartisans

Passion And Soulhttp://passionandsoul.com/

Help with the project: http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/more-shibari-you-can-use

Tonia Brown:  www.thebackseatwriter.com

Quadrivium Supplies:  http://www.quadrivium-supplies.com/  

Hyperdreams Interactive Storieshttp://www.hyperdreams.com/

 

 

Slender, Sexy Switches

For long time readers (and those who know me best), it’s no secret how I adore switches.  The sound, the sensation, the agonizing anticipation of peeking through the window to see a lover cutting one, the horrible indecision of having to cut one for yourself, the absolute fun of gauging what kind of swish factor to inflict on a waiting sub, I love it all.  And my absolute favorites are the floral switches of the spring blooming shrubs!  Forsythias, also called yellow bells, are what I dream about all winter long.  If you’ve not read the previous Barbed Pentacle posts about switches, you can now:  http://barbedpentacle.com/228-2/  http://barbedpentacle.com/2012/03/say-it-with-a-switch-integrating-floral-switches-into-your-play-and-ritual/  http://barbedpentacle.com/2011/12/happy-krampusnacht/

On Mach 30, 2014, I will be presenting a class “Slender, Sexy Switches” at the LoftNC at 3:30pm.  This is, of course, for those who are 18 and older.  If you are interested in attending, please email the house mistress at loftnc@gmail.com for more information (pricing, location, etc.) and to RSVP.  If you would like to attend, please feel free to bring switches of your own, if you like, pruning shears, pocket knife, and fine grain sand paper.  We’ll be learning about choosing and preparing switches and rods, neat ideas for using them in play, safety and after care, and you never know, there may even be a demo.

For more information on The LoftNC, check out them out on FetLife: https://fetlife.com/groups/63797/group_posts/4463882  and at their website:  http://www.loftnc.com/splash.php

************************************Updated: 3/29/14***************************

The house mistress at The LoftNC decided to sacrifice my class to progress, basically.  I received a Fetlife message this evening, dated 4 days ago, that due to space issues at the Loft that my class was being canceled and would be rescheduled at a future time.  Yep, I’m sure you can smell that too, and there are no cows anywhere around you.  So, I’ll keep you posted.  Thanks for your support, those that RSVPed.  And if you have a venue that you’d like me to teach at, just drop me a line at chirp_sparrow@yahoo.com.

These folks like the little bites of a good birch rod:

Mystic Artisanshttps://www.facebook.com/mysticartisans

Passion And Soulhttp://passionandsoul.com/

Help with the project: http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/more-shibari-you-can-use

Tonia Brown:  www.thebackseatwriter.com

Quadrivium Supplies:  http://www.quadrivium-supplies.com/  

Hyperdreams Interactive Storieshttp://www.hyperdreams.com/

 

Tie on that apron and flour up your bosom, Ms Kay!, Part 3

Does Ms. Kay wear granny panties or something more spicy?

You’re a dumpling, Ms. Kay!  One of my favorite things about Duck Dynasty is watching the interactions between Phil and his wife, Ms. Kay.  Phil is a horny old man and Ms. Kay is an equally horny old lady.  Phil seems to know every verse in the Bible that deals with husbands and wives having sex, which he quotes often to Ms. Kay when he’s in the mood.  He really likes Ms. Kay in the kitchen.

Notice the grammar error? Ms. Kay is married, not an unattached dumpling just rolling around in flour.

Phil has a thing for aprons, especially ones that have a little flour sprinkled on the bosom from baking and cooking.

On the show, both Phil and Ms. Kay instruct their grandchildren on the importance of aprons.  Phil advises his grandsons that a good girl to marry will be a country girl who carries her Bible and who cooks and wears an apron.  He tells them that if she’s a little messy and has flour on her apron, all the better.  Of course, he also tells them to marry a teenager, like he did.  That’s a little Jerry Lee Lewis, Phil!

Ms. Kay admonishes her granddaughters that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach and that nothing turns a man on more than for them to come home to supper cooking and to see you in an apron.  And, she adds, if you want to make sure that the man knows you mean business and your amorous intentions, you smear a little flour on your apron.  You’re such a dumpling, Ms. Kay!

It’s ok, Phil, I have a thing for aprons too.  I think they’re sexy and hot.  I like seeing girls in aprons, and I feel awesome when I wear one.  Sexy, lacy ones, homey ones, it doesn’t matter.  I can be sexy a French maid, a prairie Mormon girl, or Baron de Kalb’s camp follower just by putting on a different style of apron.  I feel focused, protected, and an object of affection when I wear my apron.  Aprons are wonderful because there are so many different styles; there’s always one that’s going to be flattering.

Aprons hold more than apples and sex appeal, they also hold a great deal of magic.  People have always known this.  Think of the Masons’ with their aprons.  From what I understand, everyone wears one at their meetings.  This magic easily extends to kitchen magic, the most obvious use of aprons in a ritual setting.  Wearing an apron can be a devotional act to your personal domestic deity.  Wearing an apron can also be seen as donning magical clothing for magical cooking.  If it’s just you, try adding things to your apron to aid you in your magic, like runes, symbolic patches, and charms.  If you have several people helping you, like with baking cakes for cakes and ale or with dinner for after ritual or at a festival, try having you and your helpers wear aprons whose colors correspond to the God and Goddess and the elements.  It adds a nice ritualistic element to what can be horrible drudgery.  It also helps to make everyone feel needed when there might really be too many cooks in the kitchen.

Of course, the same principles can be applied to gardening aprons for individual or group magical gardening projects and for cleaning projects.  Just as with the cooking aprons, symbols that will aid growth and planting, or in the case of cleaning, clearing, banishing and cleansing, can be added to the aprons.  A good garden apron might be green with lots of flowers or vegetables on it, and of course lots of pockets because aprons above all else need to be functional.  A good cleaning apron may be black for banishing clutter or red for fueling your desires to have a clean living area.  I want an apron that has a picture of that hottie Mr. Clean smiling up at me, like over my bosom or something.  All those muscles!

Aprons are very appropriate in typical ritual settings too.  Instead of wearing pouches or having a cluttered altar with all the little “tiny” tools that you need, like lighters and oil bottles and salt, etc, create a cool, funky apron with lots of pockets.  I saw the perfect example of this on this beautiful, sweet Valentino vamp in Mexico.  It was like a short skirt full of pockets that fastened with Velcro in the back that she wore over her jeans.  She used it like a purse.  It was awesome.  A cheap tool apron from the hardware store (or sometimes the dollar store has them) could easily be converted.  You can also add bells and jingles for dancing.

This is at the Museum of York County in South Carolina.

Ritual aprons can also be used like badge sashes if you’re in a coven or group that has different classes or levels.

This one belongs to Willow, a Strega.

They can be made of cloth or more like a Mason apron and made out of leather.

Keep your apron on for the next post where we discuss just what we’re going to do about Phil Robertson.

Heal me, Phil Robertson!

These folks like to eat dumplings:

Slender, Sexy Switches Class at the Loft NC,  March 30, 2014 presented by me!  https://fetlife.com/groups/63797/group_posts/4463882  http://www.loftnc.com/splash.php

Mystic Artisanshttps://www.facebook.com/mysticartisans

Passion And Soulhttp://passionandsoul.com/

Help with the project: http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/more-shibari-you-can-use

Tonia Brown:  www.thebackseatwriter.com

Quadrivium Supplies:  http://www.quadrivium-supplies.com/  

Hyperdreams Interactive Storieshttp://www.hyperdreams.com/