Sparrow’s Chirps on the Perchta Power Project

Visit Sparrow’s profile on Pinterest.  This is where I’ve been pinning all my visual ideas.  I’ve been working on this project on and off for the last 3 or so years, maybe more.  

And it was a hard concept to really pin down and formulate.  Hell, I’m still trying to formulate it into something that is easy to implement and that makes sense.  Domestic discipline has always been an overwhelming desire in my life, and when it’s not present, there is a void that leaves me unbalanced and unproductive.  It’s like automatic chi chaos. It’s unimaginably frustrating, and the lack of domestic discipline ultimately leaves me feeling lost, lonely, and scattered.  I have to have that structure in my life, and it has nothing really at all to do with submission or masochism.  Well, maybe submission.  In my experience, it’s really hard for me to function without the structure of domestic discipline.  Now with that said, I completely balk if a lot of unnecessary, arbitrary demands, rules, or dumbass whims are imposed on me.  I just need structure, not dominant idiocy.

Some people practice domestic discipline outside of the context of religion, but many religious people do practice domestic discipline within a religious context because religion, aside from many of them having texts dealing with this concept, is something done in the privacy of the home, just like domestic discipline is practiced within the privacy of the home.  Christianity, Islam, and to lesser extents Judaism and Hinduism, all have religious texts and scriptures that lay out how a home should be run, how the “boss” should act and what that person should aim to achieve, and how the subordinate person in the domestic partnership should act and what they should hope to achieve.   Christianity, in particular, is absolutely obese with such rules and scriptures, and some of them are written in quite pretty verse.  While Christianity has a plethora of such religious advice, Paganism has a dearth because there is no set body of scripture.  Some of the religious traditions that some Pagans follow do have here and there snippets of scriptures or myths referring to what we would call domestic discipline, but for the most part Pagans are left to create and fend for themselves in this respect.  So, that’s what I’ve done.  Or tried to do.  I’ll add stuff here from time to time to act as a work space for me and to help explain on a more personal level some of the inspiration for the companion page “The Perchta Power Project”.  (written 5/6/15)

So, taking my own advice, and some of the advice that I’ve collected from my pins on Pinterest, I have set up my altar (command center).  This is my third attempt at one.  Hopefully this time it will work.  It’s kind of a split affair.  Part of it is by the door and the other part is directly across the room in my corner (it’s my little happy spot).  My two previous altars were in the kitchen.  They constantly got overwhelmed/overrun with clutter and cooking stuff.  This time should be different.  The spot by the door is vertical on the wall.  All I did was get several huge binder clips and some push pins.  I’ve hung the binder clips on the wall via the push pins.  One clips holds a calendar with everything in the world on it.  Another one holds a blank write in calendar where I write down chores that I’d like my partner and roommates to please do.  Another one holds the current bills.  And the last one currently holds cool calendar stickers that make going to the gynecologist seem vaguely fun, but it’s really just a free clip to hold whatever.  In my corner, I have my notebooks.  I’m still working on a book of shadows (filofax/binder), but so far I just have notebooks and pocket calendars.  I have a pocket calendar in my purse that mirrors the calendar on my altar, a pocket calendar and notebook for my work here on “The Barbed Pentacle” and a notebook and pocket calendar for my other job.  I keep these things, along with a phone book, a personal filled-in address/phone book, and a small note pad, in a fake Rubbermaid draw system (along with other crap).  I’ve been using the small note book for my daily to-do lists.  Evidently highly functional people use to-do lists and make a ritual of writing that to-do list every night before bed.  I’m only on day one of that routine, so the jury is still out.  I also keep my vitamins and supplements in the same drawer as my notebooks.  That way I kind of remember to take them after I eat since I usually eat in my corner.  It’s my special space.  (May 24, 2015)

Long time readers know that I don’t usually talk a great deal about myself on this blog.  It serves other purposes than to be a temple to me, unlike other people’s blogs.  However, since the blog’s main purpose is to explore the grittier side of Paganism, and you can’t get much grittier than a goddess who slits open people’s bellies, here we go.

I started working with Perchta two years or more ago.  I was encouraged by my matron goddess to work with Perchta, but it’s been a long road to getting her to pay me much attention.  It’s kind of been like that training scene in the Kill Bill movies where Bea Kiddo is working with the Kung Fu master who despises her.  My matron is more or less like a spiritual domme.  If there’s something that I need to be taught that she doesn’t want or is too frustrated to teach me, she sends me off for a bit to someone else.  One time it was Pomona, another time Inanna, it just depends.  For my domestic issues (which I’ll get to in a bit), she first sent me to Hestia, who did not even give me the time of day through her veil.  I guess she knew that I would be a difficult case.  She just waved her hand like a spoiled Frenchman and sent me away.  So then I was sent to Freya, who decided that she just wasn’t quite the right goddess, but that she knew somebody who was–Frau Perchta, the belly slitter.

Before we go further, I suppose that I should go into briefly, just what my domestic issues are.  I’m a clutterbug (different from Clutterbuck, who may or may not really have existed).  ”Clutterbug” may be considered by some to be an understatement.  While certain people who know me like to be cruel and call me that horrible word that starts with an “H”, according to my non-existent psychology degree, I’m not that because I can get rid of things.  Basically, I hate housework, I have a lot of stuff,  I’m unorganized, and I live with other people who are equally unorganized.  Oh, and unlike other Southern girls, I was never really taught how to properly keep a house.  I was told to go outside and play.  Or I was told to just “do it” and it would lead to frustration on my and my mother’s part when I would fail horribly at whatever household task I was put to.  To be honest, my mother has never really done many household chores.  Her one chore that she did obsessively (and still does) is laundry.  I never learned how to properly do laundry.  I learned how to use a washing machine in high school when I worked at a kennel and had to wash dog bedding.  How sad is that?  The only thing that I knew was that bleach really fucked up clothes, Zout was wonderful, and that if I decided to wash anything, I had to do it when my mother was at work or she would go ballistic because I had messed up her laundry plans.  In my memories, my dad did most of the housekeeping.  Mom swept and mopped occasionally, but that was it.  Even when I was young, before she started working outside of the home, all I remember her doing was cooking because my grandmother hadn’t given her a microwave yet, and doing yoga while she watched “General Hospital.”

Now, for all my unpreparedness to keep house and my unwillingness to do so, you present me with an open field,  I’ll plow, harrow, plant, hoe, and harvest it tenaciously with no problem.  So, unlike what some people like to accuse, laziness is not the root cause.  Discipline, perhaps, but not laziness.  Previous partners and doms didn’t seem to care.  I would receive the occasional comment or something, but it was never really an issue.  Now, however, it’s an issue.  As my partner/life boss says, “You’re a pig in a poke.  I thought you were good at housekeeping.”  Evidently the life boss was unwittingly led on by other people in my life into believing this.  Oops.  So now there’s a problem.  In an effort to please my life boss and to make things easier for living, I’ve been trying to change.  It’s hard to change how you’ve been all your life, especially when the folks who want you to change don’t give consistent support and appear oblivious to your efforts.

Being at a loss as to how exactly to go about things, I turned to magic to start manipulating my mind and actions into transformation.  After consulting with Perchta and a Heathen acquaintance, I came up with a Perchta Power Rune that combines a rune that stands for Perchta and a rune that stands for matters dealing with the hearth and domesticity.  Immediately, I started painting it on my hair clips.  I knew that I wanted to get it as a tattoo at some point, but I couldn’t decide where.  In my life, it’s been proven prudent to have tattoos in places that are easily covered.  After some debate, I finally settled on getting it eventually on my hip, right where my thumb would touch it through my clothing every time I put my hand on my hip.  The touch would serve to constantly rekindle the magic, like a reset button or something.  In the mean time, I started to embroider the rune on the side of my panties, so the same purpose was served.

I also fully embraced aprons.  I’ve always liked aprons and liked wearing them, but now that I was firmly on this path, wearing an apron felt like a uniform.  When it is time to work in the house, I put on an apron.  Before I would just wear an apron because I have the bad habit of wiping my hands on my clothes.  I probably should bless my aprons or dedicate them to my magical purpose, but I never have.

Some where along the way I started veiling more seriously, especially at home.  I liked the way it made me feel, the submission that it stood for to me personally, the fact that it kept me focused on the task at hand–kind of like a thinking cap.  I’ve always been attracted to veils, which I’ve talked about in other posts, but I had never veiled seriously until I was on this path.  I’ve experimented with lots of different styles, but what I wear most often is a variation on the tichel that is either paired with a snood or is wrapped in a way that exposes my luscious coif. (6/3/14)

Some of you may have wondered why I kinda dropped off the Internet this spring, or every spring for that matter.  I have always been really susceptible to spring fever.  It consumes me with an overwhelming urge to stay outside as long as possible and to plant every inch of available earth.  When I run out of earth, I turn to containers, and then other people’s yards.  Then I just want to roll around in the earth and fuck continuously.  This year, at about the same time, I started trying to more consciously restructure my life and imbue it with Perchta Power.  As I said before, it’s hard.  It’s very far from automatic.  It’s more along the lines of ‘two steps forward and three steps back’ for a long time.  It’s frustrating beyond belief.  But, ultimately, it has to be done, especially if I want to make my life boss happy. (6/6/14)



I always wanted to be June Cleaver and to vacuum my house in pearls–that is when I have a working vacuum cleaner.  Electrical objects tend to break quite frequently around me for often mysterious reasons, which means that my cleaning is often met with frustration because I have to work harder.  I love wearing pearls, so why wouldn’t they help me to clean my home?  Mistress Marmot took a strand of pearls that I won at a Pagan Pride Day auction several years ago and restrung them for me on a steel wire.  Now they’re extremely long.  Sometimes I wear them around my neck and some times I wear them twisted around my hair in my tichels, but usually I wear them around my waist, like a magical girdle.  They’re my Perchta Power Pearls!  I wore them like this for over a week before it occurred to me that maybe the pearls were protecting my belly from being slit open by Perchta. Perhaps my mantra should be as I touch my pearls, “I am June Cleaver!”  I do say things to help with the Perchta magic.  When I braid my hair, I braid in “Industry, tidiness, and thrift.”  I’m good with the first and the last, but the middle always gives me problems.  I wonder if June Cleaver is going to slit my belly open.  Her last name is “Cleaver”. Maybe June is the nice side of Perchta, the opposite of her December side.  Maybe one day I’ll be just like St. June. (6/14/14)

Positive reinforcement from her Head of Household

(10-4-15) So, I listened the other day to this podcast, which I’ll put in the “Bibliography” section, that talked about traits of happy people and how they become productive.  It discussed at length how it’s not productive for everybody to get up early and do stuff.  That made me feel better.  But then the guest on the show said something that really struck a cord with me.  She said that people, all types of people, do better when they document what they’re doing.  She said that people who are trying to improve their health do better when they keep a health journal, noting what they eat each day and what exercises they do.  I think this would be a good thing for people to keep in their PPP book of shadows.  I remember last year when I had my domme that I did much better on this path when I had to send her texts about my chore completion.  She demanded before and after pictures.  But since she has abandoned me, I’ve slipped into undisciplined horribleness again.  So, today, I’m going to start keeping a task journal in my book of shadows.  Now when my dom storms in from work in the mornings and complains, “My God!  What have you done?  You’ve not done anything!  What do you do all day and night?”, I can pull out my log and show him.

I’m finally going to get to create my PPP book of shadows today.  I’ve know how I’ve wanted to do it for a long time, but I never had the money to get my supplies.  I did this summer buy a pack of very pretty folders at Ollies for under $2, but I didn’t have a notebook for them.  I thought I had one this summer that I found in my home, but it was a Trapper Keeper type thing and the zipper was busted.  It was beyond my ability to fix it, so I had to abandon it.  But finally things worked out.  Last week Dollar General put their school supplies on sale and my dom had just gotten paid, so he bought me a simple binder for really cheap.

Yay!  I still have to save up money to go and have a few things printed off to put in my folder, but at least it’s a start–finally.  All the starts and stops are completely frustrating.

[The Gods and Goddesses have a wonderful sense of humor.  While I was working on this section "The Two Magicians" performed by Damh the Bard ( came on Ravens Grove Radio (  Talk about a sign!  "The Two Magicians" is a highly charged song about Pagan D/S.]


Dear Dom/HoH,

Thanks so much for killing my buzz this morning and not communicating with me.  Even in non-DD/D/s relationships, communication is key.  Thank you for not ravishing me the way that I begged you to do, nor availing yourself of me for a second time this morning.  Thank you for going off literally half-cocked this morning into your endeavor and not being prepared.  I could have helped you if you had communicated with me.

Thanks for not at all trying to understand what I do for a living or making much of an attempt to help me balance my work life with my home life.  Perhaps that’s part of why I’m such a fucking mess.  My fulcrum is gone.  Thank you for not giving a damn that I may be in the middle of something for work when you bark at me to do your bidding and for not giving much of a damn about my plans, wants, or desires.  I strive to support you in everything, and I must say I’m disappointed in the dearth of reciprocity.  #sparrowslifematters

I’m sorry that I lost that livestock and that I don’t know how long it’s been missing and that I’m so inept at things that I didn’t even realize that it was gone.  I’m sorry that I’ve misplaced my phone that you complained that I spent too much time on, despite me listening to podcasts in an effort to be more of the submissive that you desire.  I’m not perfect, nor will I ever be.  I just hope that one day I’ll be perfect enough for you to take notice of my efforts.



P.S. Although you don’t realize it, and I assume it was not intentional, you have isolated me from everything in ways few subs can even imagine or experience without falling completely into insanity.  You’re welcome.


So today is the end of the Samhain season, and while I’ve learned and gained many things during Samhain 2015, I have to say that in terms of the PPP and PDD, I have seriously fallen off of the wagon.  I’ve had some big screw-ups that haven’t really been properly dealt with yet in terms of physical discipline and atonement.  My HoH have discussed them, but we’ve not matched up on dealing with them with more than words.  It’s been largely my fault.  When we’ve had free moments away from the roommates, I’ve been sleeping because of the time change, and when I’ve been prepared, he’s not been in the mood to deal with discipline matters.  I don’t like having unresolved things.  Hopefully this evening we can clear the slate and then have some fun (not that we haven’t been having fun–we always find time for that).  It’ll be a challenge to cram enough of a pillow into my mouth so the roommates don’t hear my cries when my reckoning occurs.

I haven’t really been attempting to do many chores.  I’ve been focusing more on my writing, but I’ve been pulled in a million directions with that.  Maybe tonight we can figure out a schedule.  I haven’t been taking my meds consistently, which means I’m off kilter and short-tempered and short of patience, particularly with my roommates.  I’ve been drinking and smoking more than I probably should.  I haven’t been keeping up at all with my PPP log.  My phone has disappeared now for over a week.  I blame the fairies for stealing it.  It has my vision board on it and Cozi alarms to keep me on track.  And then, a big one for a Southern girl, I performed a wedding yesterday in formal dress with no pantyhose.  I couldn’t find any that were the right color for the season without runs.  But of course I found a brand new package today.  So, I guess I’ll just start everything over for the new year.  I have a 40 bags in 40 days challenge set out for myself, but so far I’ve only done one bag.  My HoH, however, has done like 10.  I guess it doesn’t really matter who does it as long as it gets done.  My HoH has really been on a cleaning spree the last couple of weeks, but there’s still lots to do.  I can’t help but feel anxious and stressed when he cleans.  I’m thankful that he does clean, but I feel guilty that I’m not doing it, and I have trouble with the lack of control it gives me when he cleans.  I can’t manage my stuff, but I have trouble handing that control over to a more responsible party.  I struggle with that part of submission.

Baba Yaga eating me.

I’ve been getting back into rocks and gems lately.  I’ve always been into them, as long time readers probably have noticed, but this Samhain season I’ve allowed myself to wallow in them, sometimes literally, and I’ve been making a conscious effort to use them more magically within my life.  I’ve been rereading Crystals for Beginners by  Corrrine Kenner and Healing Crystals and Gemstones by Dr. Flora Peschek-Bohmer and Gisela Schreiber.  For Samhain I made myself a Dark Goddess bracelet out of gemstone chips, a few left over pearls from my Perchta Power Pearl necklace, and a scarab bead that I’ve had for a long time.  It’s on my wrist beside my watch that I finally started wearing again after seven years without one.  It helps keep me on track since I don’t always have a phone.  I have a pretty, delicate lady’s watch now, which has me excited about wearing a watch again.  For years I would wear a small, rugged man’s watch with a velcro band.  Functional, but not very attractive.  It made me feel like a butch instead of the lipstick I like to be.

Thrift has not been my strong suit this Samhain season.  I’m not sure why.  I’m usually pretty good.  Right before Samhain, I ordered a blue goldstone cabochon pendant and an selenite wand for masturbation and sex play.  I got the blue goldstone pendent to help open up my throat chakra.  I have it clipped onto my collar.  I like it, and it seems to be working, but then today when I thought about it and thought about updating this section, it popped into my head as “sodalite” instead of blue goldstone.  Here’s more about sodalite:  So, that got me looking on the internet, not doing at all what I should be doing, for sodalite pendants.  And I found some.  I didn’t order them.  Instead I got the idea to make my HoH and I matching gemstone bracelets for Yule, so I ordered some beads.  I ordered sodalite, malachite, red agate, carnelian, labrodite, and unakite.  In between these beads I’m going to put garnet and hematite chips.  For the focus of his bracelet, I’m going to use a large antique bloodstone bead that came off of a strand that my great aunt and uncle brought back 40 years ago from their time in the Foreign Service in the Middle East.  For the for the focus of my bracelet, I’m going to use a carved bone flower bead that came off of a necklace my friend Mattie gave me in Middle School.  She claimed it was ivory, and I’m pretty sure she stole it, but I always liked the necklace.  As I string the beads, I’ll put in my intent for health, security, communication–both verbal and non-verbal, learning and growth, vigor, virility, and vitality, and most importantly fidelity, commitment, and leadership and submission (respective to the bracelet wearer).  Yes, that’s so magically topping from the bottom, but I don’t care.  If it works, does it matter?


Links to companion pages to this program:

The Perchta Power Project:

Methods and Tools:


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