Is that a crystal in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?

I’ve been consuming a fair amount of tea lately, and while I was consuming this herbal tea I read the book Crystals for Beginners by Corrine Kenner.  I LOVE gemstones and I love hunting for gemstones, but despite my past attempts, I never really got the whole “love your crystal like its a pet” kind of mentality that a lot of Pagans have.  Yeah, I have some gemstones on my altar, but I’m not even really sure why they’re there.  Occasionally in the past I’ve used gemstones in magical or energy work, but there was never any kind of communication with these gemstones.  Well, that has changed.  Corrine Kenner’s book is not a magical field guide to gemstones and minerals as so many crystal books are; this book is a great user’s manual for crystals of all kinds.  All the activities that had been proposed in past crystal books that made no sense or seemed stupid all now make sense.  And I discovered something else, crystals can be extremely sexy.

Forget the magical correspondences of gemstones that can be incorporated into sexual play for a moment.  Just the energy that crystals transmit alone is reason enough to integrate them into sexual practices.  They can give things a jolt, particularly if you do electro-play.  Crystals can be charged up with a person’s desires and intent.  When these charged crystals are inserted into the body, then that energy will transfer to that person.

If you have not explored using crystals and gemstones in sex, now is the time.  There are several manufacturers of carved gemstone penises and dildos, but some of them are quite cost prohibitive.  Instead, you can use a large crystal.  Crystals are ideal for insertion play since there are such a wide variety of shapes and structural types.  Crystals can be heated in the sun or chilled in the freezer for heightened sensation.

Not only can crystals be inserted into orifices, they can be laid in cracks and crevices, and clumps of crystals can be used as tactile stimulants.  You can slip one into your panties for all day gentle stimulation.  I think I’m going to sew little holster on the inside crotch of all my panties so I can slip my little crystal in there for rubbing on the go!

Pele, a mother of igneous gemstones.

Gemstone beads can be made into anal beads.  I looked on the Internet for some already on the market gemstone anal beads, and I didn’t really see any worth purchasing or promoting, so I’m going to make my own.  I’ll keep you posted!

Another way to get a crystal’s energy into you is via a gem elixir enema.  Gem elixirs are made by leaving a crystal in a cup of water out side over night in the moonlight or in the sunshine for a few hours.  Heating the gem elixir in the sun would be a nice way to heat the water for a warm water enema.

One word of caution: crystals can have sharp points and edges that may damage skin and tissues.  If you think this may be the case with your crystal, slip it into a condom before use.

 

Crystals’ powers and magics can be transferred to a person in sadomasochistic ways other than insertion.  They can be transferred via flagellation.  A gem flogger can be made by gathering together 2 to 3 foot bunch of lengths of heavy twine, plastic lacing or thin leather cords.  The traditional number of cords is nine, but it can have as many or as few tails as you want.  If you wanted to be fancy, you could use number magic in determining the number of tails.

Gather up one end of the tails into a clump and rubber band them together.  You can wrap this in duck tape for a crude handle, or you can research online how to make a finished handle.  On the other end of your flogger, slip one or several gemstone beads onto the end of each tail.  Then knot the end to keep the bead on.  A prayer or wish can be said when you tie each knot for a little  knot magic.  Be careful when you play with this flogger.  It’s very easy to cause damage with thin tailed floggers and with floggers with things on the ends of the tails.  So, use a very light hand, especially at first.  If you doubt your abilities to wield your new flogger in a safe way, then practice on a pillow.  

I highly recommend Crystals for Beginners.  It’s a great companion to Scott Cunningham’s book on crystals.  It is more of a New Age book instead of a Pagan book, which makes it very accessible to people of all different religions.  There are foot notes and a bibliography, which makes me extremely happy.  Plus, it’s easy to read and navigate.  Here’s the Amazon link:  http://tinyurl.com/oh6r7pk  Thanks Miss Meow Meow for passing the book along to me!  I’ve enjoyed it during my tea time.

Paying the Bills and helping folks out:

Phantom September:  http://phantomseptember.tumblr.com/  (contact him for an art commission)

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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.

 

 

Let’s See

 

 

 

Shrine Time: http://nshrine.com/shrine/Saint_Lucy_of_Syracuse

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

These folks are ready for you to see:

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

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

Passion And Soulhttp://passionandsoul.com/

Tonia Brown:  www.thebackseatwriter.com

No Hide Floggers: http://jinglepets-nohide.blogspot.com/

Hyperdreams Interactive Sex Stories:  http://www.hyperdreams.com/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

An Ancient Dance

Happy Yule!  Yule is a special time of romance, drinking, sacrifice, and violence.  This year to celebrate, we want to give to you a special, sexy Yule meditation–a seasonal romance.

You can read it as is by yourself, you and a partner can whisper it to each other as pillow talk before mid-winter love making, or you can step it up a notch and add a textual element with the use of evergreens.  Holly leaves can be used like a Wartenberg wheel; pine, fir, rosemary and other evergreen boughs can be used as a fragrant love nest; smaller boughs can be used as invigorating switches (the scent of many evergreens are used in aromatherapy for invigorating sluggish souls) or sensual ticklers; ivy vines can be used make sure your lover doesn’t run off in the middle of your winter revels.  As with anything sex and BDSM related: make sure everything is consensual, everyone is legal, safety is top priority, and outdoor sex occurs on private land that you have permission to use.

It was approaching Mid-Winter.  A time of great frivolity and expectation.  A time when the ancient winter crone tries to sneak up on the waiting spring maiden.  A time of bittersweet sacrifice.

A cold crispness filled the air, like biting into an apple from the icebox.  She waited outside, growing impatient as she grew cold, waiting for entrance to the large castle.  To wait outside like a common visitor, she thought to herself, and in the snow no less!  Her retinue of ladies, whom she fondly called her ‘tendrils’, waited behind her.  More patient than their mistress, they smiled sweetly thinking of the vigorous festivities that waited inside.  Finally, she completely lost her poise and patience and started pounding her delicate fist on the sturdy oaken door.

“I am the Ivy Queen!  You can’t keep me in the yard like a stranger!  There’s snow on the ground and it’s freezing!  I’m freezing!  Open up!  Open upppp!”  She screamed in all her fury, her nearly exposed bosom heaving in her tight, rabbit fur trimmed bodice.  She pounded until her hand was bruised.  ”Let me in!!!!!!!!  I demand an audience with the king!”  She could hear a deep, mirthful laughter resonate from the heart of the castle, as if the castle itself was laughing at her predicament.  

“And who have you come to see, lady?”  The laughing voice asked from an upper window.

“I’ve come to see the Holly King!  I’m expected!  You know that!  Stop asking and let me in!”  The Ivy Queen screamed.  Her hand would have ached if it wasn’t numb.  Her teeth were starting to chatter.  She pulled her green velvet mantle around tight, trying to still her shivering.  She knew that most of the shivers were from the cold, but a certain amount of it was anticipation and nervousness.  Would there come a day when he wouldn’t admit her at all?  When her body finally was no longer attractive to him?  When he just didn’t return?  That was always a possibility, she felt.  Then she would be left forever with his twin, the stern Oak King, who was not nearly as much fun.

The deep laugh boomed again.  ”No!  Not yet!  Not ’til you learn some respect!”  The Holly King shut the casement, but stayed close to the window to see the resulting fury.  The Ivy Queen screeched in rage, yelling obscenities and threats.  Toying with her turned him on in ways that her vine like fingers crawling over his body in foreplay never could.  He loved seeing her creamy skin flush in anger, contrasting against her green clothing that she was so fond of.  Today she was in a heavy green velvet, covered in embroidered ivy vines.  Although she never aged or changed, he never grew tired of seeing her, being with her, holding her tight.  She embodied everything that mankind hoped for in a woman.  She was the ‘Every Woman’.  She was Queen.

The Holly King looked down again.  She was literally fallen now, utterly broken.  She was a green heap against the snow.  He opened the casement and could hear her soft crying.  Her Tendrils looked embarrassed for their mistress as they waited behind her, all in light green with their hands in white fur muffs.  He could feel the crotch of his trousers tighten.  He had had each of the ladies during his season, but now it was time to be with his queen again, the last hours of passion and love before she became his brother’s queen.
  

The great door opened on its own, and the Ivy Queen looked up, not sure that it had finally done so.  Every year it was the same for the first and last meeting.  She always said that the Holly King was the nicer of the two twins, but he did have his mean streak.  He enjoyed reducing her to tears before he built her back up to being queen.  But his method of building was lots of fun.  She got up stiffly and shook off the snow.  The Holly King smiled watching her trembling shivering movements that shook the bounteous blessings of her breasts.

Once inside, the Ivy Queen moved quickly through the castle to her love.  Although this was an endless drama that continuously played out, she always felt a great sense of urgency, as if that if she didn’t take advantage of every moment with the Holly King, she would regret it forever.  She arrived at his door, panting slightly for breath.  A sudden blush flooded her face as she thought about the things he would do to her.  She blushed a little more deeply thinking about what she would do to him, how she would slid her mouth down…

“Do you prefer the hallway to my rooms?”  The king teased.

She looked at him, and the warmth beneath her gown that had been building all day accelerated.  ”No, I’d much prefer your rooms.”  That was all it took.  The King grabbed her up and spun her around, kissing her deeply.  As they kissed, the Holly King felt as though his heart was being encased in vines, binding him to her forever.  ”Oh, I’m so hot.”  the Ivy Queen said, as they pulled apart.

“Well, let’s get you out of some of those clothes.”  The king replied with a broad grin.  Broad was the key word with the Holly King.  Broad smile, broad shoulders, broad appetites.  Built like a tank, he was a brawler, where as his wiry, lithe brother enjoyed quick jabs.  He removed her fur muff that matched the Tendrils’ and her heavy dark green cloak.  The king reached into her low cut bodice and pulled out a handful of breast.  ”Your girls don’t have girls like these,” he whispered as started to softly squeeze and suckle her ivory globe.  She bent her head forward in a protective gesture, their crowns meeting and caressing each other as her vine fingers twined in his hair.  The king liberated the other breast but turned his head to the side so that his holly crown pricked the skin.

“So we’re going to play that game, are we?”  The Ivy Queen coyly inquired, fully knowing the answer.  They always played ‘Tickles and Prickles.’  It was one of her favorite boudoir activities.  The Holly King loved to play long games of seduction, full of rich food and sweet, intoxicating beverages.  The Oak King was all business.  All procreation, hard work, plain food, and plain water.

“Of course we are, my love.  And if you try to scoot away, I’ll tie you with ivy vines.”  He laughed as he pushed her large tits together and blew into them like a motorboat.  The Ivy Queen giggled.  That was a tickle.  The King untied her tight bodice that her breasts were now hanging out of, and slipped it off, along with her gown.  Her clothing was starting to litter the floor.

“Wine?”  The king asked, fully drinking in the sight of his darling standing before him in nothing but a thin green silk shift.  The Ivy Queen had slipped her breasts back beneath the silk so that her nipples now pressed tauntingly against the fabric.  She nodded as he handed her his goblet.  That’s how it was with him.  They shared.  He shared with everyone, despite his large appetite.  Enough was never enough but there was always plenty.  His twin was miserly with everything.  The only thing that he shared halfway willingly was his bed, and even then he preferred that the Ivy Queen bring her own blanket.

Outside the darkness was starting to gather as the sun set.  It was always iffy if the sun would rise the next morning.  The Ivy Queen knew that somewhere the Ancient Mother Goddess was pacing and squatting somewhere in the throes of labor.  The couple moved to the window to watch the bonfires being lit.  The king stood close behind his queen so that she could feel his growing need against her back.  He wrapped his thick arms around her and held her tight as she sipped.  He blew lightly on her neck exposed by her ivy snood.  She shivered.  Then he took a holly leaf and very lightly rolled it across her neck. She shimmied against his hard-on, making him very happy.

“More wine?”  The King asked, drinking the last from the goblet and refilling it.  While his back was turned, The Ivy Queen slipped off the last of her clothing so that she now stood there in all her glory.  She stood there full figured with nothing on but her crown of ivy with leaves and tendrils hanging down over her vine snood.  She bit her lip in anticipation of his reaction.  When he saw her, he grinned with a wolfish delight.

“I’m going to eat every creamy ounce of you!” he declared and made a playful lunge at her. She squealed and danced out of his reach.  Here and there she dodged him, her curves bouncing to the King’s delight.  During the Oak King’s reign, she always slimmed down on his meager rations, but her figure always blossomed under the Holly King’s largess. Finally, she found herself cornered on the bed.  ”Do you concede, lady?” he asked, his cheeks ruddy from the chase.

“Mmmmmm, uh, no!” she squealed and started pelting him with pillows.

“Then I’ll have to tickle and prickle you into submission!” he roared as he pounced on her, holding her down with his brawny arms.  He lowered his head once again to her naked breasts and lolled his head back and forth, letting the leaves of his crown prick her flawless skin.  The sensation was almost electric for the Queen, and it unlocked the passion between her legs.  She could feel herself growing moist in anticipation.  He moved slowly down her torso, rolling the leaves over her rib cage and soft stomach.  Her sighs turned to moans as he prickled her thighs, which could be very properly called ‘gams’, and gently across her mons.  He let the leaves comb through the silken locks, tickling and prickling at the same time.  He pushed his crown back on his head and started softly tickling her delicate skin with his beard, urging her to open up to let him in.

“I don’t think I should be the only one naked,” the queen said in response to the king’s ministrations.

“Hmmm, then you should undress me.”  The queen took a deep quaff of wine, and proceeded to undress her king.  She unlaced the front of his shirt and slipped it over his broad shoulders and head, being careful to leave his crown in place.  Then she turned her attention to his boots, which were a little more difficult to remove.  Finally, she was at his pants, more precisely between his pants covered thighs.  Through the fabric she started kissing and nuzzling her king, driving him into a slight frenzy.  With her teeth, the Ivy Queen pulled loose the button on his fly, releasing his manhood.  She kissed its tip and looked up at her man.

“I want you on the bed.”

“And who are you to tell me what to do, Queen?  Didn’t we settle this dominance issue outside in the snow when you first arrived?”  The King tried to sound stern like his brother, but it was hard for him to suppress his mirth.

“Do as I say or I’ll tie YOU up with ivy!”  the Queen retorted, smiling.  Her hand was still sore and a little swollen from pounding on the door earlier.

The Holly King acquiesced and leaned back.  His consort straddled him backwards, settling her ample hips and buttocks onto his broad chest.  He couldn’t resist giving her creamy cheeks a pinch.

“Hey!  Not fair!”  The Ivy Queen protested.  Her king just laughed.

She placed her ivy crown over his growing erection in an imitation of a decorated maypole waiting for dancers.  She loosened her locks and tendrils from her vine snood and flipped her hair over onto the king’s body.  He had the prickles, but she had the tickles.  More slowly than a snail, the Ivy Queen pulled her hair along his skin, gently scooting her ass back towards his face with every wiggle.  The sensation of her hair was both soothing and sexually exciting for the king.  Soon her vagina was right where she wanted it, with in licking distance of the king’s tongue.  She was going to hold him to the promise of devouring every luscious ounce of her.  She lifted her hips and lowered herself on to his parted lips.  His tongue started lapping as she stretched her body to reach the wide expanse between the king’s mouth and cock.  She flicked her tongue up and down his penis in quick, teasing moves, bringing him to full erection before sliding him into her ruby lipped mouth.

They worked as a matched pair, always in perfect timed rhythm.  They both went slowly at first, the Holly King entertaining the queen with long deep strokes of his tongue into her wanting wetness.  She moaned continuously over him as she slowly moved her mouth up and down his cock, like a child savoring a lollipop.  The more she moaned, the bigger the king grew and the deeper he dove to savor her earthy goodness that was tinged with a slight bitter aftertaste.  The Holly King never faulted the love the that he shared with his brother for her bitterness; for after all, her life was nothing but a bittersweet romance set on a continuous loop.

He felt his companion’s thighs tighten and tense around his ears, and he knew she was close.  He pinched one of her cherubic thighs to get her attention.  She knew what that meant.  It was no longer fun and games, but time to enjoy each other one last time.  With a loud pop she let his penis slip from the suction of her lips.  She inched forward on hands and knees over his chest, swinging her luscious hips as she went.  Those hips would be lean and almost gaunt by the time this king returned–if he returned.  She pushed that fear away as she turned to face him, their eyes locked together as she slid her gushing wetness onto him for their ancient dance.

While their oral ministrations had become rather vigorous, the couple chose a slow minuet to start off their coital finale.  The Ivy Queen once again flipped her hair forward, letting it swish across the king’s broad chest.  She could feel what she thought was the tickle of her ivy crown on her mossy mons Venus, but when she pressed down harder to bring her lover more fully into her depths, she gasped.

“That’s very cruel!”  she hissed as she stilled moved her body in their tango.  ”That’s not fair!  How did you switch your crown for mine?”

“The nature of sacrifice is cruel and unfair, my love.  But you anointing my crown makes it all worthwhile and meaningful.”

Their tango became a painful flash dance as both moved more quickly toward their last orgasm.  They screamed in wild abandon, clawing and clinging to each other as the realization that things may not go as they always have gone loomed between them.  With a growl, the Holly King came so hard that the Ivy Queen felt a violent jolt in her loins.  As she slowly lifted herself off of him, blood dotted her skin from the crown, like red holly berries.  The King leaned up and licked some of the blood berries from her skin.  ”A holly doesn’t bloom and bear fruit if it’s not pollinated.” He whispered.

For the rest of the evening the couple snuggled in furs, dining on paper thin slices of raw stag and roasted whole wrens on skewers.  They both drank deeply from the wine goblet, joking and laughing about devouring the Horned God, debating whether he tasted better raw or roasted.  Inevitable though, the knock was heard on the Holly King’s door, announcing that the midnight hour was drawing near.  Abruptly the revelry ceased, and the lovers prepared for their fates.

*************************************************************************************************

“All hail the Oak King!  Our victor!”  The marshal announced to the stunned onlookers.  Even though all in attendance knew the expected outcome, when the Holly King’s blood is spilled upon the snow they are always shocked into silence.  For a moment, there was nothing, but then a wild roar of applause and cheers erupted, shattering the winter evening like an icicle.

The Ivy Queen looked torn between her two kings:  the one covered in blood on the frozen ground, already turning to a mystical ash that was being blown away by the North wind, the other standing triumphant with his sword aloft, covered in his twin’s gore.  The triumphant king came to her then, and took her hand.

“It appears that you’ve been living high on the hog, my lady.”

She barely nodded.

“Well, that’ll change soon.  We’ll get you back on a schedule.  By the way, who killed Cock Robin?”

She smiled.  Things would be different and less jolly, but fine nonetheless.  ”The Sparrow did, my king.”  He bowed then, formally kissing her hand.  Different she thought, but the same.

These folks are waiting for the sunshine of your love:

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

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

Passion And Soulhttp://passionandsoul.com/

Tonia Brown:  www.thebackseatwriter.com

No Hide Floggers: http://jinglepets-nohide.blogspot.com/

Hyperdreams Interactive Sex Stories:  http://www.hyperdreams.com/

 

Cover your bellies–it’s Mother Night!

While there are many different theories about when Perchta is due to come this year, we here at the Barbed Pentacle like to believe that she’s going to visit tonight.  Make sure your house work’s done!

The Barbed Pentacle’s very own Perchta image, drawn by Aramis September.

Light a candle for Perchta:  http://nshrine.com/shrine/Perchta

Our Lady of the wooden spoon,
whose two faces see the old and new,
You who admonish us to do our work and keep it true,
Keep us focused and strong so we may never swoon.
Bless us with thrift, industry, and tidiness.
Bind up our laziness.
Slit our bellies and remove all silliness.
Replace it with the straw of discipline, fortitude, and management.
A well run home brings gold to the pockets.
One great worker is worth three lazy ones.
Push us to strive for greatness.
Beat it into our souls and being.

These folks don’t want straw in their stomachs:

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

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

Passion And Soulhttp://passionandsoul.com/

Tonia Brown:  www.thebackseatwriter.com

No Hide Floggers: http://jinglepets-nohide.blogspot.com/

Hyperdreams Interactive Sex Stories:  http://www.hyperdreams.com/

 

All Tied Up, Part 4: The Ties That Bind

Handfasting.  Everybody wants to get handfasted, but few people seem to take it seriously.  While some folks go the extra distance to find some one who is legally ordained, most Pagans jump the gun on jumping the broom and decide to get handfasted “well because we love each other!!!”.  Then, when the relationship breaks up, they seem to forget all about the very religiously binding vows that they made before the Lord and Lady.  Seldom is there ever a handparting to tidy things up.

I could give you a history of handfasting, about how it use to mean one thing but then the Pagans made it mean something else. That would be very boring.  Go look it up for yourself!

Despite the vast array of cool cords on the market and all the wonderful things that can be done with those cords, most clergy (Pagan and non-Pagan) just tie boring old (and very often sloppy) Granny knots–if they tie any knot at all.  I’m really appalled by this!  A couple is tying the knot and making sacred vows!  The least that an officiant could do is up the anty on the cord magic and tie a meaningful and beautiful knot!

According to Nikki Nefarious, who is a world renowned Sharbari artist and ordained minister who performs handfastings through her service The Ties That Bind, “Traditional hand fastings have no real knots though, the whole thing is meant to come off before or just after the ceremony ends. Actually, I do mine after the ring exchange; it’s a series of wraps that goes with the vows/speech I say, then they stand there entwined and say their vows, at that point the ribbon/cloth/rope comes off and they kiss and the ceremony is over. If there were knots to untie it would awkward-up the whole process.”  Well, we wouldn’t want to untie the knots anyway and lose the magic that we’ve tied up!

With a little planning and forethought, a really meaningful and awesome knot can be tied for the couple.  Two Knotty Boys (http://www.knottyboys.com/), Ms. Nefarious’ colleagues in the knot business, have some great ideas.

Kinky_Lovers_Knot     Good_Luck_Knot

Both of these can be tied during the ritual and then wrapped around the couple’s hands and tied so the cord can be slipped off before the ceremony.

If you are looking for a handfasting book that has a wide variety of different types of handfasting ceremonies and lots of charts and ideas, get this book. It even has an example of the elusive handparting ceremony.

These folks are looking forward to the honeymoon:

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

Passion And Soulhttp://passionandsoul.com/

Tonia Brown:  www.thebackseatwriter.com

No Hide Floggers: http://jinglepets-nohide.blogspot.com/

A Symbolic Gesture: A Pagan Service Announcement

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A special thanks to Catherine W. and Tony B. for making this post so cool!

Many of you have seen the above clip.  There’s a good chance that the above clip may not be on YouTube forever.  It seems like Fox News is doing a pretty good job of having them removed at a pretty steady rate.  Only the guilty want to hide the evidence.  I’m also sure that many of you have seen the link for the Change.org petition: http://www.change.org/petitions/fox-news-make-a-public-apology-for-the-statements-made-about-the-pagan-wiccan-community

I could whine and pick apart the stupid fluff piece that Tammy and Tucker put together.  I could talk about how Tammy doesn’t realize that there’s a difference between eight and ten, that you don’t take Halloween off (you take the day after off!), and that atheists don’t celebrate anything in a religious manner.  I could rant about Tucker’s misguided concept that this is all about a war on Christianity, when really he should be focusing on the fact that a state supported school should honor the separation of church and state and that no one–regardless of being a member of a majority or minority religion–should be given a religious holiday (you get to take five days a semester anyway–fucking use them wisely!).  However, I’m not going to do that.  I’m not even going to encourage you to sign the apology petition.  Let’s face it, Fox News most likely isn’t going to issue a written apology, much less have anyone go on air and give face time to the matter.

My solution is simply to send Tucker and Tammy, care of Fox News, a symbolic gesture.  Tucker and Tammy can bitch and make fun of our holidays all they want, but all the cool traditions that they secretly look forward to with Christmas, Easter, New Years, and Thanksgiving come from Pagan roots.  Easter bunnies, chocolate, eggs, Christmas trees, presents, alcohol, fire crackers, Peeps, over-eating, bread–the list is endless.  They’re just too WASP to realize this.

So, send these insects a symbolic gesture.  Package up your favorite Pagan holiday symbol and mail it to them.  You can do it once, or you can do it for every turn of the wheel.  I’m going to be decorating plastic eggs with bow ties to send them for Ostara.  I’ll probably stuff them with condoms, just in case Tucker and Tammy don’t realize that Pagans were the ones to start advocating for safe and responsible sex.

Tammy Bruce and Tucker Carlson

c/o Fox News

1211 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10036

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And FYI Tucker and Tammy:  You need the Pagans to be able to figure out when your Savior was nailed to a cross.  Easter is the first Sunday after the first full moon on or after the Vernal Equinox–not the same day every year like most deaths.  Dab some lamb’s blood on your lintel and think about that one!

These folks know that the only good use for a bow tie is as an impromptu cock ring: 

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

Passion And Soulhttp://passionandsoul.com/

Knotjokin Rope Floggershttp://www.knotjokin.etsy.com

Tonia Brown:  www.thebackseatwriter.com

 

 

A Different Discipline

Congratulations, again, to Tonie Ervin for winning the “Just Smack Me” spoon decorating contest. Although she has a vast amount of artistic talent, Tonie was a shoo-in for the contest because she was the only person to enter a spoon.

I don’t know what happened to all of you folks who posted on Facebook and Twitter your interest in the project or all of you who emailed me privately for more information. Perhaps you broke your hand or popped out a baby earlier than expected or weren’t smacked up side your head by inspiration. What’s more likely is you were full of promises and plans but mismanaged your time because you’re undisciplined. Does that sound like what happened with your spoon plans? It’s ironic, because Holda/Pertcha would smack you with a wooden spoon for not following through with your plans.

Discipline is something that seems to be slipping away in many cultures, particularly in the United States. Folks think that once they turn 18 that they don’t have to answer to anyone, and while that’s true, that doesn’t mean that you can act like a child and be irresponsible.

There’s a concept in the BDSM community called domestic discipline. While like many concepts, it means different things to different people, most practitioners agree that at its core it’s a relationship where one party is answerable to the other for keeping the home and household running smoothly. If things go awry, then there are reasonable consequences. Couples from all walks of life and religious backgrounds practice domestic discipline, but it has a strong following among Christians because of the scriptures that seem to support the practice (http://www.christiandomesticdiscipline.com/home.html).

To see how my fellow Pagans felt about domestic discipline, I posed this query on a Fetlife group: “I’m curious how Pagans/Heathens/other nature path folks that also practice domestic discipline blend the two together.” I was met with mix reactions. I found that a majority of the kinky Pagans in the group were ignorant of what domestic discipline meant and completely misunderstood the question. Some of the folks who responded seemed angry that I would even pose such a question. Perhaps they had bad experiences from their Christian days or perhaps they were just dumb assholes. Who knows? However, I did receive a few bits of positive feed back and good ideas.

Why would someone choose to go this route in their relationship? Why do folks join the army? Some folks join the army to serve, but a lot of people join the army so that they don’t have to think about how to order their lives and for the comfort that comes from that. Many of the people who are in a domestic discipline relationship crave the structure that this type of relationship brings to their lives. While there is a certain amount of stress related to having to meet expectations and responsibilities, this type of relationship is often less stressful overall because you have help from your partner in meeting your goals–big and small. It’s the same concept as having an exercise partner. You’re more likely to meet your goals if you have a partner backing you up that you’re accountable to than if you just go it alone.

Unlike the Christian “DD” folks, Pagans don’t have holy texts backing up the practice of domestic discipline, but there are plenty of deities that could be described as domestic discipline deities–or as I like to call them “Triple D’s”. Essentially, any deity can be viewed this way, but it’s not uncommon to see domestic and martial deities in a more disciplinary fashion. Domestic deities, such as Holda and Hera, often have myths attached to them of what happens when their human followers lack discipline. If you think that you may be interested in pursuing a religiously based domestic discipline relationship, looking to your deities is a good first step. You can go about this two different ways. You can engage in a DD relationship with only your deity of choice, which is a good option if you’re single or if your partner is not interested in a DD relationship. A second option is to engage in a DD relationship with your partner and your deity. In this case, your deity acts as a kind of back bone for the agreement–and agreement is the key word here. For either choice, you will need to negotiate with the parties involved and come up with an agreement and possibly a contract. And of course, if you are engaging in a DD relationship with actual humans, all parties involved need to be at least 18 years old.

The second step for engaging in a DD relationship from a Pagan standpoint is to incorporate an act of magic in the process. A suggestion from MrSennerael, who participated in the Fetlife discussion, is “Pick a rune [and] walk with it through a moon phase. Some runes would be easier than others, but if your partner likes to be marked that can be fun [to] see how and what energies [and] deities play better in your home [and] with what stimulus.” I really like the idea about the symbols. To seal my own commitment to Holda– my Triple D, I created a sigil from Futhark runes that I can easily reproduce all over the place, like a school girl writing her name constantly. Every time I see the sigil, it reminds me of my commitment, and every time I reproduce it or touch the sigil, it recharges and strengthens the magic behind my commitment and contract.

Daphne (above and below) has taken the concept of a commitment to deity and domestic discipline to a higher level. She felt a call from Hera, a classic Triple D, and not only entered into a dedicated contract with her, but as part of her contract, she has completely transformed her appearance and behavior.

At a recent ritual that I attended, the facilitator charged the participants to ditch the idea of creating New Year’s resolutions that would be abandoned with in a few months due to a lack of discipline. Instead of resolutions, we were charged to make a commitment to our deities in the new year. I charge you to do the same and to bring some discipline into your renewed relationships.

These folks are always disciplined:

Mystic Artisans: https://www.facebook.com/mysticartisans

Passion And Soul: http://passionandsoul.com/

Knotjokin Rope Floggers: http://www.knotjokin.etsy.com

Tonia Brown www.thebackseatwriter.com

One Last Look

Shrine Time:  http://nshrine.com/shrine/Saint_Lucy_of_Syracuse

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

These folks liked the eye candy:

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

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

Passion And Soulhttp://passionandsoul.com/

Tonia Brown:  www.thebackseatwriter.com

No Hide Floggers: http://jinglepets-nohide.blogspot.com/

Hyperdreams Interactive Sex Stories:  http://www.hyperdreams.com/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Eating wrens and other small birds

While there’s much speculation about the origins and meanings behind “The Cutty Wren,” for our purposes, we’re going assume that like everything, it has a hidden Pagan origin that has been corrupted over the years.  The wren, in unverified European lore, corresponds to the Holly King that rules from Midsummer to Midwinter.  The cock robin corresponds to the Oak King (sometimes called the Ivy King) that rules from Midwinter to Midsummer.  Twice a year they battle to see who will rule for the next half of the year.

It’s been speculated that this tradition stems from the Celtic (and other groups’) sacrifice of a “Year King”, which fits perfectly with the theme of the
“Cutty Wren” and the season of Yule.

In more modern times, the wren is symbolically hunted on the day after Christmas (St. Stephen’s Day), a dummy wren is attached to a pole, and a dance follows.  During the triumphant post-hunt procession of the wren, a monetary collection is taken up by the hunters or “wren boys.”

The tradition of the cutty wren can easily be incorporated into modern Pagan practice during the Yule season.  The easiest way is to take a cue from the wren boys and make a monetary contribution to a cause.  Since the wren hunt is all about sacrifice, taking a monetary present that someone has given you and passing it along would be extremely fitting.  Another easy way to remember the wren is to eat a small game bird.  While modern Americans are no longer legally suppose to eat small song birds, it was not uncommon for our colonial forefathers to enjoy savory pies stuffed full of sparrows, wrens, robins, and other backyard visitors.  However, doves are still legal, and farm-raised pigeons (which are really doves) can be obtained at some of the fancier food markets.  If you want the “real” experience, consider killing and dressing the bird yourself.  Eating the wren or its representative is tasty way to internalize its magical significance.

Can’t find a dove?  Roosters are another bird representative of the Yule season since they symbolize the rising Sun.  Live roosters are available at many flea markets and small animal auctions.

If you want an even more primal experience, you can cut the rooster’s head off with a knife while you hold him tucked under your arm.  This method makes it easier to collect his blood for magical use.  For a healthier (and less messy) plucking alternative, consider pulling the skin off the carcass once your bird has been beheaded.  It’s a lot easier than plucking and scalding.  Rooster meat can be really tough and it needs to be cooked (or pre-cooked) in either a crock pot or a pressure cooker.  Brining the meat before use also aids in tenderizing it.

The wren hunt, like all hunts, can be sexually charged.  Sometimes the best sacrifices are of ourselves in bed.  Who will be wren and who will be the robin?

http://www.tate.org.uk/context-comment/video/music-medium-ruth-ewan-cutty-wren

Who killed Cock Robin?
I, said the Sparrow,
with my bow and arrow,
I killed Cock Robin.
Who saw him die?
I, said the Fly,
with my little eye,
I saw him die.
Who caught his blood?
I, said the Fish,
with my little dish,
I caught his blood.
Who’ll make the shroud?
I, said the Beetle,
with my thread and needle,
I’ll make the shroud.
Who’ll dig his grave?
I, said the Owl,
with my pick and shovel,
I’ll dig his grave.
Who’ll be the parson?
I, said the Rook,
with my little book,
I’ll be the parson.
Who’ll be the clerk?
I, said the Lark,
if it’s not in the dark,
I’ll be the clerk.
Who’ll carry the link?
I, said the Linnet,
I’ll fetch it in a minute,
I’ll carry the link.
Who’ll be chief mourner?
I, said the Dove,
I mourn for my love,
I’ll be chief mourner.
Who’ll carry the coffin?
I, said the Kite,
if it’s not through the night,
I’ll carry the coffin.
Who’ll bear the pall?
We, said the Wren,
both the cock and the hen,
We’ll bear the pall.
Who’ll sing a psalm?
I, said the Thrush,
as she sat on a bush,
I’ll sing a psalm.
Who’ll toll the bell?
I said the Bull,
because I can pull,
I’ll toll the bell.
All the birds of the air
fell a-sighing and a-sobbing,
when they heard the bell toll
for poor Cock Robin.

 

These folks wish you all the best during the Yule season:

Mystic Artisans: https://www.facebook.com/mysticartisans

Passion And Soul: http://passionandsoul.com/

Knotjokin Rope Floggers: http://www.knotjokin.etsy.com

Tonia Brown www.thebackseatwriter.com