Against Headache

Against Headache





“O, pain in my head,
The father of all evil,
Look upon thee now!
Thou hast greatly pained me,
Thou tormentest my head,
Remain not in me!
Go thou, go thou, go home,
Whence thou, Evil One didst suck,
Thither, thither hasten!
Who treads upon my shadow.
To him be the pain!
By Migene Gonzales-Wippler

Glory to The Newborn King

Yule Comments & Graphics

Glory to The Newborn King

(Tune: Hark the Herald Angels Sing)

Brothers, sisters, come and sing
Glory to the new-born king!
Gardens peaceful, forests wild
Celebrate the Winter Child!
Now the time of glowing starts!
Joyful hands and joyful hearts!
Cheer the Yule log as it burns!
For once again, the Sun returns!
Brothers, sisters, come and sing!
Glory to the new-born King!

Brothers, sisters, singing come
Glory to the new-born Sun
Through the wind and dark of night
Celebrate the coming light.
Suns glad rays through fear’s cold burns
Life through death the Wheels now turns
Gather round Yule log and tree
Celebrate Life’s mystery
Brothers, sisters, singing come
Glory to the new-born Sun.




Soft scented stillness that warns of the storm

Whisper of wisdom full living and warm

Breathe into us wonder at all we may know

Welcome, wise wind, from wherever you blow.



Bright spark of courage, blaze of desire

The passion for change is a wild, raging fire

Kindled by will, it burns in our veins

Welcome within us, our hearts are your flames



Power of water, power to feel

Rising within us, ancient and real

Soothed into softness or tossed to extremes

Welcome, wild waves from the depths of our dreams



Mother in waiting, child in the womb

Newly strung thread waits the night on the loom

Earth that we come from, Earth where we go

Welcome, as you welcomed us long ago.

Calendar of the Sun for June 20

Carista – Day of Peace in the Family

Color: Lavender
Element: Water
Altar: Upon a lavender cloth set a tray of cakes shaped like clasping hands, and many cups full of hot tea.
Offerings: Promise to attempt to be more considerate of those you live with.
Daily Meal: Any food, but it must be served from one great plate for every table, and it should not be in separate portions.

Carista Invocation

May there be Peace in this house.
(Response: “May there be peace in this house!”)
Peace can be a hard mistress.
The daily round of the ordinary,
The simple turn of day and night and day
The presence of the same souls
Can come to be like a shadow on the sun,
And yet Peace still demands
That we find a way to move past
That ordinariness
And all the thousand thorns and briars
And bring Peace into the house.
(Response: “May there be peace in this house!”)
Take the hand of your sister, your brother,
The one who shares your roof, your table,
The ground you walk on,
Whose feet know the boards as well as your own,
And swear to find a way
To bring peace into the space between you.
(Response: “May there be peace in this house!”)

My brother, my heart, my sister, my soul;
My family, my life, come in from the cold;
My sister, my heart, my brother, my soul;
My family, my life, that makes this life whole.

(Instead of a ritual, this period of time should be used to mediate and address problems between members of the community, with emphasis on peacemaking and compromise and useful solutions. At the end of the meeting, all share cakes and tea.)


[Pagan Book of Hours]

June 12 – Daily Feast

There is an undercurrent that feeds us false impressions like a gentle trap that tells us we are doing right – because it feels right. Feelings are so easily manipulated they can’t be trusted as a measure in anything. We stay with bad habits because it feels right. The habit comforts our feelings and the familiar touch makes us believe we can’t give it up. But it is the path that winds back through the same experiences – almost like being lost in a jungle. We think we are on the right road out, until we find our own footprints going around and around. Whether it is a habit or a person, or a situation we are trying to escape, we have to know our feelings are not to be trusted. They keep us knocking on a door that seems like home but is simply the same stopping-off, na hna I, familiar place. Beware of feelings that deceive.

It has been said that there is no deceit in touching the pen to sign a treaty, but I have always found it full of deceit. ~


‘A Cherokee Feast of Days’, by Joyce Sequichie Hifler

Washed in the Water

Washed in the Water

by Prudence Priest


Prudence Priest leads Freya’s Folk, a coven with a Norse focus that has been together for more than 20 years.

Although baptism is most often considered a Christian custom, the use of water as a purification is much more ancient. The Greeks, Romans, Aryans, Ugro-Finnics and the Teutons associated it with some form of initiation as well.

Ceremonial use of water can be both simple and complex. Children are born of the water of the mother; a parallel of washing away the old and beginning fresh becomes evident. Why do people wash their hands? This simple ritual cleans them from contact with dirt, and by extension, disease, death, even guilt. And as this process of purification is built on, the simple act of cleansing assumes ever more complex symbolism and meaning, and even becomes associated with the giving of a name as civilization becomes more sophisticated.

The four elements of classical times, among those who believe they have a life of their own or who are animistic, have often been venerated in their own right. Sacred wells or springs and lakes with reputed healing powers have outlasted all attempts to Christianize them if not to co-opt them.

Superstitious Romans believed that water could purge them of all sins. Many Indians today believe that immersion in the Ganges will wash away all the past sins of a lifetime. If water can wash away dirt and contamination on a physical level, then it follows that it is possible that water can purify one on an emotional, spiritual, moral and even psychic level as well. Such was the current of thought of the ancients. It is still prevalent among some pagan peoples today.

Teutonic peoples had a custom of baptism observed by Roman writers as early as 200 B(efore) the C(onfusion). Among the Scandinavians, it was called an “ausa vatni” (water sprinkling), and signified acceptance into the family. Until the ausa vatni had been performed, a child had no legal rights or standing within the community and was not even considered a human being. Even in Christian times, the wergeld for killing an unbaptized child was half that paid for the death of a baptized one.

On the ninth day after birth, the baby was brought to the father (or closest male relative) for the public performance of the ausa vatni, and at that time was also given a name. The Norwegians, Lapps and Finns performed the ceremony on a Thorsday. It was often accompanied with a feast given by all the blood relatives. The name chosen was usually that of a parent or an ancestor, usually a deceased grandparent on the mother’s side, conferred so that the qualities of that person could live again in the child. Giving the parent’s name granted one immortality in one’s own lifetime.

When a child was born, it was first laid upon the ground to reverence the earth as the source of all life. The Scandinavian term for midwife, “jordemoder,” means earth mother. The midwife then lifted the child up and presented it to the father, who had the power of life or death over it. This power was nullified, however, if the child had partaken of milk or honey, or if it had been washed. If any of these had happened, a child was considered to have rights equal to those of any member of its family. If the father were unavailable, the mother had the right to acknowledge or expose the infant. Another important custom was the planting of a tree on the day of birth. This tree became the child’s tree of life, and they mirrored each other’s growth. This custom has a lot more going for it than passing out cigars.

As water is elemental in nature, an ausa vatni is a Vanic rite (that is, a rite having to do with the Vanir). The new member of the community was thrice sprinkled with water by the father: once in the name of Thor, again in the name of Freyr and lastly in the name of Njord. By sprinkling the babe with water, it was believed, the beneficial forces of water could be brought to bear in their various powers for good and healing for the newborn. This attunement of the child with the element of water was also thought to protect it from the harmful effects of water.

Among the Finns and Lapps, baptismal names were bestowed by the “wash mother” (laugo-edme). Then, according to E.J. Jessen in Afhandling om de norske Finners og Lappers Hedenske Religion, the following ceremony was performed: “Warm water was poured into a trough, and two birch twigs one in its natural condition, the other bent into a ring were laid in it. At the same time, the child was thus addressed: ‘Thou shalt be as fertile, sound and strong as the birch from which this twig was taken.’ Then a copper (or silver) talisman was cast into the water, with the words: ‘I cast the namba-skiello (talisman) into the water, to wash thee; be as melodious and fair as this brass (or silver).’ Then came the formula: ‘I baptize thee with a new name, N.N. Thou shalt thrive better from this water, of which we make thee a partaker, than from the water wherewith the priest baptized thee. I call thee up by baptism, deceased N.N. Thou shalt now rise again to life and health and receive new limbs. Thou, child, shalt have the same happiness and joy which the deceased enjoyed in this world.’ As she uttered these words, the baptizer poured water three times on the head of the child, and then washed its whole body. Finally she said: ‘Now art thou baptized adde-namba (underworld name), with the name of the deceased, and I will see that with this name thou wilt enjoy good health.'”

Specific legal rights were conferred at an ausa vatni as well. Both the Eddas and Heimskringla have reference to the custom. In the Havamal (Dasent’s translation), the master magician states: “This I can make sure when I suffuse a man-child with water he shall not fall when he fights in the host; no sword shall bring him low.” In the Heimskringla, we are told that at the birth of Harald Gráfeld, “Eirikr and Gunnhild had a son whom Haraldr Haarfager suffused with water, and to whom he gave the name, ordaining that he should be king after his father Eirik.”

By naming and claiming a child as his own, according to the Teutonic peoples, a father granted the child protection, provision and the right of inheritance and succession to his estate. An ausa vatni is an important rite of passage in Asatru. As many people have never had one, it is a custom in Freya’s Folk when a new member joins and takes a new name. Why not try the cleansing, healing and purging power of water for yourself?

May the gods direct you to the best.



Throughout history symbols of political or religeous importance have been seen in the clouds. In A.D. 312 when Emperor Constantine was marching against the army of Maxentius at Rome, both he and his entire army saw a shining cross of light amid the clouds.
It was said the cross contained the Greek words “By This Conquer”. Later that night Christ appeared to Constantine in his dreams bearing a cross in his hand ordering Constantine to have a military starndard made in the same image.
Under this standard his outnumbered army was victorious. Down through history entire military battles have been witnessed in the clouds.
Some of the U.F.O. sightings have in fact turned out to be disk shaped cloud formations. Generally cloud scrying is done on days when cloud conditions are good.
Having too few or too many clouds is no good for scrying. The best is when the clouds are thick.
Find a nice location to lie down and just relax. Try not to focus on any one cloud but rather allow the clouds to drift across your view.
Visions cannot be forced, they will come naturally when the time is right.


Saint of the Day for August 4th is Pope Saint Gregory III

Pope Saint Gregory III

He was just standing there, not doing anything special. As a Syrian priest he must have felt a little out of place among the Roman people mourning that day for the dead Pope. As a good preacher, he must have wanted to speak to the funeral procession about Christ’s promise of resurrection. As a learned man, he must have wondered who would follow the holy Saint Gregory II as Pope and where he would take the Church. As a holy man, he must have been praying for Gregory II and for all the people around him to find their place after death in God’s arms. But he was just one of the crowd.

Not to God. And not to the people who recognized the well-known holy man in their midst. Right in the middle of the funeral procession they singled him out. They swept him away and clamored for him to be named the next bishop of Rome. Then suddenly, unexpectedly, without his even lifting a finger, his whole life changed and he could no longer just stand there and do nothing.

After he was proclaimed Pope Gregory III, Emperor Leo II attacked the veneration of holy images. Because Leo II thought the honor paid to Jesus, Mary, and the saints by keeping statues and icons was idolatry, he condemned them and wanted them destroyed. Gregory III didn’t just stand there but immediately sent a letter to Leo II. He couldn’t get the letter through because the priest-messenger was afraid to deliver it. So instead, Gregory called a synod that approved strong measures against anyone who would try to destroy images of Jesus, Mary, or the saints.

Gregory took his stand and Leo II apparently thought the only way to move him was through physical force. So Leo sent ships to kidnap Gregory and bring him to Constantinople. Many people in Rome must have tried to get Gregory to move — but he just stood there. And once again God intervened. A storm destroyed Leo’s ships. The only thing Leo could do was capture some of the papal lands.

So Leo got a few acres of land and we kept our wonderful reminders of the love of God, the protection of Jesus, the prayers of Mary, and the examples of the saints. All because Gregory knew when to take a stand — and when to stand there and let God work.

Gregory III was Pope from 731-741.

In His Footsteps: Where in your life do you need to take a stand? Take a stand: The next time you here someone say something that indicates religious, racial, gender, or any other kind of prejudice, take a stand and make it clear that such prejudice is not tolerated by God or God’s people.

Prayer: Saint Gregory III, it’s hard to stand still and wait for God to do his work. Sometimes I doubt God’s providence. I’m afraid that God’s plan won’t work out unless I push it along. Help me, when I’m confused, to stop, pray, and wait for God. Amen

Catholic Online

From Pagan to Christian to Angry Ex-Christian to Pagan

From Pagan to Christian to Angry Ex-Christian to Pagan

Author: Sister Services

As a child I sat in the presence of the spirits of my universe. I was instructed by the old citrus tree that held my tree house, by the brown/red dirt and the rain in which I was anointed during the monsoon of each year.

I was blessed with the wisdom of the prickly pear, the quince, the mulberry, peppermint, chaste berry, desert willow and each of the native herbs that sprung up in the spring. Into my ear the desert wind whispered secrets of wild spirits, and the fellowship of beings that dwell in the unseen realms.

In the embrace of this universe I was young and I was wise. I knew my place in this scheme and born in me was an understanding of keeping the balance of my internal and external landscapes. In the years of their lord and during the presidency of Reagan this balance was unsafe and invariably, was attacked.

To Me
God to me
A bug to me
The world to me
The ocean
To tears
To years
My fears
A tree to me
A cell to me
They tell to me
Paper for ink
A mind to think
Love and hate
The worlds
To Great
For me

In the budding of my youth I was introduced to the building, the names and the rules that would withhold the personal power of my birthright. It was in the church that I would come to learn that all of the aspects of myself that spoke of wisdom, timelessness, the greatness of self and reality were considered beyond evil, they were wrong and for having held these beliefs I, fundamentally, was also wrong.

Feeling betrayed by the universe I turned my back on it. I closed my third eye and blocked the voice of spirit and of the great Mother and the great Father. I was poor, Mexican, fatherless, dumb, a woman, a sinner and now worse than all of these, I was alone.

So frightened, confused and painfully alone.

Godless Alone
I cry out to the savior
My childhood has known
Speak to my tears
Then tell me to pray
Interior emptiness growing
Silent heavenly being
A fatherless child cries
Talk to my fears
Tell them your there
The crying that echoes within
Coldly dies- alone
I receive no reply
From the empty night sky
Why should I bother
With another absent father?
So I talk to my loneliness
And lean on regret
Childhood prayers you to soon forget
I cry into my hallow
It’s stable and is known
Gathering dust
On forgotten tears
My reflection is sad
Godless, alone
Through the years
Iv’ grown to see
What time and pain have shown
Relentless strength
Is company
My only and my own

Fear taught is fear lived. I was wounded and afraid and not wanting to be perceived as weak I covered my fear with anger. Having been given the gifts of observation and thinking I soon discovered that they who would condemn the most precious and colorfully beautiful parts of me were the actualization of the evil they preached. They each embodied the fears and failings of humanity, the very challenges they considered to be the signs of a demonic presence in a person’s life.

“Bethy, those feelings are only the devil trying to get at you! Don’t let the devil win- fight the devil Bethy! By the power of Jesus tell satin to be gone. By the blood of the lamb be gone from the thoughts of this child of god!” said my pastor, youth leader, church elders, grandmother, government, television and school.

I soon grew to mistrust my church, family, community and worst of all- myself.

Is God…?
Her religion is a figurehead for politics to handle
My religion is the source of laundering and scandal
Religions the excuse for war that none can equal
Religious symbols carved or stamped on graves of tortured people
Americas a melting pot, the world a Caesar salad
Religion is the hovering fork before we’re all devoured
An absent god is sought in vain through a constant upward stare
Anxious souls heaven bound arrive to waiting air
Pious zealots spend their lives in holy chant and prayer
Timeless bible verses read aloud in great despair
A life was laid upon the path that holy men have trod
Religion has me wondering if there ever was a god

And then came the break. I left the building, names and rules that had stripped me of my confidence and shaken my foundations. I drifted in a sea of confused and soul stripped people. Each of us had been born with our sacred temple at the center of ourselves and the followers of the Christ had burned and pillaged the temple and raped the sovereignty of mind. We were naked and exposed to the elements believing that the elements were outside of us, acting on us without our consent, participation or design.

This was the beginning of the search for solid ground. I soon learned that I could depend upon myself for comfort, protection and stability. I had found something to again have faith in- myself. The fire of disillusionment burned and I welcomed its cleansing flames, inviting them to devour all that remained of my fearful, weak and sinful self. Let the light of my sacred flame illuminate my eternal soul- amen.

Fade Away/Fly Away
There was a day I leapt into the sunlight and was blinded by the joy that I’d rejoiced in
I’d lived so long I couldn’t tell that I had walked among the edges of the jumps I should have made.
I cannot stay. I cannot see.
I cannot see the wings I feel have grown among the daises of my brain
I will not go, I will not flee.
I will not see, although the sun has dazzled me awake.
I feel the light
I want to go
I feel the heat
I want to shine
I feel the passion as it’s fizzled out in pain- its mine.
When is the time?
When will I teach my wings to stretch and reach the sky?
Why must I stay?
Hold up my hands and watch the sunlight turn to gray.
Fade away

It’s only now that I can feel the breeze that s blowing through my brain.
It’s only now that I can see I’m not the same.
Now is the time! Now is the day!
Now is when I stretch my wings into imagination,
Fly away.

At the close of a century that held my lessons in ignorance, anger and forgiveness, I was 18 when I saw Phyllis Curott on the Rosanne Bar talk show. It was 1998 in the Halloween episode she, Rosanne and two other priestesses held hands and sang:

We all come from the goddess,
And to her we shall return
Like a drop of rain,
Flowing to the ocean

Their voices were the moon calling up the oceans of my soul. I opened and wept the tears of a child who had heard her mother’s voice calling her home from the storm. I heard the voice of the mother in the voices of those women and I followed it home.

Renegade’s Ride
Renegade religion
And I upon a steed
Flight into the holy
Mother’s mystery
Sound and speed unending
Speed and sound combined
Flight beyond travails
And I who seek- shall find
Find the darksome mother
Nude by dark and light
Light and dark unending
Then eyes of second sight
Second sight unending
I see the other side
I see regenerating
This unending ride.

In 2008 I am 28 and have been trained as priestess, practiced in a coven and now practice as a solitary, occasionally seeking circles and holiday celebrations. In the studio apartment that serves as my temple I am instructed in solidarity by the wood floor, I am blessed by light and the wind that pour into my east facing windows, I am filled with the sounds of waves ebbing and flowing on the shores of my heart and I continue to burn in the light that shines the brilliance of the names which are above all names and the name of the god I am.
I have come home.

No Easy Answers
I wonder with a force
That questions time and space
And I’m wondering what lies
Just beyond this place
And I’m wondering of people
Of their souls and everlasting
And I’m feeling that the answers
Are all there for the asking
I am filling with the sound of a call from deep inside
And the meanings that eluded me
Now with me reside
And these questions and their answers
That froth about my mind
Know that questions are the answer
Know that truth,
Is undefined.

All original material written by E. B. Rodriguez