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Still Waters Run Deep

Recently I have felt O hanging around me. Unlike Set, Osiris is a lot more subtle in communicating with me. Set is a lot like a dust storm- you can’t avoid it. It’s a gigantic wall of sand and debris that you can’t run away from. Even your shelter might not save you from the brunt of the storm. He is completely in your face. Osiris reminds me of roots. He comes from different angles. You see little messages here and there. And he has no issue with having others send you his messages to get the point across. The more you ignore him, the more the roots will surround you, coming at all these different angles. Eventually, they will be inescapable because you’ll be completely choked by them.

Set is like an alarm clock meets a tv with 24/7 static. Osiris is like soft whispers that slowly make you go mad.

And lately, Osiris has wanted something. I figure it has to do with the work I started for him last year. Much like before, whenever I go to the place where he wants me to be, I see the river. I see myself under the water. Unlike before, I can see the sun shining through the water- but always I return to the water.

There have been people who are willing to do oracles for me, to help me sort out what could be going on. I decided to try it out- just to see what I got back. Today, I got back an oracle from Hekate. It reads:

“You are looking for something that lies on the bottom of a deep well but you shall never reach it if you try to spare yourself from getting wet in Ancestral Waters.”

At first, I was not sure what to make of it. I don’t really fear my ancestors. Truth is, they hold very little interest for me. And to figure out what I’m afraid of (afraid of getting wet with), I would need to decipher what the water represents. So far, I have come up with two potential meanings.

1. My soul-line ancestors. People I was before and the influence those people can have on me now.
2. My waking family. Not ancestors yet, but still from my physical family.

The first aspect is really a fear situation. There is a whole separate part of my life that I no longer live. I closed the door and I don’t want it to be open again. I don’t see any benefit from opening said door again. And as it stands, I will likely be tackling this aspect after I get a better grasp of the family situation.

So about my family.

My family makes me miserable in most cases. My bio-father was never around, and my step-father is no prize either. Most of my family members are problem causers and drama fanatics who love to wreak havoc. They are also the sort of people who say “OMG I love you so much!”, yet they don’t have the time of day for you. They are everything I can’t stand in a person. They also played a role in creating a lot of the issues I have to this day.

You see, when I was living out of the state, it was really easy to ignore my family. They were far away. They couldn’t drive down the street to see me. They didn’t know what hours I was working, they knew very little about what was going on- so it was totally understandable that almost no one in my family called me or spoke to me. But then I had the misfortune of moving back to the desert. Down here, I have almost all of my mother’s side of the family within an hour’s drive. I can go and see three generations of family at any point in time if I want. We’re all here.

And all moving back here did was push in my face how little anyone even noticed I was gone.

I live an hour to an hour and a half from my mother. I work less than ten minutes away from where she works. You know how often I see her? I see her once per month for about 20 minutes when I drop cat food off to her. If I never dropped off the cat food, I’d see her maybe twice per year.

I have two aunts and uncles that live an hour from me. They throw lots of parties for family members- birthdays, mother’s day- that sort of thing. Guess who never makes the invite list (and the one time that I did, I was ignored the whole evening).

I have grandparents (whom I love so dearly) who drive right past my house to go visit my cousin and uncle regularly. They have never been to my house. They never call and say ‘hey, let’s meet up for lunch’. Nothing. I only find out they’ve been up there after the fact.

These are the types of issues that perhaps need to be worked on. The feeling of being unwanted. The feeling of never being worthwhile, or worth anyone’s time. I prospects of being unloved and alone. The constant feeling of being the square peg trying to fit in the round hole.

There is another layer to this as well, though. The layer and question of- do I really want to maintain a relationship with these people who apparently don’t give a crap about me? If they have traits that I can’t stand, and they never bother giving me the time of day- do I really want to try and mend that? I think the answer depends on the person in question. There are some family members that I would LOVE to have a relationship with. And there are some that I really don’t care whether they stick around or not.

If this is the case, why do I care what the latter folks think of me? Why does it matter? What is the deeper problem nagging at me and creating these issues?

I suppose that is the real question.

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When the Well Runs Dry


I have spent a great deal of my Pagan life with my well overflowing. I’ve lived with someone with a broke open head. I work for a deity that will throw things at you and tell you to learn how to juggle… while riding a unicycle on a tight rope. So I know all about the well overflowing.

But, for one very very very long year- I had a barren, dry well. A well so dry, that the ground at the bottom cracked and turned to powder at the slightest touch. Ground that choked and begged for any moisture at all.

What frustrated me most about this time was that I could see the water disappearing. I knew it was being soaked up by the earth, evaporating into the air. But as I would look at my well day after day, watching the water get lower and lower- I knew there was nothing I could do. All I could do is watch the water disappear slowly but surely. And as I watched the water disappear, I got angry. Very angry. I felt betrayed by the world. I had been handed the bare necessities to make ends meet- but just barely. I was frustrated that despite my best effort, things were falling apart.

And to top it all off, at the time, I felt like the gods just didn’t care. I couldn’t reach them. I couldn’t hear them. It’s as if they had simply vanished from my life.

This, my friends, is what we call a Fallow Time. It’s a time when the water runs out, the land becomes parched, and in many cases- all of the plants you had growing seem to shrivel up and die. It can be a time of complete frustration, utter despair, and can result in a complete lack of faith in not only your gods or guides, but yourself.

I think it’s common for every person to hit dry spells- whether in a religious context or not. We all have times when things just aren’t working. When we are out of our groove, and nothing seems to be panning out. And the biggest question I often see is- what do you do when these times hit? How do you handle it?

My best answer comes in the form of a quote from Avatar, the Last Airbender (series, not the movie):

“I don’t know the answer. Sometimes life is like this dark tunnel- you can’t always see the light at the end of the tunnel, but if you just keep moving you will come to a better place.”

When your water runs out your initial reaction is to stare at the ground. The plants are gone. The growth is gone- and all you are left with is a barren field. And usually when this happens, we all sit there- and just stare. We get angry that all we can do is look at the ground as it looks back at us- mocking us. And we stomp our feet, scream, throw fits- all at the ground. And for what? That doesn’t bring the growth back.

But what does bring the growth back? If this metaphor was a garden- the answer would be easy. The master gardener would tell you to clear out the old growth. Plow and fertilize your soil. Gather your seeds, and prepare to plant them. You could try to plant them now, and bring in water from afar- or you could wait until the rainy season comes back, and plant them then. Either way, the best way to spend your time in the interim is preparation.

So why can’t we take this metaphor and use it when the Fallow Times hit? Your practice is dead and barren right now. You might be having a hard time focusing. You could be preoccupied with other problems and mundane situations. There could be financial hardship. Any number of reasons can cause a well to suddenly lose it’s water. However, the best thing to do once the water is gone isn’t to rail at the land which sustains you. It’s to prepare the land to be able to grow again. Slowly, take a step forward, then take another and another. It could be a while before you reach fertile times again- but at least you know that when you get there, you will be ready for the rain. Your seeds will be in hand, and your practice will be primed and ready for growth.

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