Dagda (G.G.) my foster brother, had a wind fall and decided to be our benefactor, supporting us as an investment in Arawn's art and my writing. He says, he is just supporting his family. He IS endless generosity. The first couple of years we improved our home, bought some luxuries, traveled extensively and shared the wealth with other family and friends. Then we decided that it was time to earn our pay. I chose this year...2004...as the year that is going to change our future. We are both launching more than websites with our websites.
I had always planned...while keeping oaths, to write my Mother's tradition in a fictional form. I was going to write a novel called the Book of Gen. That story is still worth writing, but the book's going to have to get a new title because, I have decided to break my oath and write Mother's "Science" as she predicted I would in the late 70s. I plan on writing three books to start and I am putting a book proposal together at the urging of my List mates on E-mail_Witches and Witches of the World Coven, Yahoo groups.
So - the demarcation of this new age of my life will be 2004 and tied to the launching of the website, joining the lists and meeting so many wonderful people who believe that I have something to offer the community. It is fitting that the first magickal record should be the following. Mother, telling me to get it right.
January 18, 2004
I was working on the website's introduction page, writing about the family tradition not really having a name. That Mother called it, the Science. I went on to write other areas of the site and went back to that sentence. I wanted to add that she also called it The Work, (because she harped on the working part of the work!) then I wanted to say something about Grandmother calling it The Craft or how calling it the Craft was too much like what the men in the white sheets were afraid of but...then my printer came on - as I was typing. I didn't hit control P. I didn't accidentally hit the print button. I thought Lady Familiar, who a few minutes before was being a cat and crawling on my printer shelf, might be there again and hit something on the printer. But she wasn't there. She was still being a cat but she had the rips running from my room into the hall. (Most of the time she acts like a person, so when she acts like a cat, we all look at her like something is wrong.)
See, I absolutely know I didn't accidentally hit a key. I didn't have my hand on the mouse. My fingers haven't left the keys. (And I have been literate on this machine for going on - what - twenty years now?... I tell you that it came on by itself.) I was looking at-- Okay it's doing it again as I edit this!!!!!!!! (Do you even see the letter P in the last five sentences?) I thought maybe it was doing a spontaneous ink check or something.
The document I am working on has about 17 pages. It printed only the first page with the introduction, and a few of the words on the second page, then stopped. None of the edits on the words regarding the Work or the Craft were saved. I looked at the copy, and "trick-sight" made the words, The Science - jump at me - increasing to about a 72 point font size.
I think Mother wanted me to emphasize The Science. So, Mama - I got the message. (And I need to refresh the water shield I cast on my computer for it's self protection from this fire witch!)
The second time it printed just two more words from page two. I don't think there is a meaning except - that it still didn't finish printing the rest of the page, or any of the other 15 pages that followed, like it was interrupted. This could go on all day...................three words at a time.
PS - It occurs to me that Lady Familiar's freaking out and crawling around the printer is pretty weird too - like Jack barking at the empty chair during that party in the old house - entry date???.
I kill electronics. Watches, toaster ovens, ovens, computers, telephones, answering machines, blow dryers, curling irons. (The only reason my cell phone is still alive is that I hate it and keep it turned off most of the time.) I blow out light bulbs when I'm upset or happy. Intensity in either direction often punishes me without regard to justice. Once, while writing about one of my plane crashes (and sliding into the emotional panic...) a light bulb above my head groaned, sputtered, an ozone stench fill the room and the bulb finally died a slow miserable death. Scared the crap out of me, thinking that I had an electrical fire. My husband, Arawn, came to the rescue, to remove the freaked out bulb and check for damages of both the light fixture and the wife. My Hero.