1992 - Until...
~ 1963-1972 *
Book of Gen
Remember Who You Are
All of life is alternating birth and death cycles. By 1992 I had had my share of both - sometimes at the same time.
I have so much transcribing to do - these pages are coming in fits and starts, working backwards from the most current or vivid. I have no serious organization here. Some entries are electronic and easily transferable, some are still on paper written by hand and some are still in my mind. Yes - I am as guilty as anyone about keeping accurate records. I'm great at getting things down and then putting them in a really safe place. Then moving from one room to the next - one house to the next, and then the Husband, Arawn, reorganizes. So, this will happen with the ebb and flow of my archeological will. (See, this website is doing just what I had hoped. Forcing me to get organized.)
I was only working part time as an Assistant Producer at a local television station when my husband, Arawn, lost his job and all the bills stopped getting paid. We refinance the house and took money out for both of us to live on until I found a better job. At that point my now Husband, then boyfriend was working and supporting myself and two kids. Then I got laid off.
I had dozens of applications out and took a crap job in the mall because I could work four ten hour days and keep Monday open for job interviews.
We were pretty down when we couldn't scrape 37 cents for a loaf of bread. I began an attraction spell with the chant, just one phone call and everything changes for the best. (Not better - best) I wasn't seeking a job - I was seeking the job. It took a bit of time but the phone rang. (After I took THE job, it rang and rang and rang with offers for other jobs, but I was taken.) It proved to be a great job for nearly eight years.
(Someone correct me if I got this date wrong- Maxxah?)The family had just gone to a movie - Cutthroat Island - and we decided to go to our favorite English Pub afterwards. We were traveling in three cars, ours in the lead, when I suggested getting on the Freeway. I have no idea why, because it was only minutes when I began to feel the dread. I told the Husband to slow down. He did - a bit -indulging me - as he is (most often) a non-believer. It wasn't enough, and I told him to slow down again. Someone was getting/was going to get into a car accident and three car loads of people that I loved were on the freeway. My husband, Arawn slowed down, as did the other cars behind us - although, all had question marks in the thought bubbles over their heads, except in my foster brother Dagda's case, where it was filled with #%&*@$#!^ - : )
My stomach was tied in knots, my heart racing, and I was having trouble breathing - as cars streamed around us at or over the speed limit. Within a few minutes we hit the traffic jam. All lanes slowed to a crawl, and I was relieved to know that the accident would not involve my family.
However, I was still breathless. I knew we were all safe, but the tension in my chest was painful. I was trying to breathe and not hyperventilate as the car slowly inched to our exit. Then I felt my chest release. I could breath normally again. I said it aloud. Whoever it was, it was over.
Just as we inched into our exit lane, we saw the overturned blue truck. Two sheet covered bodies were scattered many feet apart where they were ejected from the rolled over truck. Next to the truck, one sheet was just being placed over a third person.
I'm not sure where in the accident I connected. I think after the fact because the paramedics seemed to have been there for a while. I felt the connection as soon as I got onto the same street that the truck had come off. My best guess was that I had connected to one of the paramedics. His/her attention level was high, with controlled but heightened breathing and heart rate. I think the connection released when the paramedic lost the final victim. So, I didn't actually feel the victim die, I felt the accute tension and then resignation of the paramedic who failed to save him. This being confirmed when we saw the final victim, being covered up.
One might ask why my psychic abilities didn't just keep me off the freeway to begin with. Only the gods know. What I do know is that it was the first time my husband saw the results of one of my "slow down" warnings while driving. Even though he witnessed me talking step by step through the event happening to me, he reserves the right to remain a skeptic. However, when I say slow down, now. We slow down. And like most people, the further away he gets from the event the more out of focus it gets. So, he is still a non believer, but he has never askes me if I really believe in "all that junk."
Our first big Halloween party. We had spent too much money and my husband, Arawn, had taken days off work, designed and made special effects, creatively carved pumpkins and designed fighting and skill games for a great evening. when the weather report said more wind and rain.
He rarely asks me to intercede in anything for him. And as a rule I don't because he likes knowing his achievements are his and not magick. (Although I'm not sure that's possible, because he is not without his own magickal gifts, acknowledged or not!) So, his asking me to protect the party was rare. I pushed a little and the evening was slightly breezy requiring a cloak, but no rain. The moon was full and wicked. It was one of the most fun evening we ever had.
We were at the cabin and I had been reading Silver Ravenwolf for about a hundred pages it
seemed. She got to the place where she was describing the different style visualization
that some people used for creating a magickal circle. As she described water, shrubs,
blood and light, I realized that I was out of breath. My heart was palpitating. (Now, I
know the altitude can get to me for the first few days until my lungs acclimate, but we
had been there for over a week.) I couldn't figure out why I was so hot and having
difficulty breathing, the window behind me was open and the one to my right gently ruffled
the wildflowers in the vase on my makeshift altar. Then, I realized that I was casting and
uncasting a magickal circle from just reading the description of the same. It was one of
my first acknowledged experiences with what I call "Wild Magick." I later realized that it
had been going on for many years and that I would have to go backwards to analyze it and
record the experiences that I could remember having with it. ((I would continue to work in
the dark with this kind of magick for another five years (which is not fun for a control
freak who thinks Wild Magick can't be a good thing!) before hearing of one other person
ever having experienced it. As far as I knew, I was the only practitioner, until I read
about it at the cabin in September 2003. Lois Bourne calls it "Instant Magick," in her
book, *Witch Among Us*.)
September Initiation 1998 - The Priestess path
I was hoping to finish my robe, but I didn’t have time. I was frustrated by my not having the time to do half of what I wanted to do. I wasn’t even sure where we were going. I tired to think, oh well, spontaneity delights the gods, but was really disconnected to what I thought I was supposed to be doing. What to take, what to say, what to do, where to go. It took a bit of ghost tone to remind me that transformation should be a little scary. So...a new location...a place where I may never tread again...was appropriate for a ritual of transformation...not knowing where I'm going...not knowing what I will find there is great symbolism for a ritual of birth.
I normally like planning things to the finest detail...especially if it's important. We couldn’t just have an ordinary wedding. We had to make everything, the invitations, the program, the napkins and matches with original gold embossed designs on them. We had to design the renaissance costumes, the ceremony, our vows, the traditions within the ceremony, the sword and pin, the handfasting cord, the cup celebrations, the candle ceremony. We pulled it off to perfection.
But unlike my wedding...time and fate seemed to block my every attempt at creating a dedication ceremony that was extraordinary. One frustration after another, not having time to finish anything…I released my concern with the thought that maybe this ceremony was not to be controlled by me...as I am the one being initiated...but by powers higher than my own.
And it was completely magic. Profound. The actual ritual I keep to myself. But even the mundane seemed magick kissed.
We went up on Sunday...the drive was wonderful. We found a campsite immediately. The weather was clear, but it was obvious that it had rained most of the morning. Everything was very damp...clean...beautiful. Our campsite was backed by a small meadow. There lived many trees - ancients to saplings - Blue Spruce and Birch trees providing a dense wall surrounding the meadow.
After we set up camp, I decided to walk the forest edge. I decided to do the ritual on Sunday...properly the full moon. So I walked the distance and back a bit from the edge of the forest...I found myself in a faery ring of trees...in the center one stalk of small white flowers stood tall. The trees were dense on all sides accept to the east...where the Moon was going to rise. I knew instantly that this was my spot. I walked the unmarked path three times to memorize it...as I would be walking in the dark...and without a flashlight, so as not to draw attention to myself. At right, looking from the South facing North.-->
I went back to camp and we cooked dinner...laughed, talked and ate. I finished writing the basics of the ritual I had planned to do. Afterwards, we built a huge bonfire...(Appropriate to the goddess who is my patroness...as she is a fire goddess.) We watched the fire, held hands...talked and played Trivia Pursuit as the rest of the campgrounds went to sleep. We stood moon watch...waiting for her to rise. I was afraid that I might have to do a moon ritual without a moon if the clouds didn't clear. But they did. The night was crystal clear and clean.
When the camp was completely asleep, I dressed in my old robe, gathered my old tools and made my way to the chosen spot. The moon was bright and I didn't need a flashlight. It was about 11:00 and I knew that the moon would be too low…but I still felt that the time was right. So I moved as I was inclined to. When I found my faery ring…I knew why…the moonlight was shining in the center of the circle through the only opening in the leaves…which was directly east…directly in the moon's path across the night sky. Had I waited till the moon was high…the delicate bower of leaves above me would have obscured the moon after only a few minutes and I would have been in shadow. This way, the moon would shine in the center of the circle.
I began my ritual in the complete stillness…it was lovely. It was about 10 minutes into the ritual when I realized that the wrap I was wearing, to stay the 60-degree cold from me, had slipped off my shoulders…and that I was not cold. I was wearing nothing but my robe…(deep neckline, three-quarter sleeves)…skyclad under…no shoes…60 degrees and I was…Warm. Not just "not cold"…but I was really warm. The temperature in my circle must have been at least 78 degrees. I was touching finger tips to water…walking in wet grass…and when I'd come back to the tent I proved it to Arawn,my husband. I asked him to touch my hands and feet…they were dry and warm. My skin was warm. (His hands were not warm they were cold…as he had followed me a discreet distance and stood sentinel in the moonlight…watching over me.)
I've heard that "circle" work generated not just psychic or spiritual energy…but actually responded to the laws of physics just like any other confined space. Too many people in a confined space reduces oxygen and do to body heat, cause people to sweat or even faint. I rarely cast a circle because I do mostly minor magick, not requiring a circle. (When I have attended a Wiccan Sabbat rite…I stand outside the circle…as I am not Wiccan…just a Wiccan sympathizer.)
As I've had little experience "in circle", it was quite a shock to find physical proof of a magickal event. I don't require proof…or faith…in anything. (Which is why it was so special to get it on this particular night.)
After my ritual…Arawn wanted me to "whip a little magick" on him to prove that my "official" status had actually taken place. "Make the rain stop,” he said. I laughed at him and said, " Oh, I see…you still need some side-show smoke and mirror trick?" (He knew it would piss me off. So I hit him.)
Yet throughout the next two days…I had made a transformation. I was keenly aware of my surroundings. (As if someone turned all my senses up to "11") I was seized by one sound after another and could identify the reason for each. I could feel every time the wind changed directions before it changed directions. I knew every time the sky threatened to fall, but had no intention of doing so.
I knew what time the rain was going to burn off on Monday. I told Arawn the exact time, casually over breakfast…in our tent…in the pouring rain. It stopped when I said it would…and didn't return the rest of the day. I politely told the screeching squirrel in the tree above our tent that we were trying to take a nap and he politely shut up. The chipmunks refused to let me take their picture until I realized my shadow was bothering them. I moved and they posed perfectly for my camera. When the grasshoppers showed up on Tuesday, they hopped and sang…"Here I am! I need a mate! Aren't I pretty!?!?!" And I got lost looking at a rock from an ants point of view, watching the wind play with the tall grass, and sensing the age of the trees around me.
But my reward for the entire week-end….when all the campers had left on Tuesday and we were packing up…I went to the bathroom…and came out to find I was face to face with three pair of the most beautiful deep brown eyes. Deer…triplet babies. “Well, Hello!” was my involuntary response. All three were calmly looking at me…not running immediately at the sound or sight of me. I took a deep breath and fully realized the moment. They stayed for several slow heartbeats, then casually turned and hopped back into the forest.
The whole weekend was a blessing. I must have thanked my man five times for how wonderful he was. I mentioned how lucky I felt for sharing the days with him. We laughed, loved and played for only two and a half days, but it felt like a week.
Within days, I was wrapped up in my mundane stress and mental clutter. It seemed very far away. And I thought the small connections I made to nature in my hypersensitive state would have stayed with me longer. It didn’t. But I write to keep memory fresh. I write and record everything. All the experiences of that week end. Every one but the one in circle during that ritual, that I was unprepared for, that ritual that wrote itself in my head moment by moment, and I remember as if it had happened yesterday.
(I eventually did write the ritual down.)
My oath taking gifts were:
An ethereal temple
A secret name
September 11, 2001
At around 4:am Pacific Time I began to have nightmares that I was falling. At first I was in a car with a friend driving over a cliff into the ocean. I woke up with a start and talked myself back to sleep. But the nightmare continued. I was falling again, this time over the cliff by myself, as if I'd jumped. I kept waking up and going back to sleep to find the nightmare remained. I got up, got a drink of water, went to the bathroom, took time to insert serious consciousness between me and my dreams. It didn't work. I slept fitfully – repeatedly jumping, falling, cliff, ocean.
My mind was obviously upset about something. I asked myself, what could be so wrong in my psyche to be punishing me in such a way - for hours? Once while falling, I finally turned toward the cliff as I fell and imbedded in rock and soil wall was the Statue of Liberty except this time, the cliff was crumbling over it's head with debris falling along with me.
By around 8:am Pacific Time, I was not strong enough to block the sheer volume of experience - of the people in the towers, the people watching on the ground and those watching from around the country and the world on their televisions. (There are no words invented to share the impact that still lingers, regarding what I am about to say.) When I gave up trying to sleep, I turned on the bedroom TV - to get out of the nightmare.
Trying to view the dream experience from a clinical point of view, I began having the dreams about the time hijackers M.A. and A.A. (their names get no rememberance here) boarded Flight 11 in Boston. That would mean my first nightmares were clairvoyant and probably turned telepathic during the later hours. I seemed to be tied more critically to the North tower where most of the jumpers were.
By the time I turned on the TV, both towers were already down. It took me almost thirty minutes to actually internalize what I was watching. I simply could not get it into my head that the towers were gone. It was unthinkable. The whole event was unthinkable.
One of the hardest parts of being clairvoyant or telepathic is the feeling that you are there. (If one childhood horror can scar a person for life and mandate drugs, psychotherapy and disfunction as a result - imagine what hundreds would do. I've psychically crashed on so many planes, it's no wonder that I hate to fly. But I do, when I must.) So, I had to fight to remember that it wasn't me, I wasn't there. The events of 9/11 feel very personal to me. I feel as if they happened to me. They did not. They did not happen to anyone I love. They did not happen to anyone I knew. Yet, it feels very personal.
Fundamentally, this is wrong. The mind is a good servant, but a poor master. My psychic talent makes me no more than a voyeur, if I can do nothing to prevent the horror. No matter how it may feel, my feelings are lying to me, but it takes quite a bit of discipline to compartmentalize these feelings properly and not in an egocentric way, like some silly thirteen-year-old girl who just wants to share in the drama.
Still, it felt so very personal.
The successful sale of a family business that after two years of trouble, mistrust, bad energy and several law suits - untangled itself after four months of work to be resolved bloodlessly. I get in trouble here with Wiccans and White Lighters, as I used dark magick to untangle us from legal issues by a man that was trying to steal two of my daughter's inheritance. I used powerful, binding, threatening, and promising magick...that controlled by his greed would be very uncomfortable. The two girls jumped into the karmic debt by lending energy to my work. Ending bloodlessly...I believe we did it well.
My compulsive response was to keep every scrap of information on every person that was lost, every person that survived, every person who helped, all their stories of loss and hope, tragedy and triumph. It was tactile therapy, something I could do with my hands. It demanded my right brain to engage away from my left brain visions, using my logical, organizational mind. Since 9/11, dozens of books have come out with the information that I gathered, and I have those books too. Still, they are passive and my scrapbook with all the tattered newspaper, local and national, all the magazine clips, e-mails, quotes and images...was an active way to helped me to express my grief and numb my psychic memory.
It didn't really work. As I write, it is all still so vivid, disturbing and punishing. I still donate to the Red Cross. Disaster relief is one fo my main charities, now.
Arawn, my husband and I came up to the cabin alone for the first time. We needed to do some heavy maintenance on the cabin and everyone else was booked. It actually ended up being quite a fertile few weeks for several reasons. I ended up writing my fingers to the quick and reading several books. One by Lois Bourne whose old school training and practice was familiar and comfortable. Except for her dabbling with a dark side of some people's nature which I don't do, I loved the book. But even the dark references were told in a charming and intellectual way. She questions and doubts herself all the time to prevent gullibility. She was practical and even pedestrian in her story telling - and after meeting the twentieth HPS whose manner and ego were in the stratosphere - she was a refreshing breath of English lavender. And for the first time in years of asking as many HPSs and HPs I could find - I finally met through her book - another witch who has experienced Wild Magick. Her taking it all in stride, has made me relax about it more, and after curbing it and channeling it to work more safely - I'm seeing it as just another of my developing attributes.
© 2004 Ardriana Cahill
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