The Sloan Fine Art Show was super fun and amazing. Thank you to everyone that came and to Alix and Tiffanie, it you made my art dreams come true!
*Hand Book For Hot Witches
WHAT HAS BEEN REVEALED
The truth is the blood and guts of ones soul that comes oozing out when one has been smashed alive by God like a bug.
I found my own Hand Book For Hot Witches two days ago. It’s called Confessions of a Pagan Nun, by Kate Horseley. I want to ask the publishers if I can make it into a graphic novel because it rocks so hard and would be a wonderful teaching tool for so many.
God gave it to me because I was in agonizing pain and I asked for my life to unfold every moment and reveal the path to peace.
I was walking in the cold wind crying. I saw a pile of books and in a moment drew my hand to the first one I picked. I practice bibliomancy, by asking the universe questions and flipping through a book to land on the word or phrase in the book to answer the question.
This is like bibliomancy but with a whole book that every word of every page answers every question I can think of. I have asked God for this before and I can practice Living every moment in the present because I learned how through Buddhism. When in this practice, I notice the gifts all around me and magnetize exactly what I need and request. I also keep my mind and options open to receive new gifts and lessons.
This book had been translated from a manuscript written first hand by Gwynneve, a witch in the dark ages around 450 AD.The time when Pagans were beginning to be slaughtered by Christians. Reading her writings is like having her sitting across from me as a friend, telling me everything as if we were having a conversation. I want to reach back in time to the 1500’s and give her a hug to tell her it’s ok. Her words made it to the future and I will do everything I can to put it into practice.
This manuscript was revealed to me because we are now in another dark age, where we can learn valuable lessons from her on how to go back to Paganism now that the patriarchy, and industrialization has run its course. The age of Pisces is coming to a close and the age of Aquarius is here, this is what the Myans are talking about when they refer to 2012 being the end of time.
My best friends in New York are Jewish and Tibetan; both are races that know gentricide and injustice. I know why I so deeply empathize and obsess on justice for these crimes against nature and family because I now so clearly know my race has been brutalized for centuries.
Although I am white, I am not whitey. In fact I am the cracker attacker! I am the race of the Fae, or the “Bean Sidhe” as the book told me.
I can feel the pain of every forest burning, of every animal that goes extinct or is tortured in a factory farm, every political prisoner, the fish choking in the ocean. I feel them because I AM them, they are my race.
When I wrote my graphic novel Gasoline it came from this, but now I know I have to create the utopian renaissance and rebirth out of the industrial dark ages we are now in. I wrote about it in a book, but it has to manifest here in life first in the weird virtual world of telecommunications and then in reality.
There is a place where particles of matter and waves are the same. There are no words for this place, but it is where a Druid can breathe onto a stone and it turns to dust. It is time to dwell and go to this place, to never forget where it is.
I have to go to Portland Oregon because of the strange combination of Technology and the spirits of trees and how they both can help me begin a new society.
I have lived in a city with a population no less than 8 million because of the dreams and promises that a metropolis has to offer. New Yorkers have to spend ninety percent of their incomes on apartments they still think are too small, and they have the lowest breakup rates in the country because there is no other place for the broken up with to move.
But I have now found that the limitations and dreams I accepted when I was younger have either been realized or have been revealed to be delusional. They have metamorphosised into a narrow and secret passage leading to an expanse of space and liberation I had not realized existed. I now prefer peaceful surrender to noble battle, for in peace is an eternal freedom one never has in war, though sometimes fighting is necessary for external freedom.
My disappointment is not bitter, because I once was with a companion who did not turn his back on truth.
In the book the Faeiry lady Gwynneve looses her witch mother to death by medieval worms. Her mother was unrepentant and howled at the moon, carefully picking herbs from the forest and had hair like a fine long black cloak over her tattered real cloak. Her soul mate Witch Husband was slaughtered by Christians.
Although I have lost my witch husband soul mate, I find solace in knowing it at least has not been to death.
On our wedding day he promised to weave me a crown from his raven black hair to wear over my yellow faeiry hair. He promised to raise our adopted daughters to be witches in paradise and never know the suffering of this patriarchy, and to care for me even if I loose my mind. He said I’d get even more beautiful when I am old.
He recognized me from Atlantis where we used to live, and showed me his Druid tricks, which he specialized in through education, ancient thought and technology. He promised to help me use all this to make the movie for my book Gasoline if all the other promises of others failed.
I mourn over the loss of these promises now gone and the hope that burned bright with them.
I am not crying because I am being negative, as I have been accused, nor am I crying because I am being weak. Being a robot devoid of Passion and able to turn off his emotions does not make a man stronger. It takes more strength to feel.
But I now know there are two reasons I have no home and have been a wanderer my entire life. I have to create my home, which I know how to do now, thanks to the brutal heartbreak and enlightenment that has befallen me upon the release of my magnum opus and the loss of my soul mate at once, and also because I am a Druid, who have to wander to learn and pass on their teachings.
A teaching and quote from Gwynneve for all the hot witches, from one Druid to another:
“And here I say that a woman can ally herself with men’s power as long as she has her youth to offer. But when a woman looses her youth, she will regret playing that game.
And she will wish she had instead learned the art of druid or warrior to make those less wise respect her capacity for affection."
The definition of chivalry is for men to serve and protect women. It is an ideal and I believe is not entirely dead. But when all else fails, women do not need to rely on men for protection. And by the way, the only reason women ever need protection is usually from other men.
I am facing the patriarchy again now without my witch husband, I am weary of the inane games it forces me to play, but I am thankful that though I no longer have my true love, I do have my friends and family so I am not alone.