Difabled Hedgewytch

It takes certain magix, and indeed special ability to navigate dis-abilities, ha! A paradox. To live with several invisible illness diagnosis, whilst I can only describe from my own experience, may perhaps have echoes or resonances..

Have you mayhaps wondered, if you are one of the couple of folk who pop by here, what's chloeopal's label collection? I don't mean clothing but medical model ones.... 

Please bear in mind that these are only an aspect description of who I be, but as several of them are highly stigmatising under some circumstances, felt to blow em out of the realms o hidden, and take em for an amble along the shoreline, in the winter sunshine. 

I am diagnosed Schizoaffective (a combination of Schizophrenia and mood disorders which can take a long time to identify), Complex PTSD (which means repeated trauma, generally when young) and a pain aka nervous system gig Fibromyalgia. All are very intermeshed, distress leads to pain, leads to distress etc.....

Yesterday and today I've been working on an 'envisioning board', old skool style....scissors, paper, glue onto cardboard. It's brought me to this place of sharing not due to a pity party but because I've had to acknowledge my pacing requirements in life, now and moving forwards. For example, here are my words for moving forwards which I feel merrily reflect my current realities. Followed by a drawing crafted with blessings n incantations over it, and the collage thus far....

 

 

About a month ago I spoke with my Spirit Kin (Guides aka) whom there had been a rather long pause in dialogues with. I asked that they / welcomed them to come back into my realms of awareness, as I missed them. They have, and like through a thin veil, I see, sense and hear their presences again....as one, by one, they return. Accompanied by some new crew, some of who scared the shit out of me at first, but thats a whole nother tale! 

I simply share all this, to open the door to the beauty of Wytchery that can coexist, with difability. This is deep soulfull work, not madness. The more grounded and earthed we are, these experiences teach more deeply, with presence, time and patience given...

I'd like to briefly but gratefully acknowledge Emily's Tarot and Magick, who led me to Beverley Butterfly on YouTube, for their empowering attitudes of difabled witchery in their experiences, ta. There are also 2 books referenced to, which I haven't read, but could be leads if you seek? 'Disabled Witchcraft' by Kandi Zeller, and 'Chronically Magickal' by Danielle Dionne. Peer support, beautifull thang!

If we can be who we are, in authenticity, and shine our selfs out, mayhaps juz one other folk might feel guided to do said same, whatever their circumstances....

Blessings n good vibes, chloeopal 

 

De-composition....old growth forests and aspects of selves....

I have realized there's a leaf litter pattern on repeat, at times. A crafted intimacy developing, then a schism / tear, and then a barring of /cutting ties with, or having them cut from me. In particular around expressed vulnerabilities like well being challenges / difabilitys, or shock when I reveal the depths of distress experienced with living's ways. Such as involving ideation, or when I lose the sheen...

It's been a losing / loss that's repeated, and I can see it could continue to. Is this simply part of life's cycles, phases and ebb n flow? Like the building up of fallen leaves becoming a bed o mulch at tree base?

It can cause much wounding, and deep grief, acceptance as required, yet also anger, that this is in the flow of my oft gentle meandering path…..

People once dear and beloved over heartbeats... 

This last month has been fairly rough at times, and I'm a little weary of life's vicissitudes, to say the least. Are they simply as is, part thereof? A pause, here and there, to gather one's courage for the next bout? When will it strike next? Shadow work?

Yet, amidst suchnesses, in the last month I have completed a witchin' stitchin' piece 'de-composition' around such themes. Composted relationships (including with previous aspects of ourselves), lives n leaves, and situations.....their breaking down. At times and regularly to lead to a very natural rebirth, like mycelium n microbiome greeblies. Mayhaps, with time, patience, crafting places of tall, even, old growth forests….

So, in this pause, I breathe into my belly, my heart...the electromagnetic pulsing core, and feel into this stillness. That it's 2.30am helps me reach such spaces, the quietude, the drop in energies loose. Right now I can be kind to what must die, hold her hand like a midwife, or doula, to beyond. It's ok Chloeopal, you can let that part go (even if only for a time, as rehearsal). Let it compost, break down happens, growth too....

These are linked processes.....

Like Sista Luna’s dance amidst stars….

 

Witchin' stitchin'.......work in process.....

 

The Cauldron's brewing after another deep pause...hhhmmm I feel our world could do with some more of them....a ramble...

Leaves n buds finding their places upon a foraged scarf, foot for scale (and general ambling). The leaves are Bloodwood stringy barked Eucalyptus of twisty branches, locale based n just coming into bloom when I gathered windfall....well, wind crashed, branches and divided em into manageable sized pieces post rain stormings. The next pic, a frock includes a few floristry treat cinerea leaves, the heart shaped ones, that although somewhat compostuous, still bore colour upon emerging from the cauldron.

The unfurling began upon sunrise, day 2. With a pretty songed yet, as I now know, deadly beaked assistant..... and a blue chair, that whilst sturdy, made me itch for the renovated 'pondering' chair which belonged to our grandmother, the bush loving (with the odd Foxglove, must be where I get it) Gran Bea. A wooden rocking chair, slightly more pleasure to mine eyes aesthetics. Currently being fixed n loved up by our local men's shed! Yet to be reunited with. Very exciting.....but I digress, back to the wee hour unfurlings.....

 

The bundles of joy, well at least they seemed promising from the colour on the outside. Don't judge a book by it's cover it's said, I'm terrible Muriel, love a good illustration, so bundles of joy it is!

 

Cuppa, string stick (was handily nearby) and the tie dye experimental scarf one of the markings of which follows below these bud plant echoes...

And after the unfurling, they were bundles of joy! Thank fwark as there were a couple of fancier frocks then I'm used to in the mix this time. One, a gift for beloved Aunt Marian, crafts wombyn jeweller and wood turner both supremo and humble-o! Along with a few treats n gifts from me to me! If I can hang onto em?! Next cometh the drying processes....love a good hills hoist eh?

 

So, I channeled and transmuted emotions into making, after a pause yet again, so oft any readers would be ho hum about it, but for me it's still a blessing, each n every time! I do work on the ground, so the next day I was hammered and laid flat and raw as sushi (but not as tasty). Whilst sharing here with love, I'll be laying low in Recovery, tis indeed a wide and wobbly rd, the body and hence aforementioned emotions. As I clasp the pentacle at my neck with crafters hands. Another gift from me to me, spoilage going down hey? Reminder of the Elements, and the Hedgewytchery I lean into. I needs be get myself back to centre for my dearly friend and true gentle man Miles birthday just beyond, yet still under the influence of, the New Moon! Like Echo dye, with me, you never quite know what you'll get, sometimes that's great, others shite! Ha! True friendships sail through both I'm learning, thanks to a small trusty circle, and a broader community of kindness n care....hermits learn slowly such lessons. Shamozzle a bit along the way....

I will just jump onto my soap box whilst I've got your ear (not literally but), and that's around trauma work. I know, stick to speaking about makings chloeopal. Well trauma is HUGE in our world, and I can't do political gigs or gatherings, so here's my bit. If's you are delving into memories, yours or ancestral, doing the work, PLEASE DEAR ONES take SUCH GENTLE GOOD CARE OF YOUR SELVES. Work out your pace, pause if you needs be and express it to those you support, and supporting you, practitioner wise especially, as you get ANY red flags, physical or emotional. GROUND AND CENTER IN KINDNESS. Who is supporting you, and what? I'm speaking from experiences of well n truly messing this up, but also of picking up the pieces and utilising makings to transmute and distract / immerse. Whatever your passions be....cooking, gardening, nature observation, bare feet, walking, fishing, water, crafting and arting, musix, poetry, journalling, potions n lotions, herbology, spirit, parenting, animals, wildlife activism, calligraphy IDK dive in and float amongst it with depth but softness o touch! If you will, I will too....I am aware not everyone in our lives all ways wants to hear about this stuff, but it's my blog n I can say it here! 

Illustration wise....the following one's were inspired by my mum, Diana's actions. Her reprinting of my missing in action A1 seasonal nature drawing from a phone pic, thanks Mum, you got me sketching again. They will go on display, I hope, at The Emporium, in the lovely and gently kick ass Jacky's shorebird space and display, of her birdy type ceramics, and collaborators (co-conspirators) worx. Share the shores folks, humung beans ain't the only one's who dwell t(here)....

 

 

 

 

Booze Free Herbal 'Elixirs'....

 These Wild Roses (Rosa laevigata) were harvested at our front door nigh Spring Equinox. From a bush (originating as a paddock foraged cutting) remnant of a cottage garden that outlasted the buildings. Once pot contained, she's now rambling all over one side of the front verandah. Simple white 5 petaled flower, pentacle like, subtle scent, kick ass thorns and alienesque hips with long spines when they mature......

She was hard to ID, but is known as the 'Cherokee Rose' in the USA. An acknowledgement that she grows along the path of the 'Trail of Tears', the Cherokee of all ages were forced to walk, when they were removed from their lands. Her five white petals representing the land, her yellow center the gold they were stolen for, some say, others simply that she grew from the fallen tears of that terrible winters march. 

 

  Her flowering here marked a year's returning home, and the beginnings of healing in this space for me, and darling Mush-cat. 

I felt it an apt time to make an 'elixir' of sorts, from all stages of hir flowers. 

 

A kinda hybrid version of a flower essence and a tincture. Being 7 years sober, I'm experimenting with booze free herbology. 

 

So, I popped the buds, calyxs, whole flowers and petals into a foundling op shoppe cut crystal bowl of full moon gathered rain water. I let em be thus at the base of the mother plant, in sun, and moon shine for one cycle. Strained out the green folk bits, adding an equal quantity o apple cider vinegar, and some maple syrup as preservatives n for general yumminesses. 

I'm calling these ACV experiments 'elixirs'. They are a blend of energetic and physical medicine it seems. 

Some follow up ones I brewed for much longer periods, with no water. Like a fresh gifted turmeric root, and cracked pepper one. If you've made or experimented similarly with alcohol free herbalism using apple cider vinegar as your menstruum, I'd love to hear about it. I guess it's food as medicine, a circling back around to my wise wombyn roots....

 

                                                                 

 

Turmeric root and Cracked pepper in ACV with Maple Syrup

                                                                           

                                   Ms Sprout an apprentice Booze Free Herbologist 

A morning meditation to center before beginning the day, especially if out and abouting....

 I begin.....inhaling through my nose, and then sniffing in, just that bit of extra oxygen. Then a slow easy drawn out exhaling. Thrice I do this, to bring my awareness into embodiment. 

Feeling my feet on the floor / ground, where my body's weight touches the chair/upon what I'm seated. I connect to the red of my 'sacral' chakra, between bum n yoni, in the soles of my feet. I see roots growing down, roughly two metres below Mama Gaia's surface. They entwine with the 'Earth star' chakra there, a pentacle. I pause and strengthen this connection, then remember and see the umbilical that goes from the Earth star chakra, down through the sediment, sand, bedrock to the very core of Parent Planet. I sit still, awaiting any messages to be received. A word, a sentence.....she seems none too lengthy, but clear. I visualise, the many souls, each connected to her center....remembered or no. I feel miniscule like a grain of sand by ocean side, yet my feelings are big.

I rise back through the soil, to the sacral chakra, red in colour, rotating anticlockwise here in the Southern hemisphere. 

I give thanks, to the Spirits of Land, Waters and Air for allowing me to be here, this beautifull place. Count my blessings. Then ask, that any Spiritual debris, static or negative projections be transmuted and transmogrified. Fall harmlessly through my feet as compost. I request my Spirit Kin, Guides and Allies to assist any attached entities, wayward Spirits, lost souls to move on into Source door, as I visualise an open door of light. Often shadowy figures go, 'head for the light, it will take you where you need to be, think of your happiest memory and walk in. If you have work yet to do here on Earth, you can now go do it, you do not belong with me.' 

At times, though I'm not generally an Angel folk, Archangel's Michael and Raphael come, or simply a sword and a cauldron, whom I thank, to assist with cutting energetic cords of attachment. A clean slate, each day not a severance, a cleaning.

I return my awareness to my sacral chakra's, in hand palms also. See the red, the spinning, check its direction is clear. Then move through the rainbow chakra points in my body. Orange in the belly, Yellow 'solar plexis', the heart green. Oft I pause at the heart, tapping around the thymus, calling back lights I may have hidden, or left behind, tucked away, it glows and grows. Expands, renewed. Like a heart soul retrieval.

Turquoise at my throat, Lapis lazuli blue at my third eye and then purple upon the crown of my head. All turning anticlockwise. From here, light shoots up, tendrils to about two metres above. The 'Soul star' chakra pentacle. The remembering of whence sit the campfires of the ancestors, as my consciousness rises up into the stars, for me The Pleiades. I pause again, listen for messages. 

A tall column is thus formed of light, running from the stars, to the center of the Earth. We walk betwixt. Souls embodied in the now.

Light flows from the stars, down through the soul star chakra, and moves down filling my head, shoulders, arms, fingers running down like liquid inside my skin. The first layer of protection. Then outside on the skins surface, tiny stars, 'glimmers' create the second layer of protection. Then a Hematite egg, that runs from the soul star chakra to the earth star chakra around my body. Finally an egg of Echidna quills, laying down for now, but able to stand if needed.

I place my hands in prayer position on my crown, third eye and heart 'Blessings and good vibes'. I thank my Spirit Kin, Guardians, Guides, Healed Ancestors, friendly Angels and Fae for walking beside me.... 

 

Be-aware n gratitude.....

Sleeping it our cosy beds at night, sitting upon our chairs or sofa’s in relative comfort…..do we realise that’s what it is? Does gratitude for the cup in our hand, with it’s steaming warm beverage exude through our pores? The medications that keep us in states of well being….physically, mentally and emotionally. Our whole bodily systems, indeed functioning as the web does second to second without conscious thought. Are we acknowledging of them as blessings?

Let alone the beauty of the nature and sentience of our capacity to place bare feet on the Earth, or see sky unpolluted or dim of pollution’s haze, overwhelming light coming only from the moon?

Our relative warmth as humans that encourages a stranger, or beloved to share kindness and general attitudes of supportive assistance when we are lost, vulnerable, or wounded? What if you were born, or life created you an award winning fuck wit…..hostile, angry, bitter, aggressive. Few would respond with anything other than disdain, and we may be only a few steps away from Maslow’s triangle’s unravellings....

He placed ‘home’ at the base of this. Homelessness, without choice, without a sense of belonging…..is only a few arcs of circumstance away from us all, including we who dwell in places of relative privilege. Out of war zones, or are we? Even if our screens keep it seemingly and conveniently at bay, or distant?

Yet I do not aim to plant seed’s of fear, there’s enough of that going round, but GRATITUDE. Great attitude….there’s a word game pondering….ha!

I’m not lecturing to anyone, if not myselves, as I type this in the dark alone. After the passing into spirit of my beloved feline familiar, who has been my companion for 25 years. Mayhap more. My relationship to time is a bit iffy but to her strong. Even now echoing in her face beside me, that purrs and says determinedly, ‘thank you for taking care of me (she was gently assisted in passing peacefully in my arms, to classical piano and whispered loving words, well loudly spoken...she was a bit deaf by the end), please do the same for yourselves’ In this time of grief. Grief and greed distort. Wounding, grief and greed…..beware….be-aware.

I have just woken from a nightmare, where gratitude didn’t exist in me, and I was in the base of Maslow’s triangle homeless and without possessions. Not even a frock, a decent jumper, let alone a phone. Apart from a certain degree of creativity, from which I could divulge sketches to sell.

As I gazed, thinking of the upcoming winter at a caravan sales lot. Beyond my means, let alone paying for the un PBS (Pharmaceutical Benefits Scheme) subsidised medications that could keep my sanity (‘scuse using the ‘s’ word) intact. I have no scripts, no ID to prove. There was no computer ledger or record of me….

How long will it be? I wonder from my fallen state, before I am crazed and fragmented, eaten alive by my own biochemistry sabotaging my perceptive states? Frightening events to have looming on the horizon, as many on the planet do? Mama Gaia, where did your child go astray? Award winning fuckwit? Humung bean?

Am I in the USA, Gaza, Sydney this nightmare didn’t specify, does life?

Do I even have drinking water, base line medical treatment, let alone access to herbology (although some 70 % of the worlds health care is provided by women in the home utilising plants I heard The World Health Organisation quoted, largely due to need and tradition) a meal, a blanket, some form of distraction like a book, writing gear? Do you? Could flood or fire take it away in a breath, I’ve tasted n seen some of the ravages after the fact and that’s a frightening experience. Does our complacency in our comfort replace our vision and senses acknowledgement. What of a safe space? The stars, campfires of the ancestors blink down upon us all, wherever and whatever our circumstances. Crying for our children, our Elders, ourselves, our land and the sentient beings we share her with, who suffer. We have enough for all. So how is it not shared? Back to wounding, greed and grief….

I’m not really into holding hands in a circle and singing of pieces of peace, and I don't injoy politics. I am an award winning fuckwit remember, and not real grand at group dynamics, but could perhaps be convinced by that determined organ that pumps circulating life blood through my veins 24/7. Which in the chakra system is green like the plants and centred betwixt our breasts…….