“Disability, Witchcraft, and Siren Songs”
So much in witchcraft books is bootstraps. Your desire is your power. You can achieve these goals, but only if you work hard and pull yourself up by your bootstraps. There are no excuses. The only thing standing in your way is you. If you cannot achieve these things, you must not really want them.
They then proceed to lay out ways in which to practice the craft that are attainable by able-bodied, neurotypical people. If they’re attainable by the rest of us, well, that’s a lucky break.
Disabled people know from hard work, okay. What’s easy for you lot…isn’t easy for us.
If witchcraft is supposed to be for the powerless, how come so much of its instructions are written for the able-bodied or neurotypical? Even from writers who seem to be hip to what it means to be marginalized — disability is, once again, on the outskirts of social justice.
Read Morag’s whole essay, and think about it good and hard.
I can’t review this because I don’t actually have it—I only just learned from Winter’s blog post announcing The City is a Labyrinth that it’s out. But Winter never fails to write excellent stuff, so check it out.
I am silent, not because I am willing to let anyone who thinks everyone like me should die go unchallenged (I am a Nazi target for several reasons), but because I am struck speechless; I can find so few words.
I find myself longing for a temple to Athena, to which I could bring my offerings and prayers, and in the antechamber of which I could sit in Her presence. So I am directing your attention to The Virtual Temple Project led by Silence Maestas of Walking the Heartroad. I cannot contribute to this project this month, because I’m moving apartments, and maybe not next month either. But precisely because it would so help me at this moment to have a virtual temple space to Athena—indeed, to any of my Gods—, I’ll be contributing as soon as I’m organized in my new apartment.
Speaking of Walking the Heartroad, good book. I’m rereading, and it’s reminding me of important things.
Over on my more pro-writing-focused WordPress, a viciously political short story with a Hellenic polytheist protagonist: “Courage: I Remember, I Say Her Name“. Mind the content notes.
O Hestia of Hearth and Home,
Whose light I see in the flicker flame
of this little candle,
if ever You have guided me
before, please guide me now.
If ever You have aided me
before, please aid me now.
If ever I have poured you
water, tea, or wine
before, please help me now
to organize my home and things
and box them up and clean them.
I get the keys to my new home
in two weeks plus one day.
I’m not ready.
Do I have the strength
to get all this done
Please grant me the strength
to go pack one more box.
O Hestia, the new home will be better,
and I ask that You bless there
and bless here, that my move
may be orderly, my move may be swift,
and when the dust settles
we’ll live in a home
guarded and guided
by Your blessing, Your light.
I thank you.
Just so you all know, I have an Etsy and a Redbubble, for devotional art. The Etsy is about half pocket shrines right now.
The Artemis watercolor you can see in both locations and featured here, “Artemis Runs”, did not come out of my trip to the state park on Sunday. Not exactly. I’d planned that painting before I planned the trip. But there’s still something about that painting that I don’t think is the same as it would have been had I done the painting before walking in the forest of the state park. (That thing is not the un-deer-like deer. I am not very good at depicting animals.)
I’m not sure yet what to make of my experience in the forest of the state park. I can tell you Artemis is beautiful—I wrote a poem for Patreon about exactly how I saw Her. (Context: I’m horribly nearsighted.)
I keep trying to sit and do a stillness meditation but anxieties about undone mundane things keep tugging at my mind.