Grave Moss & Stars

KRT: Being Publicly Kemetic

This post is part of the Kemetic Round Table, which aims to answer some of the most common questions and provide a wealth of diverse options for the Kemetic novice to explore.

How public are you about your beliefs and practices?

I am remarkably “out” about most things: I’m openly queer and genderqueer, even at work and to family. I publicly support non-mainstream religions and personal identity choices—and I’ll even flip the coin to support the right to choose a mainstream religion against those who would tear that down, too. (Freedom of choice, and freedom of speech, apply to everyone equally, goshdernit.)

So, it’s hardly a surprise that I’m openly pagan/polytheist (yes, even at work, and even to family). I wear a lot of Kemetic-themed jewelry (which admittedly isn’t ankhs everywhere, so it’s not as obviously Kemetic) and talk excitedly about ancient Egyptian mythology when given half a chance. I haven’t often encountered a situation where I’m queried about what kind of pagan I am—quite honestly, in Texas, it’s usually enough that my religious choice goes uncontested. So, in that sense, I am less “openly Kemetic” and more just “openly pagan.” Which I am quite fine with. Being public about my beliefs means not avoiding or lying about them, but not shoving them down anyone’s conversational throats, either.

It’s worth noting that I am more public about my beliefs than my practices. I’ll happily talk about my practice and my relationships with my gods to fellow pagans/polytheists/Kemetics, but I do a case-by-case judgment call on sharing those details with people outside the sphere of paganism. If someone’s just looking for ammunition, I’ll be vague; if someone’s genuinely seeking more information for a greater understanding, I’ll share.

How has being publicly Kemetic impacted your work life and your familial and friendly ties?

In the sense that being Kemetic impacts how I act and how I choose my words, it’s had a major influence on all the facets of my life and all my relationships. However, being publicly pagan hasn’t really impacted much. I serve as a walking reminder that not everyone is part of a given religious majority, but with few exceptions, those who aren’t pagan don’t discuss the topic with me much. It doesn’t feel like a point of tension, but simply a non-issue.

What advice would you give to uncertain Kemetics about how to approach either telling or not telling others about their beliefs?

I always advise a safety check first. I have the enormous privilege of being able to be out of various closets safely, but not everyone is so fortunate, and it’s important to consider one’s physical and mental safety first and foremost. While someone may be served best by being boldly open about their beliefs, another person may be served best by remaining private and unchallenged. Society can be quite aggressive towards things it doesn’t like, and certain places and groups of people embody that hostility more than others.

If, however, one passes the safety check and deems it an acceptable risk to be out of the … what, ankh closet? What’s our equivalent to a broom closet? Khopesh closet? Barque closet? That’d be a big closet… anyways, I digress. If one chooses to be publicly Kemetic, one can take many paths to sharing their beliefs, among them the “sit down, I’ve got something to tell you” (which I did with my parents, in the days of yore) and the “tiny comments here and there” (which I do at work and with basically everyone) methods.

For the people who live with you or who are deeply, vitally important to you, it will probably be more effective to have a solid conversation, where you explain what you believe and can answer their questions in real-time, before misconceptions form and fester. The best way to handle that is to be honest and serious; I often ask someone to hear me out and not interrupt until I’m done, so I get a chance to get the full spiel out before they start in with questions. (I’m really blunt, so that method works well for me.)

For everyone else who doesn’t need the full explanation up front, just be open. Conversations will naturally turn in directions where you can gently correct their assumptions that you’re not Kemetic. I’ve found patience and politeness goes a long way in these gradual reveals; people may not pick up quickly on the hints you’re dropping, so just be persistent and don’t worry about it. (If you’re worrying about it, you may want to try the full-conversation option.) I find this method exceptionally useful for being non-confrontationally “out” as a queer and genderqueer person, though I’ve had to be blunter about the misgendering because most people don’t think past the male/female binary.

Above all, be safe, and remember that you can be selective. If you want your significant other to know, but not your blood-family, that’s fine—just make sure to tell your S.O. so they know when to censor themselves around others. If you want to tell your friends but not your coworkers, that’s fine, too. However public or private you are about your beliefs is entirely your choice; there is no “should” or “should not.” Be safe and find your own path to happiness and comfort.

If you enjoyed this post, please check out other takes on being publicly Kemetic by my fellow Round Table bloggers!

the horned serpent

The horned serpent has fascinated me since I was but a wee pagan, and its associations with Cernunnos, regeneration, and abundance have only helped its image in my eyes. I’ve doodled horned and antlered snakes for well over a decade, and it was only a matter of time before they showed up in my newer forms of art.

The above is a slice of tagua, vegetable ivory, a renewable resource and durable material for jewelry and other uses. The horned (well, antlered) serpent upon it is woodburned, freehand.

There may be an entire series of these to come. :)

PSA: Did you know I’m a commissionable artist? If you’re interested, you can drop me an email at itenumuti at gmail or find me at my Etsy shoppe, Mythic Curios.

PBP Fridays: G is for Green Fronds

Along the side of the house I grew up in, we had a row of ferns. They have so thoroughly ingrained in me my definition of “fern” that seeing the more common Christmas fern, with its gloss and its simple fronds, makes me recoil with the sense that something is subtly but definitely Not Right.

This is my fern, I think, after some searching: the marginal shield fern, Dryopteris marginalis, soft to the touch and not a stark, shining green.

They are not impossible to kill, but they are far from fragile, natives of my Appalachian forests and prone to becoming shin-high carpet between trees. They love the shelter of other plants and rocky ledges, happy in the shade and the damp soil.

They are not blooming plants, nor are they quick-lived plants. They are patient, hardy enough to outlast temporary extremities in temperature and moisture, able to survive even snow-dumping winters with aplomb.

From these ferns, as a child, I learned how to seek the shade for relief and how to unfurl all my many limbs into whatever shapes and strengths they could take. With these ferns, as a child, I rolled and played and dug and grew.

And from these ferns now, as an adult, I relearn the importance of patience, of hardiness, of receptivity to sun and shadow, to water and soil. With these ferns, as an adult, I am rooting and stretching, unfurling anew, and welcoming the slow nourishment freely given by the world.

This post inspired by Alison Leigh Lilly’s Sacred Keystones e-course.

This post brought to you by the Pagan Blog Project.

2013′s first G post was Grace.
2012′s first G post was Genderqueer and GLBTQ Netjeru.

offerings for Set, Lord of the Oasis

Yesterday and today were one of Set’s rare feasts from historical calendars, so I’d like to compile a few links to offerings created by others, then add one of my own.

From my multitalented sister Saryt (Ekunyi) come two songs for Set, her Father: Dua Set and Walk Forth In Strength.

From amazing beadworker Mortira comes a stunning Set-inspired piece called Desert Fringe, which is part of a whole series of beadwork inspired by the Netjeru.

From noted sculptor Nicolas of Shadow of the Sphinx is a lovely Set votive (scroll down to see the photos).

(Please note that I don’t mean to imply that either Mortira or Nicolas are Kemetic; I simply wish to share their gorgeous work here.)

In the past, I’ve wound up making quite a few little things for Set, including god dice, mini-hieroglyph paintings, a larger painting with Him and Bast, and most recently, a necklace with a double-sided woodburned tagua pendant. My partner J even made Set-inspired guitar dangles. (This is what happens when artists have siblings who like Set…)

Lastly, from myself comes a new offering for the Lord of the Oasis on this, His feasting day:

Dua Set, mighty in the prow of Ra’s barque!
Strike down the bastard snake and spill the blood of dawn.
Whet your blade on Uncreation’s glittering scales
until only ma’at is left, pure and proven.
Tear down the broken pieces in a maelstrom,
and we will grow anew on ash-fertile fields.
Isfet will not stop us, nor challenge, nor scars.
Your legacy burns in strong shoulders and steady eyes.
Dua Set, strongest of the gods, lord of storms!

PBP Fridays: F is for Fear

I have a curious relationship with fear. On one hand, I have a strong flinch reaction to certain things, often inconsequential ones; on the other hand, working with Sekhmet for so long as numbed me to certain kinds of fear, like the fear one might normally feel in the face of dangerous gods.

I am not afraid of any god. I am wary of many, and I will flinch away from many, and I have a healthy respect and avoidance of many, but I am not afraid of Them. If put in a room with only me and a god that would otherwise terrify me, I’ll stand openly and await Their first move. Maybe I never lost that adolescent feeling of invulnerability when it comes to spiritual matters. Maybe my faith in “my” gods outweighs the concern that gods Who may not care as much will toss me around; I’ve got backup, after all. Throughout all the twists in our relationship, I’ve never had any doubt that Sekhmet would step in if I were in a tight corner—and now I know other Netjeru would intervene, too. It’s a very good feeling to have that safety net.

But that doesn’t mean fear plays no role in my practice. I am afraid of unpredictable tragedies, like losing my partner or my animals or my friends to random and sudden accidents or illnesses. I am afraid of people with lethal amounts of venom at their disposal and a willingness to use it indiscriminately. I am afraid of the destruction of my body, in whole or in part.

I think those are probably relatively common, or at least understandable, fears. I’ve seen an awful lot of prayers and hekau and rituals designed to protect our loved ones, to protect ourselves, and to preserve or restore our health. I’ve seen some of those prayers, hekau, and rituals actively go forth to remove or destroy enemies and illnesses. Most people don’t want to lose anyone or be wounded, so it makes sense to have those common themes of protect-and-heal through our religions and our magic.

But there are more subtle ways fear can manifest. Turns out that my fear of venomous people is linked to feeling vulnerable in someone’s presence, which can show up even when I’m interacting with (or thinking about interacting with) deities. It’s hard not to feel vulnerable around entities Who are much more vast and powerful than I am, and sometimes I just want to curl up like a pillbug until They look the other way.

Similarly, I give certain deities a wide berth if They remind me of venomous people—Aset (Isis) is a great example for this, because of the enormous power She wields and the extents to which She will go to serve Herself and Her son, Heru-sa-Aset (Horus the Younger). I mean, She poisoned Her own father, Ra, in order to learn His true name and have access to that power, which She shared with Her son. I have no illusions about Aset’s cunning and resourcefulness, so I give Her a healthy respect and do not engage with Her unless I know I’m on sure ground. (Please note: I don’t dislike Aset; I’m just cautious with Her.)

And yet, I’ve still had the pillbug-urge around deities Who are not threatening to me. Gods Who look at me closely often receive that flinch-away response; I am uncomfortable when seen in too clear a light, because I am afraid I’ll be found unworthy. Deities of judgment or royalty (man, Aset again makes a great example) often evoke this reaction, as I’m pretty convinced my informal appearance and attitude are not up to snuff for any court, let alone a court of the gods. Not to mention all the internal imperfections that loom so large when I look at myself (but probably aren’t nearly so obnoxious from the outside looking in).

It can be a challenge to balance reasonable wariness born of mindfulness (that stuff that tells me maybe I ought to dress up and purify more than usual before greeting Aset) with flinching fear (that stuff that tells me maybe I ought to hide in a corner until She moves on). It’s worthwhile work, but such effort is nothing to sneeze at. I’ve seen a lot of people have to fight with their own flinches in order to approach the gods, and let me tell you, my friends, your courage is amazing and inspiring.

Please keep shining and pushing away the darkness of fear. You are not alone in the work you do, and the harvest you reap will be even more bountiful for the toil you undergo now.

This post brought to you by the Pagan Blog Project.

2013′s second F post was Feeding the Ka.
2012′s second F post was Feral.


March 19 (IV Peret 19) is the Festival of Ra in His Barque.

Hail to You, Ra, radiance of radiances,
sailing the blue waters of the sky
in Your magnificent barque.

Shine upon Your children
when the heavens are clear and bright
so that we may reflect Your glory in our eyes.

Shine upon the dead
when the heavens are dark and bestarred
so that they may reflect Your glory in their kau.

As You share Your light with us,
may we share our light with others,
for no sun or candle is diminished by kindling another.

PBP Fridays: F is for Fedw

Fedw is the official divination system of Kemetic Orthodoxy, restricted to those who have undertaken the Shemsu oaths. The name “fedw” means “four” in Kemetic, as it uses four sticks for divination. (Note: While sticks are the most common fedw tools, anything two-sided can work, including coins. Some Kemetics have even made dice work.)

While I am oathbound about the mechanics of fedw, I wanted to share a brief overview of what it is and isn’t, and what it can and can’t do.

Fedw is not interpretive. It’s not similar to Tarot, where I can draw a combination of cards and interpret and/or intuit their individual and combined meanings. Fedw is much more direct, with very limited room for interpretation.

Fedw is primarily for yes/no questions, not for subtle or complex situations. In addition to that simplicity, there are certain topics and types of questions that are not suitable for fedw, including medical questions (ask a doctor, not an oracle!), legal questions (ask a lawyer, not an oracle!), and any question with the word “should.” (If a querent asks “should I…?”, the diviner will recommend the querent rethink and rephrase the question to be more specific and clear. “Is it in my best interests to…?” is an example of acceptable rephrasing.)

Fedw only asks questions of the diviner’s Parent deities. Since all Shemsu have undergone the Rite of Parent Divination, we all have one or two Parent deities, and we can only ask questions of Them. For myself, this means I can only query Nebt-het (Nephthys) or Hethert-Nut (Hathor-Nuit)—though, in certain instances, I can ask Them about another deity.

Fedw will not answer loaded questions. If the querent already knows the answer, or if the querent is trying to phrase the question in order to get a certain answer they want to hear, fedw will not work.

Fedw will not permit repeated questions. This is true of more than just fedw, in my experience, but it must be clearly stated that asking a fedw diviner the same question twice will not work. Asking a question of one diviner, then going to a different diviner with the same question, also will not work.

Fedw is not a party trick. While fedw will not answer serious medical or legal questions, it is still a system that is not to be used for frivolous questions or to “test” the accuracy or the divination (see loaded questions above).

Fedw is always free to everyone. Fedw is, at its heart, a community service, provided by diviners to let querents and Netjer communicate in a simple, pre-determined structure. Shemsu are not permitted to charge money for divining with fedw, though they may charge a fee for non-fedw divinations. Relatedly, anyone may ask for a fedw divination—one does not have to be Kemetic Orthodoxy, or even Kemetic, as far as I know.

(To answer the likely question that follows that statement: Yes, if you are interested in a fedw divination, I can help. Email me at itenumuti at gmail dot com and we can discuss.)

To sum up, fedw is a non-interpretive divination system using four sticks to ask the diviner’s Parent(s) on behalf of the querent. It’s great for straightforward yes/no questions and will not work with complex or loaded questions.

This post brought to you by the Pagan Blog Project.

2013′s first F post was Father Gods.
2012′s first F post was the Five Pillars of Kemetic Orthodoxy.

KRT: The Impact of Kingship

This post is part of the Kemetic Round Table, which aims to answer some of the most common questions and provide a wealth of diverse options for the Kemetic novice to explore.

Does the concept of kingship impact your practice, and if so, how?

Being Kemetic Orthodox, the topic of kingship is a particularly relevant one to me, in a few different ways.

For one, kingship is one of the five pillars of Kemetic Orthodoxy (the others are community, ancestors, the gods, and Ma’at). For two, I have met Egyptologist Tamara Siuda, who is the leader of Kemetic Orthodoxy; she is considered our Nisut, our king, though the ways in which members of Kemetic Orthodox interpret that varies. For myself, I see her as our spiritual leader, well-qualified for the job both academically and personally. (As I have no way of personally verifying or disproving any divine right to be king, it ceases to matter in practical ways to me; I am solely concerned with an individual’s actions and attitude when in a position of authority.)

While the concept of kingship impacts my practice only slightly, the existence of the flesh-and-bones leader of Kemetic Orthodox impacts my practice quite a lot. She is a fount of information, support, and guidance, and she is as present as possible to lead or participate in online gatherings (some ritual, some guided discussions, some fellowship). Because my practice is tied to my community, and because she is the leader of that community, I can say with confidence that my experience and practice of Kemeticism would not be the same without her as our king.

However, a lesser-discussed but equally-prominent way in which kingship impacts my practice is its importance amongst the Netjeru. Some gods are kings and others are not; some serve the king, some protect the king, and others act autonomously. Regardless of value judgments (I don’t consider the god-king to be any “better” than another deity), it still provides something of a map, helping me to understand and interrelate various Names. The procession of kingship and heritage is also a major plot point in many myths, most obviously those around Wesir (Osiris), Heru-sa-Aset (Horus the Younger), and Set. The role of kingship in various gods’ identities can greatly impact the whole nature of the god in question: imagine Ra not being a king! It’d give His entire character a spin in a different direction.

In essence, it would be a challenge for me to completely extricate the concept of kingship from its manifestations among the ancient Egyptian gods and within my chosen community. While I don’t consider myself to be terribly amenable to monarchies, when taken in mythological contexts it can be informative and instructive to the nature and roles of the Netjeru, and when taken in a community context it can be very useful to have a strong, respectful leader. I wouldn’t put up with anyone, god or mortal, who sought to abuse that power or that title—but thankfully, I don’t have to.

Note: I do not speak for all of my community nor for Tamara Siuda herself; this blog is solely discussing my personal interpretations and opinions. As always, your mileage will vary. :)

If you enjoyed this post, please check out other takes on kingship by my fellow Round Table bloggers!

PBP Fridays: E is for Elation

When I first came across Kemeticism, it looked full of dry ceremonialism to me. I tiptoed around the boundaries of a ritual structure I didn’t understand, pulled from a culture I’d never been called to nor studied in any depth. I didn’t understand the salt, the sand, the cool water, the heavy emphasis on purity, or the importance of exacting speech.

I was a child of the mountains and sea, grown from black soil and torrential rains; my gods were distant and unknowable and wild. Hoofprints led me into tangled forests, and only luck preserved me against the fickle whim of the creatures and fey living there. I reveled in the blood-and-sweat existence of my body, of the natural world when I rolled in fields and rubbed up against craggy tree bark. I was a little bit Celtic and a lotta bit eclectic, and the thought of restraining that inner and outer wilderness made me balk.

I did not think I could find that kind of unabashed joy and freedom within the trappings of any ceremonial rite. My feral, embodied heart wanted no limitations, no enforced purity, no denial of the physical things I’d painstakingly learned could be sacred instead of shameful. So I compromised for my Lady’s sake and learned from a distance, reluctantly opening books that held little interest for me, where each turn of the page was like chewing dust.

Years later, I am Kemetic, and I still find my wildness outside of the rituals that I now understand and deeply appreciate. Where my untamed nature is still rooted in the world around me, now my civilized and genteel side has a home as well, and as I wrote once, both are necessary to my well-being.

I was wrong about one crucial, deal-breaking thing, back when I shied away from Kemeticism’s guidelines and restrictions. I had thought there was no freedom for joy.

But there is elation here. I never could have imagined how much, but some days, whether within ritual or outside of it, I tune in to the essence of my gods and simply thrum with joy. Elation is not a complicated emotion, nor is it a restrained one, yet within this revivalist faith and these nuanced structures, it billows outwards like a plume of incense smoke, the breath of life.

It feels like I focus mostly on the positive aspects of my spiritual life on this blog. This is both deliberate choice and coincidental; while some of my struggles are personal and private, in turn, many of the things that drive me to write are the joyous ones. Feeling communion with Netjer is one such thing, and it is not an impossible feat – it requires no particular ability to sense the gods, nor a flawless ritual, nor an extravagant altar, nor an active community, nor a sense of personal perfection or purity.

It is simply a connection from my heart to my god’s heart—and on this path of subtlety and effort, it makes all the difference to feel attuned and beloved.

This post brought to you by the Pagan Blog Project.

2013′s second E post was (My Experience of) Empathy.
2012′s second E post was Eating Your Heart.

jade for the dragon

My boss brought me back a solid metal dragon from Singapore, about six inches long and three tall. (Bonuses of working for a global travel company. :D) It is gorgeous, and I know very little about Chinese dragons, so I looked up appropriate offerings. Whether or not there’s a spirit associated with the statue, I felt the urge to give offerings as a token of respect and welcome—and being pagan, being polytheist, I tend to heed such urges.

After some cursory research, I collected seven Malaysian jade beads and three gold freshwater pearls (both numbers specifically chosen to be culturally-positive). Malaysia contributes quite a bit of culture to Singapore, as does China, so offering a Singapore dragon Malaysian jade seemed particularly fitting. :)

He’s so handsome:

PBP Fridays: E is for the Earth Father

Geb (left) and Heru (Horus, right)Hail to You, Geb, Earth Father!
Black as fertile soil,
the world is Your body
and the green growing things which sustain us
are Your gifts to all life.

Hail to You, Geb, Earth Father!
Husband of the Sky,
You reach ever upwards to Her
with Your mountain peaks jutting
into Her lowest whorls of clouds.

Hail to You, Geb, Earth Father!
Goose-crowned Great Cackler,
You laughed creation alive
and strewed Your joy into every living creature
that moves within Your embrace.

Hail to You, Geb, Earth Father!
First king of mankind,
You passed to us Your sovereignty
and all the weight and power of authority
so that Your seeds might bloom in Your image.

Hail to You, Geb, Earth Father!
Source of all offerings,
Your bounty surpasses all wealth,
flowering with richness and growth
as You bless mortals and gods alike.

Hail to You, Geb, Earth Father!

This post brought to you by the Pagan Blog Project.

2013′s first E post was Enoughness.
2012′s first E post was Extinct Totems.

that fabulous fiddle

Last weekend, I had the incredible pleasure of attending two small concerts by one of my all-time favorite musicians, Alexander James Adams. His music has, without exaggeration, changed my life.

So much love for him and his changeling predecessor, Heather Alexander.

If you’ve never heard of Alec or Heather, I invite you to give a listen; Heather has tons of albums and Alec has a handful, as well (navigate to various albums in the little sidebar on the right). Most of their music is pagan-flavored or fantasy-themed; there’s a sampling of filk, a bit of animalfolk, a hefty dose of Celtic mythology and fae, and overall an amazing depth of voice and lyric. These musicians are a large part of the reason I ever thought I could make music of my own, and their songs have been models for how one person really can fill the room with magic and sound.

If you have only time for one song each, then take these: Alec’s Creature of the Wood and Heather’s March of Cambreadth. (March of Cambreadth is more SCA than pagan/polytheist, but it’s arguably one of Heather’s best-known tunes, so it’s a great place to start! I’m also slightly more fond of Heather’s version of Creature of the Wood, but Alec most certainly does it justice in his way.)

So much love for these musicians and their work. I hope you enjoy the music!

PBP Fridays: D is for Doing the Work (Redux)

I’d like to elaborate on last week’s PBP post on finding delight while doing the Work, because I feel it’s worth taking the time. Please read with the understanding that everything here is an opinion, and your thoughts may differ from mine. Diversity is good. :)

One’s Work is fiercely, deeply personal. Last Friday, I gave the example of art and/or spirituality being the Work, but it can be anything. Animal rescue. Charity work. Political campaigning. Education. Reviving a dead language. Model vehicles. Fashion design. Microbrewing. Origami. Blacksmithing. Travel. Adopting a child. Computer engineering.

The Work does not have to be selfless to be vital to one’s happiness and fulfillment, though it often positively affects others to some extent. The Work does not have to be huge, thick with morals, and/or a lifelong project. It is simply the thing(s) that one feels one must do in order to be fully grounded in oneself and one’s perceived purpose(s).

Because it is so variable and so subjective, the Work is one’s own. There can be no comparison, no judgment, no social weight. The Work is the height of individuality—in doing it, the individual is the most them that they can be. We do not do our Work because we “should” or at the commands or demands of other people. We do the Work for ourselves, and for the sake of the Work.

The most important characteristic of the Work is its suitability to its person. I have an enormous respect for people engaged in hands-on charity work, and I highly value their contributions to our society and to the people they help, but charity is not my Work. If I volunteer at a soup kitchen, I am doing a good thing, but I must also do my Work if I am to feel well-balanced and soul-sated. The Work is not a replacement for good acts in the world, nor are good acts to be mistaken for a person’s particular Work.

I grew up in a culture in which I do not currently live, so I can say with moderate confidence that doing the Work is not really a consistent concept across geographic and economic regions. Being able to pursue one’s own deepest passions and interests is a privilege usually only found where time or money can be spared from the task of surviving each day. In the culture in which I was raised, doing work was simply getting a job done efficiently and well. I take pride and satisfaction in that, but it’s not the deep satiation that I get from doing my Work. It’s important to acknowledge the privilege of being able to find and do one’s Work; if you can, be grateful for the opportunity that so many lack.

Many say that it’s our duty to do our Work, be it artistic or spiritual or otherwise. While I hesitate to put the weight of such obligation on it, I understand the emotion behind the words: that those of us who can do the Work take advantage of our situation, because to waste such a gift belittles the opportunity that grants us an open door. But that is yet a social judgment, and I still can’t support it, so I’ll leave you with this:

If you know and can do your Work, you are kindred to everyone else who can and does, regardless of the specifics of the Work. Don’t sweat the small stuff; you are shoulder-to-shoulder with people performing their own brands of magic, and that is a precious thing.

This post brought to you by the Pagan Blog Project.

2013′s second D post was Darkness.
2012′s second D post was Deity.