This is me…


…staring into shadows, looking where I know I shouldn’t and letting forbidden knowledge seep into my bones. It’s a quiet kind of spirituality, rooted in the Earth and bonded with Death. I make no claims to fancy titles and have no pretty sounding official name for what I do every day. It’s just My Way. And I realize that while I walk my magic alone, I manage to find and touch the ones that really need me. Do they know I need them too? What use is all the beauty found in the other world if you don’t have someone to share it with? If you want to know me, then you should know that this is how I live my life every day. I peer into the shadows, the darkness, and the places I should not, and then I share the beauty I find with you.

When I was four years old, I lost someone very close to me. Someone who, to this day, I still wish was here. My father’s brother, my Uncle K. He died saving my fathers life, in a rather tragic farming accident of all freaking things. We were very close him and I… I can still remember what the world looked like from his shoulders 🙂

His death was hard. But, his funeral… well, I was far too young to deal with what happened on the day of his funeral. I was a very sad little girl… but it was not just my own sadness I was feeling. Somewhere along that day (that very, VERY long day) I had started to soak up the sadness and panic of those around me, feeling things and knowing things that were far too much for someone at that age to feel. I know I will never forget the sheer, gripping fear grabbing at my throat as I started drowning in other peoples sorrow though.

Nor will I forget seeing the man who made the fear go away.

At the grave side service, when I was very certain I was going to die of panic, I saw a man standing alone among the head stones, not so very far away. He was tall, slightly pale, and had dark wavy hair that just reached his shoulders. His eyes were steel gray, and he wore a dark colored sweater that seemed to be far too soft to be real. His eyes caught mine in my panic, and a kind of calm set over me. I could hear him softly whispering above the cries and words of the congregation around me.

“Give it to him little one. He can still hear you.”

I can imagine my four-year-old brow knotting up when I whispered back “Give him what!?”

A smile…

A smile that was cold and frightening and somehow comforting all at once.

“I’ll show you.”

And he did. I can only describe the feeling as being used as a funnel. An emotional funnel that had one end in this world, and the other in the afterlife. But I *felt* every single thing as it passed through me. Pain, fear, anguish, doubt, guilt, anger, heartbreak… It became mine for a moment before it went through.

And thus, I met Thanatos for the first time.

I was 15 the first time I looked my own Beloved Death full in the face. For two weeks I had a Doctors words ringing in my ears. “It might be cancer.” I had been in pain for weeks. Moving hurt.

I remember just not wanting to think about it, not have to deal with it, and not having to be afraid. But somewhere was also a voice, very tiny at the time, that was telling me to come to terms, to think about it, feel it and own up to my fear.

I walked up the side of the rocky, cacti strewn valley that was home until I reached the top, and then I sat.

I remember sitting for a very long time.

The fear and the horror of it all washed over me time and time again. I could die. At 15. Having never realized a single dream, having never tasted a single thing I yearned for.

And I remember a sudden breeze… it pulled my hair away from my face like a lover would… a touch that was more than just the wind.

And Thanatos loomed over me again at that moment… Not fearful, not frightening, but reality-shattering REAL. I could feel the afterlife and Him waiting for me, patient and loving darkness who would take me into his arms some day.

“Not yet.” He whispered and was gone as quickly as he came, leaving a sobbing, stained little girl in his wake.

That moment changed everything, colored everything that came after. At the very core of myself, I understood that me and Death would always dance this little dance of close calls and near death and quiet-scary moments far more often than would ever be comfortable.

Years later, after being a mother and lover and a woman who very much felt like a lost soul, I faced Thanatos full in the face yet again. This time, physical death was used as Initiation. This time, I was unsure if I would be allowed to come back.

“My death came in threes.”

First came the death of my ego. The loss of the face I knew… the loss of my beauty, and the start of my pain. Nine Days. Three times Three. The Irony was not lost to me.

Second came the death of my strength. For the first time ever I failed and faltered. For the first time ever, I lost the physical power that had always been mine. For the fist time ever, I turned to weakness and loathing. I allowed a monster to take root of me, a monster that only pretended to help the pain. To slay the monster I had to kill off my anger at my loss.

Thirdly came the moment when my body, ravaged by infection and medication and pain, just…. stopped. My heart, caught up in a seizure, allowed me to be present for my death.

I was pulled apart, three by three, watching her reconfigure me.

The fire in me now is of Her… I cannot ever be the same.

Reborn, so brought to Life. Not much left of the woman before… Do I mourn her beauty and light heart? A little perhaps.

Loss is always loss after all.

But I grow tired of that morning.

So now, I shall walk among the starlight as I am meant to be… And I will make no more apologies for not being *her* any longer. Mourn her if you feel you must, but know that the woman who stands before you now is far stronger, and far more willing to live than the other ever was. ”

People sometimes ask me if Im afraid of dying.

I always say no.

I know who is coming for me, whose arms I will find myself in. In a way, I yearn for that… but I also know I have other obligations (most notably, to his Beloved Mother Nox) that will keep me for as long as needed. And while I may be unafraid of Thanatos, I still have many a thing to live for. And that is a much sweeter thing to be alive for.

Dialogs of a Pagan Heritic Vol. 3

So let us get this out of the way once and for all.

Again, I have heard the quietly whispered question… “Are you… are you a *gasp* vampire? Or a Pagan?!?!?” because of who some of my “contacts” are…. I had literally no idea I was so fucking fascinating… And Im going to be honest I have an answer to that, but a whole bunch of people are going to be pissed off at it. (Then again, Im not known for giving a fuck about what other people think, so…)

… and I am very likely going to make myself slightly unpopular with this post, and that’s ok. This subject gives me the ranty feels for many, MANY reasons, but the main reason why it makes me want to rip hair out is that it is always presented from the same two sides, and neither side want’s to take a single second to stop and evaluate some very serious (speaking from a spiritual standpoint) shit.

Disclaimer: I have poked about on both sides of this fence. I have ties to people within the VC that I hold very dear for very personal reasons, and I also have close ties to some of the pagans who decry their illegitimacy the loudest. It puts me in a very awkward position, but also one of really great perspective.

Thing #1: I will be the very first to agree that a lot of people involved within the Vampire Community, and the Vampire Spiritual Movement are off their fucking rocker, and obsessed with fantasy. Everyone within that community knows this as well. Actually, I think they organized themselves to cater to particular flavors of this obsession, and that’s actually a GOOD thing, as it makes traversing that terrain sooo much easier. HOWEVER, there are ALSO some people involved who are actually amazeballs with certain practices, and certain techniques that simply do not exist outside of the vampire community. These concepts are of value to certain people who, like me, often times find modern pagan perspectives on things like magic and energy, and having a predatory nature basically fucking useless, and unaddressed in any way other than “NO! BAD! MUST NOT!” And make no mistake… I *do* have a very predatory nature in a number of areas. It is as deeply tucked into who I am as is my love for poetry, and my adoration of coffee. I actually got a good handle on my own nature by using techniques I picked up from the VC. Before I learned these things, I was not in a good place, or a good person to be around. Basically, there IS value there, although it is buried under a lot of crap. I can say it very likely saved me from going nutters at a time when going nutters was going to land my ass in jail. The pagan community as a whole has NOTHING to address the things I was going through with. No tools. No advice. No non-judgmental perspectives to gain anything from.

Thing#2: Much of the criticism from the Generic Pagan community comes from a place of “I DO NOT want to be associated with THOSE TYPES.”, while said decriers then light purple sparkly candles to Mother Morgan, and insist that the rule of three is real because Charmed said so. It breaks the Fourth Wall for them, and so they reject it loudly. That is not to say there are not extremely valid criticisms out there (Like some of the VCs ignoring and even harvesting abusive sexual relationships among adults and minors, the very real, very HIGH chance of running into a delusional nutter within it, and the fact that motherfucking bloodborne diseases are THING to be extremely mindful about.) Basically… a lot of these conversations are NOT being had in good faith on either side. The vampire community is a nice wiping post for the Generic Pagan Community, because “Hay! At least we aren’t those guys, right?” and the vampire community has loooots of people who LOVE to play the misunderstood misanthrope card, and will do so at every opportunity, loudly, and with little more thought than you or I would give to farting on a public bus.

Thing #3: As someone who has an admitted predatory nature, and someone who also understand and takes responsibility for this, it has to be said that many of the Modern Pagan Spiritual Constructs have… very, very little to offer me. (Unless I wanna be shamed, then SCORE BABY!) You will never, ever hear me say “Im a PsiVamp” or that “I have a Vampire Soul” or any of those labels that get thrown about, but that is because I have come to a much deeper understanding of who I am than most people ever get to have. I have a much deeper understanding of the processes that are triggering this seemingly crazy “Vampire stuff” and… well, it’s an easy word to pin a lot of this stuff on, even if it is not very exacting. I would say that a more accurate term would be that there is a shifting happening, where more people are being brought into contact with the more “Infernal” strains of spirits and gods, and having no real idea what the fuck is up, they locate the VC, and shit goes downhill from there because as I have said before, the VC is full of “Teh Stupid.”

But the “Things” these people are experiencing is not as cut and dry as either side is making it out to be. And that is… an extremely frustrating thing to be in the middle of while people argue over your head about things neither one of them have *actually* gone through.

I have Sisters of many colors, faiths… cultures.

Daughters I will never meet, just taking first steps, learning to dance and love.

Grandmothers with hard secrets… they never talked about “those things” back then.

Pain that could fill whole Nations.

Love that could overflow oceans.

At the end of the day, and at the end of my days, I don’t care about what I will be remembered for.

I care about what I have done… For those Sisters, Daughters, Mothers.

What matters are the steps that I take, the arms I will break, the world I have no problems re-wilding to make it safe for you.

If I stand before bullets, those doing the firing should worry for THEIR lives while they attack the Womb of Man. Because together we have the power to rebirth EVERYTHING.

And that is why they fear.


Oracle of Nox
Bespoken 1-1-2017
Of Lady Night and for her Children in the following year

“The punishment of the soul has passed
But one still must show the scars

The Kiss of Damnation
And no sorrow at Death

To march alone in eternity,
more difficulty you cannot find

You have lost Her in a way
Left the shelter, cried the cause

You will carry Blood and Darkness

As we march alone in eternity
Or a heart as a living stone?
Searching, and finding the fortune of Fate

Driven out
Does it taste bitter, the quality of the Dark?

Scratching words upon paper
Words from the mist of Dreams
Turning to deep Nightmares

Of slaughter and labor”


48, 46, 65, 76, 91, 60, 75, 7, 50,

Dialogues of a Pagan Heretic. Vol. 2

“Why do you want to work The Darkness in the first place?”

A lot of people shove their pain and traumas into the darkness… if you can’t see it, it doesn’t exist right? So much emphasis is put onto the TRAPPINGS of happiness in our society that people fail to realize that the trappings are not what happiness is made of… we are taught to desensitize ourselves, ignore our feelings if they are “Bad”… so many things get shoved into dark corners, and stay there so long they begin to look like monsters. There is very REAL power in reclaiming all of yourself… and that process is gonna involve a few trips into your own darkness.

Again, it’s all about taking the time to really think these things through. I spend actual *days* in full process thinking/writing/working these things out. As for balance? I don’t think I have it. I have carefully crafted my life to be built *around* my affection for Night and Darkness. (You think the 12 hour night shifts were an accident?) Being present for my children’s lives is the only thing really holding me to ANY semblance of social normality. My balance really does not look like balance from the outside… But I really do function better this way. Happiness for me is a Desert Night with stars and silence.

Trance work. Sleep Magic. Staying up all night until Dawn ruins all the things. Blood-binding-trance-sigil-creation… Oh yea, and sometimes sex. I guess I should also mention that I spend a lot of time doing devotional writing for M’Lady Night, and that I often scribe them on scrolls of Persephone paper, recite them once, then bury them outside under Her gaze. Because *Poet*.

“How do bad habits affect the spirit? Does something like addiction affect the Will and its Power?”

After my first surgery in 2012, and the year of fuckery that followed, I found myself addicted to a certain pain killer that the Dr.s had been feeding to me like candy. I would say it had devastating impact on my ability to function in a spiritually healthy way at the time.

What other people have to do to get by with their pain is absolutely NONE of my business, and you won’t see me making judgments about it or them either. My own issues with pain are just recently getting resolved in ways that allow me to actually function anywhere near where I was before I had surgery. I still have pain. I still have bleeding bones inside my face, and splinters of bone working themselves out of my jaw, but at least now have a migraine medicine that actually *works*. When I was taking *un-named, very popular painkiller* I was NOT me… I was hostile and aggressive, and I was not in any amount of control of my… well, my more dangerous nature. I detoxed *myself* out of stubbornness and with the help of my BF and my Mom. I thought I was going to die that entire month, but you know what? If I had NOT had the meds during that year, I might have very well offed myself due to just too much pain too much of the time. Hell, I came close to it even with the meds. No, you absolutely do NOT have to feel like you should have to make excuses for managing your pain. Not now or ever.

Being addicted to pain killers was *for me* a really shitty time, that in no way should ever have to be taken that Pain Killers=BAD! No. NONONO! It effected me negatively because 1: I really, REALLY need to have my emotions and instincts IN FUCKING HAND at all times. That’s 100% a *me* problem though. and 2: While I was aggressive and stoned as balls, I did not have the tools needed to mourn my face, and deal with the shit tons of weird stuff that the surgeries poured into my life. And after a year, when all that finally hit me after I detoxed, I think it hit me twice as hard. It’s still hard. And yes, there are times (mostly when Im kicked back into the hospital) when they shoot me with *all the drugs* and usually Im in so much pain that I don’t care. As long as its kept short term, Im good. (Yay, stubborn streak!)

Hells Queen rises…


I feel her approach, the thunderous hooves of the Steeds of He Who Rules the Dead reverberating through my bones. My veins simmer beneath my skin, and all around me the dead wake to Her call.

The Season of the Dead is crowned upon the dead flowers of Springs awakening… and the doomladen sorrows of the kingdoms of man.

The deepest part of me screams with power, a Beast awakened from Summers hateful gaze.

And so my season begins as the light slants just so… It’s golden edges bloodied with the Shadows of Death.

“What Do You See?”



What do you see when you look inside me?
The hunger, the darkness, or what I can’t be?

Do you see lonely when you see these eyes?
Or simply a soul that just can’t compromise?

What do you know about horror and pain?
Do you see the beauty, or simply the stain?

Can you feel the longing as you pull the knife?
Do you dream of the lover that spills out your life?

Did you know that the devils that live inside me
Can live in the shadows of all who can see?

So what do you know about all that I am?
Shall I walk alone with the devils and damned?

What do you see when you look inside me?
Do you see the beauty… or dread that I breed?