The complete absence of T.'s chosen one hurts me in a strange way.
It hurts me as a person, because we were going down a very nice path, and obviously, at the very least, I like him. There was no time to fall in love, of course - but my feelings for him go beyond a crush, for example.
It hurts me as a soul because I feel I'm failing T. and L. by not being able to take the relationship with the one they both chose to be my family forward.
But... Yesterday, when I went to see my teacher, my leg started to bruise out of the blue, all day long. And another child bite appeared, on the same leg as the bite that became a scar last month, but on the front of the thigh this time.
Considering that these two things have only happened once in my life, when my uncle was fucking with me and redoing the spell whose purpose is to prevent me from enjoying my completeness as a woman, I decided to stop procrastinating and write down the list of ingredients in the ebó that Taurina received from Oxalá during the conch reading.
I'll list it in this post, so I feel more obliged to keep my word since it seems like I'm promising something to others (even if I'm not, at least it's worth it).
A situation in my life led me to reflect on who would be responsible if someone took a certain action after a reading from any oracle.
A few things were passed on to me by my master, although I haven't had many lessons with her yet: never talk about betrayal; don't identify those responsible for murders; warn the consultant not to take any action aimed at finding out more about the subject of the drawing. And I followed all these rules.
One of the waitresses at the café where I study every day asked me to see what had happened to her brother, who had been missing for two years. She (called S. here) had dreamt that he was dead and came to me for confirmation.
I confirmed it, said that the death took place in Rio de Janeiro, and that he was in a serious relationship at the time. The waitress asked me to tell her if he was single or not, as there was a possibility that he had left a child before he died, which I promptly realised was non-existent in the letters. Yes, the brother had died. He had died during a serious relationship, but there are no children from that relationship.
He had died on a trip to Rio de Janeiro, probably to seek a better life (this was told to me by the gypsy). I learnt more about who had ordered his murder and how he had died, and I realised that it was because he was involved in a dangerous life, which would bring harm to me and the deceased's family if I revealed it. The gypsy told me not to reveal it, and I didn't.
That happened a few days ago. Today, when I arrived at the café, one of the other girls told me that the waitress I did the reading for hasn't been to work since, and that she justifies her absences by what I revealed in the letters a few nights ago. Immediately, I felt a sense of guilt beyond belief.
I was told this information about the absence of the deceased's sister from her work twenty minutes ago. And as I write, I feel an immense and irrepressible urge to cry. I feel responsible.
The girls are having to deal with a reasonably full café because of the rainy days, with one less employee, and I feel guilty. It's my fault, isn't it? For revealing information that led to the behaviour of waitress S., who decided not to come to work anymore.
However, waitress F. told me that S. had learnt nothing more from my letters. I only confirmed what she already knew. From what I understood, waitress F. was telling me that I wasn't responsible, because I hadn't given her any new facts that she could focus on to justify her behaviour.
But I can't see it that way. And so I began to debate in my mind whose responsibility it is for actions taken in the face of a print run?
Do I bear responsibility for waitress S.'s continual absences from work, because the reason for her absences is information given to her by me? Or is it her responsibility for missing work? If she dies going after the information I didn't reveal, because I realised it would be dangerous, and I warned her to leave it alone, is it her responsibility for killing her, for the act itself; hers, for going after what she shouldn't have; or mine, for warning her to avoid such an action?
Uncle Ben was right. With great powers obviously come great responsibilities. Are my gift of clairvoyance and the others that make me the witch's soul that I am, blessings or curses in this case? Isn't the responsibility for this waitress's faults mine, because I'm the trigger? It could be, but doesn't she have her own brain to make her own decisions and attitudes?
Do I still feel like crying, feeling guilty? Absolutely. Whether the other girls blame me, I don't know. I have to be responsible for what I reveal, don't I? Wouldn't it be better if I just didn't open any more letters to anyone, even if they asked? Would that be a heretical attitude on my part? Am I denying gifts that are blessings instead of aptitudes that I see as curses at times like these?
Would it be better to have these gifts or to have them taken back by the Gods, since I apparently haven't been using them properly? What would be the right way, given that there are no manuals? Should I take the continual presence of these gifts within my reach as an approval from the deities of how I've been using them, considering that the gods show no mercy, least of all to mortals who use the gifts they've given incorrectly?
To conclude this text, I asked the waitress F. and the waitress I. if they blamed me for the actions taken by the waitress S., and they both said they did not.
"It's her actions, not yours. You're a nice customer, you make us laugh, you trust us, we trust you... There's no reason to hold you responsible for her behaviour when we know and have heard what you've told her and it's not the first time she's been like this. You were just the latest justification," said I., who isn't very talkative.
Still, the question remains. Whose great responsibilities stem from such great "powers" (being, in fact, the powers of the Gods and entities, we humans are only allowed access to them, not their "owners")?
In my opinion, the oracle therapist has a duty to translate what the spiritual plane has to say to those who can't instinctively interpret and translate the signs - it's another language, just like any other. A witch is a native speaker of such a language if she's a medium, while someone who wasn't born with access to the spirit world will have to make an active effort to become fluent. What about the consulter's responsibilities?
I've seen texts about the responsibility of oracles. The right of the consultant is to know the message that the spirit world has to give them. What about duties? What are the duties of a consultant in the face of a draught?
Maybe in a few months I'll have an answer to this within my own spiritual development.
Me queimei rezando; derrubei 7 livros no meu pé enquanto tentava colocá-los no armário; meu baralho ficou gosmento de caramelo porque tinha na mesa; tive que sair sem minhas alianças, pois era o dia de agradar a Juno; esqueci de colocar meu talismã da Ísis no meu bolso antes de sair; me mandaram parar de embaralhar no café dizendo que eu estava atrapalhando com o barulho das cartas; meu cartão não pegou para eu subir de novo; errei a maquiagem; minha lente rasgou no olho; escorreguei no banho; meu porta-velas de 7 dias quebrou na minha mão e uma ponta do vidro dele cortou meu dedão.
Com tudo isso, óbvio que minha fé vai oscilando. E tudo piora quando não consigo achar o ankh que a Senhora Ísis me mandou comprar. Comprei. Lembro de tê-lo recebido. E enfiei no cu.
Mais uma vez, brigo com a minha mãe por sentir que ela está me criticando demais, e mais uma vez, ela está coberta de razão. Mais uma vez, ela sabia que eu deveria ter falado menos. Ela me avisou. Ela me avisou para aprender a calar a boca. E eu não fiz. Mas ela me avisou. Ela me avisou para segurar a onda. Não segurei. E ela me avisou.
Que caralhos… Toda vez que a questiono, tudo vai pelos ares.
Cansei… vou só ficar em casa para o resto da vida, mesmo. Para quê ir para o café todo dia? Para fingir que é uma rotina? Não tenho trabalho, não consigo ganhar nem um centavo. Se ela me expulsar agora, não tenho literalmente nada que seja de fato meu, nem o cachorro, já que ela que trouxe para casa. Não tenho amigos, não tenho envolvimento amoroso/afetivo com ninguém, minha única família, e ainda assim bem titubeante, é minha mãe. Minha psicóloga só me ouve porque ela recebe para isso — perderia o apoio dela assim que não pagasse mais. Não tenho mais alegria fazendo nada.
De quê adianta ficar indo à mestre? Gasto só o tempo dela e o dinheiro da minha mãe com isso.
Na verdade, para quê caralho estou escrevendo aqui? De novo, fazendo algo inútil e fingindo ser importante.
Finjo que coisas são relevantes para não enxergar a verdadeira fracote de merda que eu sou. Chega. Cansei de fingir. É mais fácil aceitar que realmente sou uma garotinha mimada que finge que decide coisas da própria vida que, na verdade, são decididas pela mãe. Todo esse tempo e não saí do lugar.
Não tenho mais vontade de fazer nada. Nem de chorar. Eu só estou… anestesiada, vazia. Eu não tenho outro humor. Só finjo que sim. Mas, na verdade, sou uma carcaça não só vazia por dentro, mas podre por fora.
Não tem utilidade manter esse blog de porra nenhuma. Nem boa bruxa sou, nem boa oraculista. Nem devo me chamar dessas coisas, na verdade.
Sou só uma farsante de bruxa e uma farsante de oraculista. Finjo que estou vivendo, quando, na verdade, eu nem vida tenho.
I didn't even have time to finish the entry about my mum boycotting me before she did it again.
I really don't understand why she wants to screw me over and finish me off. It must make her feel very good about herself, it doesn't make sense to me that she has any motivation other than sadism. In the end, she chose my father, the guy she calls a monster but from whom she copies methods to bring me down and torture me psychologically.
But she won't make it.
I'd sent a message to say that, coincidentally or not, the guy my cards say is T.'s chosen one was (and is, until now, 6.38pm) sitting at the table literally opposite mine. I don't know why I told you. I don't know why I keep doing this.
K. warned me, my teacher warned me, and I myself know that I can't share such experiences, especially if they involve spirituality, with my mum. Why did I mention that he's in front of me?
What I've done is put my own arse on the line, since she called me and shouted at me so much that I got dizzy, and I know that I have the saddest, most dejected expression after the call ended. I'm trying to get the sadness out of my eyes because I can feel it; but I also feel that I'm not succeeding.
I know that before I was confident and now I'm defeated. What a bollocks.
At the moment, my mum is to Hera as I am to Hephaestus. Add to that Sisyphus who keeps trying to roll the stone to the top of the hill, I'm like a rare evolution of some pokémon, a fuck-up that Mum is throwing out of what should be her home at the same time as I'm uselessly rolling the stone for eternity to get to what was supposed to be my home, but isn't.
I don't have a home. I need a flat for myself, something like that, because the last thing I wanted for myself was to identify 100% with the lyrics of Listen again. Ass.
It's very sad that I can't share my spiritual evolutions with my mum. She has always been my role model as a spiritual person, an oracle maker, an esotericist in general. And I, like a huge idiot, continued to develop my spirituality.
K. and my teacher had already warned me that my mum would try to demean me on a material, sentimental and spiritual level.
But how do I hold my damn tongue that can't shut up? Sometimes I wish my Cancer would overpower my Gemini and the exact opposite happens.
My shoulders warmed with energy as I meditated and Isis allowed me to channel Your presence. And I thought it would be nice to tell my mum about it, because I don't know how to shut up. Isis told me that my mum isn't going to change, and that when I need a mother, I should turn to the Great Mother - she didn't say if it was to pray to her or if any face of the Goddess works for that. Isis also told me to light a silver candle under the moon when my faith wavers.
I'm dying to continue writing my meditation, but I'm sure I opened portals while I was writing, because I got hot all over. Then I stopped.
I think I should write here too. I was
May I be protected in the name of Earth, Air, Fire, Water and the Goddess who rules all that exists. May it be so and it shall be so.
And it's not mine faith, specifically. Ever since I can remember, I've known and considered the presence of deities from all pantheons to be one of the pillars of my existence. And that's why I say I'm in the worst phase of my life.
Two days ago, this pillar of mine collapsed. I don't feel any spiritual planes connected to me, even though the Tarot says that my mediumship is open - so much so that I can no longer interpret the cards, be they the Gypsy Deck, Lenormand, the Orixás, Tarot, or the Witch's Runes, the I-Ching, even the pendulum. I usually ask Hecate, Apollo and Fortuna for their blessings in divination, but when I ask all three, I can't interpret any cards. I only succeeded when I asked only the Tarot, without involving any deity. Which is unusual for me.
I always thought that my interpretation of the oracles was linked to my deep and varied studies of them, reading various books from various currents and assimilating them thanks to my giftedness. However, I discovered yesterday that my studies don't allow me to interpret the cards - I think my studies are a needle: they pierce all the cards; and my spirituality, the thread of that needle, in other words, what gives meaning and sense to the readings. And I only realised this because I have no spirituality at the moment and, just now, I can no longer put together the meanings of card A and card B to complete a reading.
I'm worried. I know that Hecate (if she exists, of course) sees that I have a blockage, and I know that she won't punish me for any heretical behaviour at the moment, just like the other Gods - if I know that someone has closed my road to the spirit world, they know too, even much more than I do.
I've sent a message to the master, because I'm desperate... But there are still five days until the appointed date. 5 days that I'm going to pray just out of conscience, and write letters to my boys for the same reason.
My disbelief at the moment is so great that I think this reincarnation thing is rubbish and that I can get in touch with "my husband" and "my son" from my past life and that there really is a son linked to me for more than 350 years, because we would be Celts.
I don't understand anything any more. I'm very confused. I've asked the Goddess for guidance, but is it possible to receive such guidance as I'm currently an atheist?
Fui na mestre como ela mesma tinha marcado. Na penha, sozinha, mas foi tudo bem durante o trajeto.
Cheguei lá às 14h, e o plano era ficar até 22hs, mas eu tomei a decisão de levantar e ir embora por mim mesma quando as coisas começaram a ir ladeira abaixo.
Não que qualquer dia eu vá contar isso à minha mãe, considerando que qualquer coisa que saia do roteiro que ela quer para a minha vida em qualquer aspecto ela arranca, não importando o quanto vá doer já que já tem raízes em mim.
(Incrível, minha mãe foi no café no qual eu estava escrevendo e veio só para brigar. Interrompeu meu estudo e estragou meu dia, como ela de fato gosta de fazer. Nem consegui meditar… Justo hoje que eu queria perguntar à Deusa sobre ontem…)
Enfim… Eu sei que carrego um peso gigantesco por causa da hereditariedade do meu pai – ser descendente de família de coronel do Nordeste inclui o sangue preto africano e indígena brasileiro que corre em minhas veias através de estupros e agressões. E sei disso. E sei que tenho o dever (e também a vontade) de seguir minha ancestralidade. De garantir que o sofrimento daquelas que deram suas vidas e passaram por muitas dores e injustiças… de garantir que nada tenha sido em vão.
A única outra pessoa que eu já vi beber daquele jeito que a mestre bebeu é o meu pai e o pai dele. O dia foi passando, e ela foi ficando estranha. Comentários sexuais sobre mim, querendo ficar me apertando, pegando, essas coisas.
Não ouviu mais mantra nenhum, passou direto pro sertanejo. Levantei e fui embora.
Agora… ela tinha prometido que não aconteceria de novo já que isso aconteceu exatamente assim quando nos conhecemos. E me pergunto se devo confiar nela para continuar o aprendizado. Já quebrou minha confiança e voltou atrás em sua palavra uma vez. Eu queria ter conseguido perguntar para a Deusa o que devo fazer, se devo confiar na mestre novamente…
Meu filho chama ela de madrinha quando fala comigo e com ela… Mas não consigo confiar os cuidados do meu bem mais precioso a uma pessoa desse jeito, esteja eu viva ou não.
Credo, como eu sumi. Deveria ter mais compromisso comigo mesma sobre escrever aqui, né?
Depois do descarrego, percebi que meus mamilos invertidos não estavam tão invertidos — que eu talvez não odeie crianças por vontade própria.
Ligando vários pontos ao longo desses 22 dias, me toquei de que havia um feitiço para eu não ser mulher. Azar do meu tio e da esposa dele, já que menstruei pela primeira vez aos 9 anos, e o primeiro feitiço foi feito em 2010.
Sei agora que sou celta, cigana e bruxa, e despertei todo esse potencial do acúmulo das minhas vidas passadas, considerando que fui bruxa em absolutamente todas elas. Sei que o T. é minha alma gêmea, e que infelizmente ele está desencarnado. Sei que o nosso filho, L., um lindo menino loiro com olhos verdes, reencarnou comigo e será meu primeiro filho.
Há de se questionar se estou acreditando demais na palavra da minha mestre espiritual, tendo em vista a falta de provas de que tudo que ela falou é verdade. Entretanto, eu ser perseguida por crianças chamadas L., loiras dos olhos verdes; minha mãe também ser perseguida por crianças com essas mesmas características; eu ver meu filho andando comigo por aí com a mão no meu ombro; e o flash que tive do T. me abraçando por trás com as mãos na minha barriga grávida antes do pai dele nos assassinar, a ele, a mim e ao nosso bebê que nem nascera ainda…
Entendo que meu tio nesta vida é meu sogro — aquele que matou a minha família inteira e eu mesma na vida passada — e obviamente tenho medo do que ele pode fazer por dinheiro e avareza. Mas é meu dever e meu destino ser a melhor mãe que o L. deve ter, pois ele merece; aguentar 23 anos ouvindo que odeio crianças e não queria filhos, e mesmo assim ficar ao meu lado esse tempo todo e não desistir de mim… esse moleque merece tudo de bom que o universo tem a oferecer, e garantirei que assim seja. Meu tio não encostará um dedo sequer no meu bebê. Já basta ter feito feitiço para eu não engravidar e deixar de ser mulher espiritualmente, abrindo mão do dom maior da Grande Mãe, o dom de gerar vida em seu próprio corpo.
Não tenho como agradecer à Hécate por toda a proteção que ela vem me fornecendo ao longo desta vida. Não sei o que seria de mim a essa altura se ela não tivesse segurado a maioria dos ataques que recebi — as coisas já foram dignas do Campo de Asfódelos, imagina sem a proteção da Deusa.
Bom, hora de começar minha rotina para ir à casa da minha mestre celebrar o Sagrado Feminino.
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