#otherkin.net migration

My usual, gut-level, teeth-grinding reaction to certain referential allusions that occasionally come up during discussion is as follows:

[note: This article is in no way meant to debunk past life memories, so much as it is meant to address a potential problem with remembering and offer a sane and rational way of approaching and accepting the real stuff.]

Some of this is from the Torah, some from rabbinical commentary, some from oral tradition, and probably a number of inaccuracies caused by my fuzzy memory on the subject (PLEASE feel free to set me straight if you know this better than me). Please bear in mind that this is not necessarily my take on the whole thing, just the story as I recall it. Here's the gist:

Magpie's essay on the septagram is an incredible one. It was well thought out and researched. However, at her urging I decided to present another view of the septagram... this one intensely personal.

Forget Schoolhouse Rock: three isn't the magic number, seven is. Seven is one of the most widely recognized "lucky numbers", and comes into play with a fair amount of things, both magical and mundane... for example:

Full D. sylvanus taxonomy is as follows:
Species: sylvanus
Genus: Dannan
Family: Faeidae
Infraorder: Catarrhini
Order: Primates.

It's rather simple, actually. When the Crone is coming to fruition in the waning dark of the Moon, you must create a black waxen image of your computer with wick for lighting, or black candle if you're not artistic. Upon it with your Burin, which can be found at various stores throughout the Internet, inscribe these words, "I desire to leave this list list", along with the Tattwa for the Element of Fire, representing freedom, change and destruction , the Elder Futhark rune of Thurisaz, representing freedom in movement, the masculine in action and destruction of obstacles, and the Ogham symbol for Birch, representing new beginnings, purification and changes. You'll need a banishing incense of your choice and two lodestones. Cast circle, yadda, yadda, yadda, dress waxen computer image or candle and place on pentacle, light.

[Written by Tiernan and Robin. Taken from the TNO archives, Issue #1, October 1995. ]

1. Are people spooked when you walked up behind them and they never heard you coming?
2. You are always the first one to hear something in the distance (ie: aproaching car, person, storm...)
3. You can smell a troll for miles and miles and miles...
4. You couldn't care less about gun control as long as they don't outlaw bows.
5. You think "Lord what fools these mortals be" should be in Bartletts Quotes.
6. You are frequently offered 'Santa's Helper' jobs at Christmas without an interview.
7. Your best friends are nymphs, pixies, and fairies.
8. You think trees are a great place to live, and holes in the ground are for worms and hobbits.
9. Your friends cat, who hates EVERYONE including your friend, loves you.
10. You HATE ear jokes
11. You catch yourself referring to David Bowie as 'cousin'
12. The only iron you care to work with is the one that takes the wrinkles out of your clothes.
13. You can smell what kind of mood the people around you are in.
14. You HATE plastic.
15. You LOVE mushrooms.
16. You can be spun around at night with a blindfold on and you stop spinning pointing to true North every time.
17. You find yourself arguing that Vulcans and Romulans are your long lost cousins with a Trek fan.
18. Almost no-one understands your sense of humor
19. Trolls stress you out.
20. You have pet dragons.
21. You would rather listen to bird songs than the radio.
22. You can sleep on the floor, ground or a wood waterbed, but not a metal frame bed.
23. Orcs are the cousins you don't talk about.
24. You have a fascination with edged weapons.
25. Most of your clothing has ties and laces instead of buttons and zippers.

Back in the very late 70's and very early 80's, when I was first getting into the New Age thing, it seemed to me at least with regard to the people I came in contact with that the spiritualist/new age movement was about working toward enlightenment. Methods for doing that inner work became very popular, such as TM, yoga, Zen... at least in S. Cal where I grew up (and lived most of my life). The focus seemed to me to be very much on the fact that you had to find your own inner way, that there were tools to help you do that but they were intended to be just that: tools, not crutches.

The alwaysweres, the nevergones
We fix the broken toys
The cast-off fineries worn like jewels
The tossed-aways adorn our brows
You smile and laugh and pat our heads
And say that you are like us too
When you have time that is.
Want to, wish to, cannot yet
Fog on water, insubstantial
And we don't buy it anymore.
Your toy soldiers are dead to you
You killed them, not the world
Those stuffed animals won't speak to you
You refuse to hear them
And you cry, and say you wish to have back
All that you lost before
We don't buy it anymore.
When the world is dark and dreary
And the blandness overcomes
And the mundane crushes souls
And children cry when dreams are torn
And unicorns retreat away
And hidden from you are the Fey
You wring your hands again and say
If only I could dream again.
You killed them all, not the world
Your walls could easily unfurl
With just a word, but you stay silent
And we don't buy it anymore

This poem was written shortly after getting
back from a walk through the woods in Cary, NC, witnessing the
clearcutting and destruction, but also the new growth, the clean
air by the waters and a sense of those things just beyond sight.

The book of our solitary walkings
Draws nigh to a close...
And for ages we have walked alone:
Forgetful and longing in turn
For the days at hand, what was and yet will be.
As another walks to a circle by the fire
Another chapter closes
Another path comes full circle,
Andother solitary light burning bravely
Becomes one of a million stories
In a naked city of life and dream.
Can another lovely star
Join the all-star cast
Of a film that never ends?
Pick up a script and play one role...
Play it with all the depth and passion of a feature part
Without stealing the show?
We all think ourselves to be fine critics,
Learned and clever at discourse,
But if our essays teach us aught, it is this,
and we do well to listen:
Live life like Art
Breathe Art like Life
It is said that our life
is but the artful imitation of life,
And well we know that life imitates Art.
The treasure of a dream remembered
The shining center of an endless story
Becomes now a jewel in a crown of many jewels
A star in an endless sea of stars
A wave on an ocean of still Truth
One voice in a throng... or a chorus.
We have held the sparks that dared
Ever have we been the tinder that burned alone against the dark
To exhaust our selves, defiant to the last, burning against overwhelming forgetfulness.
Come together we have, to kindle a brighter fire.
Still, we must join to light a log of substance,
A flame that will endure through our lives to come
Until the light returns.
The oak that was we burn at Yule,
The tree that grew in times we knew
Will turn the Wheel again
But we cannot burn what we will not bear
What we fear to touch
Will only waste and rot...
Seasons change, trees die and are reborn...
In the wild places they hold the past for us...
And like the trees,
Born of freedom,
Our roots run deep
Lest we be washed away.
We are Faeries.
We are the wise folk,
The non-sense folk.
We are the free folk, ever changing.
We wear the green coats of ages past
We are Free... to remember.
Free enough to take our endless roles
In an eternal play.
And together we can bring a tear,
A sign, a gasp, a fright, a laugh,
To the heart of the Dream.
Gather around, ye Tybalt, Verrocchio, Hamlet, and Shylock,
Titania and Titus, Rosencrantz and Second Guard, Caesar and Soothsayer,
Falstaff and Rosalind and Porter and Herald,
Prospero, Juliet, Duncan, all...
The curtain's coming up.

A cool breeze blowing,
The snowflakes falling,
A sweet voice calling.
Joyous music plays,
Many happy faces,
Dancing with the fae.
Moving around the circle,
Shades of blue and purple,
Silken scarves move in the wind.
Laughing I join the others,
All my sisters and brothers,
Around the bonfire with love.
We may not all be similar,
But we are together,
Because of our fae blood.

I am a child of the storm
a spirit of darkness
a catalyst.
I live in the night
forgotten and betrayed by the day.
The moon is my only light
as I wander this world alone.
I am bound to my task
by vows as old as time.
I am a child of the night
ethereal incarnate as mundane,
I can only fight
and dance the winds
as the storm rises.
I am a child of power,
fire runs in my veins.
I am meant to be free
as wild as the elements,
unfettered by mortal values
by time.
I am a child,
the universe stands before me.
All knowledge,
all power,
all future is mine.
I am a child of possibility
all is mine.
I run to the storm.
I run to the night.
I run to the winds.
I am a child of darkness
and I am free.

When the Universe was young we were old.
Our home long ages gone, we lived among the stars.
We did not know fear, we did not know pain.
We simply were.
We sang as Gaia was born.
We gave her life.
She grew under our watchful eyes.
We knew joy.
She grew in beauty and swelled with life.
We cradled her in our arms as she gave birth.
We were joyful.
We sang her children lullabies.
We stood ready when they took those first fragile steps.
We knew joy.
Sadness came when Gaia's children forgot.
They abused their mother.
We knew sadness.
We came to her children, to protect and to guide.
The Elf, the Hobbit, the Fey, the Vampyre, the spirit.
Wiccan, wizard alike we took form.
We came to help and to give hope.
We were scorned, we were hated.
We knew pain.
We knew fear.
Together we hid, under rock, under ground.
In the sacred sanctuary of the trees.
Gaia mourned for her children, Gaia mourned for us.
We did not mourn.
Many aeons we waited, centuries untold, time has no meaning for us.
We will always be reborn.
The children are awakening.
They are remembering.
We come together, we take up the call.
Hark the call of the awakening.
Remember the ancient songs, take up the melody.
Help the children remember.
Children of the Stars, AWAKE!

Elves and Dragons
Celestials and Fae
Walk yet among Us
On the Earth Today
Something else I notice
with every passing year
more and more become awakened
And something seems quite clear
That something is approaching
a time for all us as kin
shall go hand and hand
And with Our Magicks Mend
The Earth and this Realm
will be conjoined with our Own
The Coming Of The Age
When Physically we'll Walk Home
Oh what a grand time it will be
when we're passing through the veil again Rejoice now in Unity
Now let's Begin
Too weave the threads of fate once more
and do the goddess' will
too spread the truth and magicks wide
So we can all begin too heal
That which has been long broken by man
and clear away the myths and lore
Tell her Children Of The Truths
And Unseal The Mystic's Door.

I am more than I seem.
To the eyes, a girl,
Small, a grin at her lips,
A flicker of playfulness in her eye.

A darkness falls
Across the lands,
The merry halls,
I clasp my hands
A light erupts,
A darkness falls
And it corrupts,
A darkness calls,
I make my light,
The blue shines out,
Prepares to fight
A darkness grows,
Light fades away,
Fire burning blue
Unto the fray,
I spread my wings,
Soar up on high,
A burning blue
Fighting the sky,
A darkness spreads
Around my soul,
The darkness spreads,
Evicts my soul.

The world becomes most magickal
like frost is dripping with etherical dew when I am walking along
enchanted forest paths with the likes of you
We belong within this realm
with horns and leaves in our hair
dancing, kissing, laughter ringing
walking in caves and The gnomes lair
Who will know
just who we'll meet
when we go a troopin' through?
I don't mind
For I am enchanted, glamoured
when by my side Is you.
I know with some odd disillusion
That I am dreaming and i hope I'll not wake
I wish too stay right where we are
making love in this tarn green lake
Don't you agree
do you want too stay
where faeries like us taunt you all the day?
Say you love us, make things merry
In The world of Faery.