seeking solitude

TAROT CHEAT SHEET #1

MAJOR ARCANA

0. THE FOOL | blank slate, beginning, innocence
®* | reckless, negligence, unaware of consequences
1. THE MAGICIAN | willpower, manifestation of desires
® | trickery, illusions, lies, out of touch w/ truth
2. THE HIGH PRIESTESS | intuition, inner voice
® | repressed/unheard inner voice
3. THE EMPRESS | mother figure, nurture, earth/nature
® | smothering, dependence, needing to let go
4. THE EMPEROR | authority, structure, control, father figure
® | tyranny, too much control
5. THE HIEROPHANT | tradition, conformity, morality
® | rebellion, subversiveness, divergence
6. THE LOVERS | union, duality, choice, harmony
® | disharmony, loss of balance
7. THE CHARIOT | self-control & willpower leading to victory
® | loss of control, lack of direction
8. STRENGTH | bravery, inner understanding that radiates power
® | self-doubt, insecurity, weakness
9. THE HERMIT | solitude, contemplation, seeking inner truth
® | loneliness, isolation, disconnect w/ fellow humans
10. WHEEL OF FORTUNE | change, cycles, inevitability
® | bad luck, helplessness, series of bad events
11. JUSTICE | cause & effect, karmic retribution
® | unpunished misbehavior, unfair, turning a blind eye
12. THE HANGED MAN | willing sacrifice, release of control
® | stalling, needless sacrifice, waiting to no avail
13. DEATH | end, cyclical closure, metamorphosis
® | fear of change, stagnation, limbo, holding on
14. TEMPERANCE | moderation, balance, middle path
® | extremes, excess, lack of balance
15. THE DEVIL | materialism, destructive patterns, excess
® | freedom, release, restoring control
16. THE TOWER | sudden disaster, upheaval, collapse
® | delaying inevitable disaster, avoiding suffering that could lead to growth
17. THE STAR | hope, faith, guidance
® | faithlessness, lack of guidance, negative thoughts
18. THE MOON | unconscious, intuition, illusions, dreams
® | confusion, misinterpretation
19. THE SUN | success, clarity, positivity, conscious
® | negativity, depression, sadness, pessimism
20. JUDGEMENT | reckoning, honest evaluation of oneself
® | lack of self-awareness, self-loathing
21. THE WORLD | completion, wholeness, fulfillment
® | incompletion, no closure, nearing end of journey but something is missing

*® = reverse card meaning*® = reverse card meaning

Tarot Cheat Sheet #1 - Major Arcana

Tarot Cheat Sheet #2 - Wands

Tarot Cheat Sheet #3 - Cups

Tarot Cheat Sheet #4 - Swords

Tarot Cheat Sheet #5 - Pentacles

Sea Witchery: a Brief Overview

Originally posted by mermaids-luv

At the request of so many followers, I have decided to mock up a little bit of information on Sea Magick and Sea Witchery.  This is just a brief overview to give you some information when wanting to research or begin working with the ocean, storms, the tides, and the many creatures associated with the sea. 

However, I will caution you that the many sea creatures (especially the Merfolk) are not very forgiving creatures, thus they can be pretty tough to handle for beginner, baby witches.  It takes an experience sea hag to get them to cooperate properly, so keep this in mind when studying them.

Once again, this is a brief overview and introduction to my craft and path.  if you have any questions, you can direct them to me via PM or ASK.

Let’s get started!

WHAT IS A SEA WITCH?

Traditionally, sea witches are witches who appear among sailors or others involved in the seafaring trade. Sea witches use witchcraft related to the moon, tides, and the weather, and are believed to have complete control over the seas. Many sailors fell prey to the sea witches curse on ships and were finally delivered to the one who rules all.  In some folklore, sea witches are described as phantoms, ghosts,or in the form of a mermaid. These creatures would then have the power to control the fates of ships and seamen.

As the name implies, sea witches are believed to be able to control many aspects of nature relating to water, most commonly the ocean or sea. However, in more modern times, sea witches can also practice witchcraft on or near any source of water: lakes, rivers, bath tubs, or even simply a bowl of salt water.

In addition to their powers over water, sea witches could often control the wind. A common feature of many tales was a rope tied into three knots, which witches often sold to sailors to aid them on a voyage. Pulling the first knot could yield a gentle, southeasterly wind, while pulling two could generate a strong northerly wind.

Sea witches often improvise on what they have, rather than making purchases from a store or from another person. Common tools include clam, scallop, or oyster shells in place of bowls or cauldrons. Other items include seaweed, fishing net, shells, sea grass, driftwood, pieces of sea glass, and even sand.

Other types of titles they use are: sirens, water witches, storm witches, and sea hags.

DO SEA WITCHES HAVE CERTAIN PERSONALITY TRAITS?

Eh, there isn’t really a specific type of person the sea calls to, however I have met many sea witches that would be described as walking contradictions.  Much like the sea, we can be quite flexible, but also forceful.  Moods tend to fluctuate with the tides and lunar cycle.  Hags both enjoy and love music and poetry; are quite expressive with their emotions, but also don’t easily award entry into their hearts; and can easily win the attention of a crowd, but then seek solitude in the comfort of their own homes.  You would be hard-pressed to find a stagnant sea witch–they’ll always be on the move, searching and discovering.  However, be warned: if you fall in love with one you must understand that a sea hag’s heart belongs to the Sea first and foremost, forever and always, and it calls to them over the span of lifetimes.

WHERE DOES THEIR POWER COME FROM?

For the most part, sea witches draw their power directly from the source: the Ocean.  You’ll find that many of them, even landlocked sea hags, have trinkets from the shore and enjoy baths, storms, and the moonlight.  Of course, there are many different kinds of sea witches all over the world and it really just depends on what seafaring folk culture they subscribe to that determines their power source.

DO SEA WITCHES HAVE SPECIFIC DEITIES THEY WORSHIP?

I am not even lying–there are HUNDREDS upon HUNDREDS of water and sea deities that sea witches call upon for aid and worship.  Probably the most popular would be Poseidon, Neptune, Lir, Gong-Gong, Hapi, Sobek,  Agwé, Aegaeon, Delphin, the Gorgons, Samundra, Pariacaca, Watatsumi, Rongomai, Njord, Nix, and even Davey Jones.

One of the beauties of being a sea witch is that you can call on many ancient and powerful deities to aid you in your craft.  However, I do advise that you make sure that these deities do not come from a culture/religion/belief system that is closed.  You can check out a full list of water/sea/storm deities here.

WHAT ARE SOME TOOLS SEA WITCHES USE?

*TAKES A DEEP BREATH*

Water (salt, fresh, or storm), sand, sea shells and cockles, sea glass, driftwood, ship wood, compasses, maps, mirrors, bowls and chalices, sea weed, sea grass, fish and fish bones, coral, telescopes, sand dollars, pearls, bath salts/bombs/goodies, sea salt, linen, umbrellas and mops, windchimes, ropes, weather vanes, and blood are just some of the few tools we use in our practice.

TELL US ABOUT MERMAIDS!

The Mer or Merfolk are probably one of the more popular topics when it comes to sea witchery.  I get questions all the time like “DO YOU TALK TO MERMAIDS?” or “HOW CAN I GET A MERMAID TO BEFRIEND ME?” or “AREN’T MERMAIDS JUST THE COOLEST?”

The Merfolk are an integral part of sea witch culture, but they aren’t the end all be all when it comes to water spirits/fae/demons/entities.  There are so many to work with and all have interesting backstories.  But let’s talk about the Merfolk for a moment…

Depending to what you school you subscribe to, the Merfolk (also known as mermaids) could be fae, demon, or simply water spirits.  Some believe that  the Merfolk are a species of kithain (also known as changeling or fae.) Ancient and unknowable, the Merfolk pose something of a problem to both fae and human alike. The arrogance of the mer is tempered only by their truly alien natures.  The Merfolk claim that they are the sole legacy of the Tuatha De Danann, the oldest fae on Earth, dreamed long before any human ever set foot on land. When curious people ask how this could be, the merfolk are disconcertingly vague and ambiguous.

As I have stated before on the blog, the Merfolk are certainly an odd lot. The product of a totally alien mindset, the mer are simultaneously deadly, serious and playful, highly ritualized and completely free spirited, repressed and yet libidinous as a drunken prom date. The first thing one will notice about a mer is his incredible arrogance. Of course, as far as they are concerned, they have every right to be arrogant. After all, in their minds, they do rule the world.

Other mythologies tell us that mermaids are the bane of seamen.  These half-fish, half-women lured countless sailors to their deaths. Breathtakingly beautiful humans from their torso-upwards, their lower bodies where those of fish, complete with scales. Men find their songs irresistible and follow them willingly into the sea. Mermaids can be caught and held in exchange for the wishes they grant. The males of the species, Mermen, are regarded as vicious creatures who raised storms for the purpose of sinking men’s ships.  Occasionally they are successfully courted by human men. The offspring of such pairings are often granted great powers in healing by their mothers.

In short, mermaids are extremely beautiful, temperamental, powerful, and dangerous.  They are not to be confused with Sirens, either, and find contempt at the very accusation.  I will probably go into more detail about Merfolk magic in a different post.

WHAT ARE OTHER WATER SPIRITS THAT WE CAN WORK WITH?

Again, like the deities, there are so many different kinds of water spirits and this topic in of itself could be an entire article.  So, here is a brief list and some traits about my favorites…

SIRENS

In Greek mythology, the Sirens (Greek singular: Σειρήν Seirēn; Greek plural: Σειρῆνες Seirēnes) were dangerous creatures, who lured nearby sailors with their enchanting music and voices to shipwreck on the rocky coast of their island. Roman poets placed them on some small islands called Sirenum scopuli. In some later, rationalized traditions, the literal geography of the “flowery” island of Anthemoessa was somewhere tucked in a cape, with rocky shores and cliffsides.

Sirens were believed to combine women and birds in various ways. In early Greek art, Sirens were represented as birds with large women’s heads, bird feathers and scaly feet. Later, they were represented as female figures with the legs of birds, with or without wings, playing a variety of musical instruments, especially harps.

UNDINES

These are the elemental spirits of water. Their magic centers upon this element, whose course and function they can control. Undines exist within the water itself and cannot be seen with normal human vision. Their homes are typically within the coral caves in lakes or upon the banks of rivers, though smaller undines may choose to live under lily pads. Their appearance is similar to human beings in most cases, with the exception of those living in smaller streams or ponds. Undine clothing is shimmery, reflecting all the colors of water though green is typically the predominant color.Every body of water is home to undines, from ocean waves, to rocky pools, to marshlands, to rivers, to lakes and ponds. Even waterfalls and fountains have an undine living in their midst.

SELKIES

The shapeshifting selkies, who are also known as silkies or roane (Gaelic for seal), occupy the seas surrounding the Orkney and Shetland isles. The exact nature of their undersea world is uncertain, though some believe it to be encased in giant air bubbles. Their true forms are those of faeries or humans, though they take the form of large seals when traveling the through the oceans. In particular: great seals and grey seals are said to take human forms. Older tales tell that selkies are only able to take on human forms on certain nights of the year, such as Midsummer’s Eve or All Hallows.

Occasionally they encounter humankind, sometimes becoming their mates. A human male may take a selkie female as his wife if he finds her seal skin on the beach and hides it from her. In the end she always recovers the skin and returns to the sea, though she may return occasionally to watch over her human family from the safety of the waves.

A human woman may bear the child of a selkie male if she weeps seven tears or seven drops of blood in the nighttime sea. Such relationships are rarely lasting. Seven years hence, the selkie would return for his child, offering the mother a fee for nursing her own babe.

BEANSIDHE/BANSHEE

One of the most dreaded and best known of the Irish faeries is the Banshee, properly named the Beansidhe literally, “woman fairy.” The Irish have many names for her (perhaps they feared invocation of her true name may invoke her presence?) They included: Washer of the Shrouds, Washer at the Banks, Washer at the Ford and the Little Washer of Sorrow. The Scottish called her Cointeach, literally “one who keens.” To the cornish she was Cyhiraeth and to the Welsh either Cyoerraeth or Gwrach y Rhibyn, which translates as “Hag of the Dribble” (to the Welsh she sometimes appear as a male). In Brittany her name is Eur-Cunnere Noe.

The Beansidhe is an extremely beautiful faery, possessing long, flowing hair, red eyes (due to continuous weeping) and light complexions. They typically donn green dresses with gray cloaks. Their wailing foretells of a death nearby, though it never causes such a death (which is why they are wrongly feared.) 

As her other names might suggest, she frequently appears as a washerwoman at the banks of streams. In these cases, she is called the Bean Nighe (pronounced “ben-neeyah”). The clothing she washed takes different forms depending upon the legend. Sometimes it is burial shrouds, others it is the bloodstained clothing of those who will soon die. This particular version of the Bean Sidhe is Scottish in origin and unlike the Irish version, she is extremely ugly, sometimes described as having a single nostril, one large buck tooth, webbed feet and extremely long breasts, which she must throw over her shoulders to prevent them getting in the way of her washing . Her long stringy hair is partially covered with a hood and a white gown or shroud is her main wardrobe. The skin of the Beansidhe is often wet and slimy as if she had just been pulled from a moss covered lake. They are rumored to be the ghosts of women who died in childbirth and will continue to wash until the day they should have died. The keening music of Irish wakes, called caoine, is said to have been derived from the wails of the Beansidhe.

WHAT IS THE MOST IMPORTANT LESSON TO TAKE AWAY FROM THIS?

The Sea giveth and the Sea taketh away.  The sea is both mother and reaper, passionate and cold, serene and turbulent, loving and cruel, generous and vicious.  And if you meet a sea witch, you’ll know this to be true:

Neither chains of steel, nor chains of love, can keep her from the Sea.

How to Master a Stellium

The key to master a stellium is to over-correct until you’re comfortable with expressing traits opposite of what comes to you naturally. 

If you’re terrified of being alone, you should spend as much time by yourself as possible. If you find it natural to put yourself first, you should try prioritizing other people as much as possible. If you hate leaving your house, you really should get out more. 

Think of a scale weighted heavily on one side. You have to consciously, painstakingly add mass to the other end- hypothetical mass equivalent to that of celestial bodies- to find some semblance of balance. 

1st house: focus on other people, develop relationships, practice selflessness and empathy, look at the world from someone else’s eyes, look at other people as you would look at yourself, try hiding your emotions and intentions

2nd house: dig deeper, practice spirituality, detach from the world and your possessions as much as possible, rebel against tradition, practice generosity, don’t indulge vanity

3rd house: hold your tongue, listen, speak as little as possible, treat your siblings well, objectively revise your writing, don’t place excessive importance on grades

4th house: leave home, break from your family, detach from your emotions, acknowledge and dismiss your paranoid insecurities, be as direct as possible

5th house: shine the spotlight on other people, do community service and volunteer work, find a group of friends, avoid casual dating/sex, manage your ego and desire for attention

6th house: focus on the spiritual and subconscious, break your routine, prioritize your soul over your body, break rules, try drugs, avoid judging people, be more impulsive, get your nerves under control

7th house: seek solitude, be as independent as possible, put yourself first, practice selfishness, ignore others’ opinions, embrace your flaws, befriend your enemies

8th house: approach life practically, practice fiscal responsibility, avoid passion/jealousy, control obsessive tendencies, be careful when dealing with the occult/supernatural

9th house: spend more time at home, avoid drinking, gambling, and superficial friendships, try to be more responsible, practice thinking logically instead of philosophically, be careful when dealing with religion

10th house: develop hobbies and friendships, spend more time with family, stop caring so much about your reputation, aim to please yourself and do what you want rather than trying to prove something to the world

11th house: develop individuality, don’t let tie your identity to groups, think for yourself, don’t do things just because “it’s the norm,” spend less time on social media, stop trying so hard to fit in

12th house: stay grounded, do menial chores, take care of your body, make a conscious effort to eat healthy, shower daily, and exercise, infuse logical observation with emotional intuition 

The only drawback about being down here in the rolling hills of neverland living out my days like I’m the level-headed female lead in a victorian period drama seeking solitude on the rainy moor (truly, my ideal lifestyle) is not having Osiris with me. I drew this little sketch of him to fill the temporary void. 
(graphite and charcoal pencil on toned tan sketch paper)

Self-Care Guide & Helpful Tips for INTJ “The Mastermind”

Functions: Ni-Te-Fi-Se

Strengths

  • Quick, imaginative and strategic mind
  • High self-confidence
  • Independent & decisive
  • Hard-working & determined
  • Open-minded
  • Jack-of-all-Trades

Weaknesses

  • Arrogant
  • Judgmental
  • Overly analytical
  • Loathe highly structured environments
  • Clueless in romance

Turn-on = Uniqueness

Turn-off = Small-mindedness

What stresses INTJ out

  • Being in an environment that doesn’t appreciate their skills, visions, or ideas.
  • Not enough alone time. Too much extraverting.
  • Too much noise or sensory input.
  • Working with those they see as lazy, incompetent, or ignorant.
  • Having to pay attention to too many details at once.
  • Being in unfamiliar environments.
  • Having their well-settled plans disrupted.
  • Too much focus on the here-and-now.
  • Not being able to use their intuition to envision the future.

How to help an INTJ experiencing stress

  • Give them space, and time alone to process their thoughts and feelings.
  • Reduce sensory stimulation like noise, TV, radio, or bright lights.
  • Let them express their thoughts and feelings without judgment. Understand that they may be irrational.
  • Don’t give them advice. This will only make them feel worse.
  • Give them a break from responsibilities.
  • Encourage them to get enough sleep at night.
  • Help them lighten their schedule, or cancel unnecessary activities.
  • After some time of solitude, encourage them to get a change of scenery by going outdoors.


How INTJ handle Grief

  • Need to be left alone to grieve
  • Writing and drawing are good for processing the pain

How INTJ handle Guilt

  • Accept their mistakes
  • Learn and improve for the future

What INTJ are like when Sad

  • Apathetic towards things they usually love
  • Seek solitude in their room

What INTJ need after a Bad Day

  • A good book to read and the day to themselves to re-charge

What INTJ do when Angry

  • Decides the person they’re mad at is incompetent and ices them out.

What INTJ Should do Instead

  • Let the other person know that they’ve upset them but that they’d like to hear their side of the situation and to determine a solution to the conflict.

What INTJ Struggle with

  • Talking to people they dislike

What INTJ are Hard on themselves for…

  • Not feeling like they’ve done enough
  • Need for being up-to-date with EVERYTHING

INTJ’s Purpose in Life is

  • Be objective in a sea of subjectivity

What INTJ need to know

  • Not everything in this world has a logical answer. It is okay to accept emotion without logic.

What INTJ should never forget

  • You help us understand things that we otherwise could not and we appreciate you for your unique intellect. We also appreciate your helpful advice, which seems to lend a     unique perspective.

Sometimes things are great! Sometimes… they’re really, really not. This is my personal plan for fixing everything when I don’t know what to do, and I thought other people might find it helpful. If you identify with this sentiment, but don’t think this is the right way for you to work on the problems you’re facing, that’s totally fine, and sometimes these aren’t things to work through by yourself.

This is what works for me, but really consider what your goals are and consider this as less of a how-to and more of possible framework to figure out where you want to go. A lot of this also refers to managing things within my apartment that aren’t super applicable if you aren’t the one responsible for your own groceries say. Use what’s useful and skip what’s not. You’ve got this.

Step One: Breathe, baby. This probably feels awful, whatever’s going on. Icky maybe. And that’s something that should change, but before the visible problems can shift, take a look at how you’re taking care of yourself right now. This step is the reset button - just a beginner’s step in areas that are central and maybe stressing you out. Stop the cycle of whatever was throwing you off.

I like to start with the executive function stuff. There might be a lot you feel like you have a lot to do - it’s been a while since things have been good about notes on all those readings, right? But unless there’s something absolutely 100% immediate and pressing, this first:

  • Drink some water. Wash your water bottle or a cup you like to drink from. Just one dish. The rest of them can wait just a little bit longer. Keep remembering to drink water. You’ll feel better.
  • How’s your room? Can you do some laundry? Get some things in the trash? Make your bed? Start with a single task that will get some things off the floor, but doesn’t feel scary. Leave the rest of it. You can fix it later.
  • When was the last time you ate something? Has it been a while? If there’s something at home, good. Eat that. If there isn’t, go pick something up from somewhere you feel safe. Worry about vegetables later. Eat anything right now.
  • Find somewhere you feel comfortable. Pick something acheivable. Do that thing. Whatever you’re ready for. Nothing scary. Nothing heavy. Spend some doing enough work that you feel like you’re being productive again; like you’ve finished something because you have! Then come back. Do you feel better?

In the interest of space, the rest is under the cut. :)

Keep reading

Writing Loners

(Want more? Check out my Writing tag!)

Final Fantasy XIV is an online video game that I occasionally dabble in that recently announced that players will be able to play as the “Samurai” class. 

As Final Fantasy XIV is home to a fairly congested roleplaying community, I fully predict such samurai characters to fully engage in hamfisted concepts like bushido, honour, and “the way of the sword” with about as much subtlety as a fifty-ton bomb demolishing a high rise apartment complex in a fiery apocalypse, complete with screaming children and unfortunate escapees leaping from windows.

In equal measure, I fully expect such characters to be “loners with dark pasts”, “seeking atonement”, or desiring solitude for completely arbitrary and laughable reasons.

Now perhaps this is just my cynicism, but I’ve seen many a trainwreck wherein a character is less “lone noble ronin wandering the country and rescuing peasants” and more “sword-wielding sociopath inexplicably killing random people who have very justified intentions”.

This post was written to try to stem that tide.

Keep reading

To Love Somebody

Characters: CastielXReader, ft. Sam and Dean Winchester

Word Count: 3242

A/N: Castiel wants to demonstrate his love for the reader but doesn’t know how. Cue up the most adorable, awkward angel ever as he tries and repeatedly fails to show you his love. Inspired by Castiel’s utterly innocent Websummons app search in episode 12.19 of “how to fix a truck” (no spoilers) – because, you know, the internet has all the answers to life’s complex problems! Pure unadulterated Fluffy Fluff (yes, with capital Fs ‘cause Fluff is capital).


Castiel meandered aimlessly into the library, deep in contemplation, stopped up short by the edge of the glassy smooth mahogany table where Sam and Dean sat steeped in a heap of dusty lore books and Men of Letters file boxes researching the latest case.

The angel had been off his game for days – quieter than usual, less helpful, more vague, seeking solitude in the lesser used domains of the bunker, thoughts wandering again and again to the image of you he held in his mind’s eye. He’d always felt more protective toward you than to other humans, even the Winchesters - your injuries and anguish wounding him in a manner he did not understand. And like the sun, you were the brightest object in any room. He found himself perpetually staring at you, into you - the radiant warmth of your soul pleasantly tugging against his celestial being as he fought the urge to gravitate closer, his grace sparking, flaring, and blazing through his vessel like a wildfire in your company. In your absence, he still sensed and craved this all-consuming burn – the very thought of you enough to stir a tingle of heat and longing within his vessel.

Three days ago, Castiel decided what he was feeling for you could be nothing short of love itself. And now that he had named it, he was bursting at the seams to tell you. Yet his burgeoning love remained tempered with fear you would not return his feelings. He could not confess it outright, could not compromise your friendship - he would rather remain your friend than risk pushing you out of reach and be damned to exist alone in the dark forever remembering what it was like to be bathed in the reflective light of your soul.

Keep reading

So You Want to Write an Autistic Character Part I: Sensory Integration Dysfunction and What to Do About It

Writing autistic characters is hard.  It’s a little like walking through a house with a wet cloth tied around your face.  You might feel the walls with your hands, and find the edges of stairs and carpets with your toes, and thus manage to make it out with all things intact; but only the owner of the house can see where you’re going, and only they can tell you where to put your feet.  In making your character autistic, you are writing about an experience you will never fully share.

Should that scare you?  Put you off from writing about your autistic character?  Heck no!  But, like anything else worth doing, it will take time, effort and a fair bit of perspective-tweaking.  So to get you started, I want to talk about something that will have a huge impact on the way your character experiences the world – something many people overlook when writing autistic characters.  That thing is called sensory integration dysfunction (SID) or sensory processing disorder (SPD).

Here’s the thing, neurotypical writers: you will never know what SID feels like.  But it’ll be a lot easier to navigate that house if you know the layout first, so let me break it down for you.

What It Is:  The best way I can describe SID is through analogy.  The way I was told, every human being is a cup into which sensory information pours: all the sights, sounds, tastes, touches and smells we experience from day to day.  For a neurotypical person, that cup is exactly the right size to hold all the information that flows in.  For those of us with SID, it’s not that easy.  Under-stimulated people have cups that are too big, and tend to seek out stimulation in order to keep their cups full.  Over-stimulated people have cups that are too small, and our cups are constantly overflowing.  Most people with SID are a little of both, as we may seek out certain types of stimulation (certain textures or sounds) and avoid others. 

My cup, as it happens, is a little too small.  I am constantly shying away from sensations that bother me: the sound of cardboard scraping, the light pressure of people’s hands touching me, the chaotic sounds of a loud and busy environment.  I seek solitude, not always because I am introverted, but because I simply cannot stand the textures and sounds and touches of other people.  Yet in some ways my cup is never full enough – I am always seeking heavy pressure, tight hugs, and things that I can wrap up in, such as weighted blankets.

As a writer, you will have to know your character well enough to tell what types of stimulation they seek out and which they shun, as it will affect the way they move through and perceive their world.  Which brings me to my next point:

Not Everyone Is Bothered By The Same Things.  Humans have more than one sense, and for those of us with sensory integration dysfunction, certain senses can weigh more heavily than others.  My “worst” senses in terms of SID are my senses of touch and hearing.  I can’t stand light touch, such as people tapping my shoulder, loose clothes fluttering on my skin, or dangling earrings moving around in my ears; I hate whining, scraping noises such as packing peanuts, cardboard boxes opening, or the sound of my teeth biting into an apple.  I can pick up on noises that many people don’t, and even regular noises are twice as loud and painful to me as they are to most.  For example: at the Albertson’s near my house, there’s a Starbucks outlet with different lighting than the rest of the store and I can hear the electric hum whenever I get close.  I always stay away from the counter because the humming sound of the lights pierces my ears.  My parents can never hear it.

But I am not the same as your character, who is not the same as the next person with autism, who is not the same as your autistic friend, who is not the same as the author of that autobiography on Asperger’s Syndrome you read while researching.  Different things bother us, and in different ways.  I have never been able to describe the sensation I get when people touch me, except that it’s a tingling, vulnerable feeling that I react to the same way I react to pain: with cringes, flinching and turning away.  I’ve never felt it as actual pain, but I tell people it’s like pain because it’s easier to explain.  Meanwhile, a friend of mine who is autistic does feel light pressure as pain, something I’d not considered was possible until very recently.  The realm of SID is vast and complex, and even autistic people need to do their research on other autistic people.  There is no universal “sensory experience” we all share, and the last thing we want to do is make our autistic characters all feel the same things.

So How Do I Put It In Writing?  There are thousands of ways your character’s sensory issues can peek through in your writing; to find them, you have to get down on the ground with your character and let them point the world out to you.  A wool blanket isn’t just a wool blanket – it’s an unshaved beard that can feel either soft or scratchy, comfortable or disgusting.  A sidewalk isn’t just a sidewalk – it’s a gritty, rocky surface that demands to have fingers run over it.  A creaky car door isn’t just a creaky car door – it’s a sharp needle digging into your ear.  Define for yourself the highlights of what bothers your character – is it smell?  Sound?  Touch?  All or none of the above? – and then let them tour you around.

In my current novel project, my protagonist has undiagnosed Asperger’s Syndrome and Sensory Integration Dysfunction, and those traits constantly influence her mood and her state of being.  In chapter one, she gets out of a van after carpooling over 300 miles with a rowdy, high-energy family.  In writing that scene, I knew she would be more than just exhausted – her nerves would be fried.  So I picked out a handful of sensory “focal points” from her environment and exaggerated them.  My character’s “major” senses are smell and touch, so I added some scratchy blankets to the van and made the family she hitchhiked with smokers.  By the time she stepped off the bus at her destination, with all that cigarette smoke clinging to her clothes and the memory of those scratchy blankets on her skin, she was on the brink of going into sensory overload – in fact, she had a meltdown in the very next scene and hid in a public bathroom stall for two hours.  Sensory meltdowns are common for those with SID on our bad days and are a big aspect of life, so I’ll be doing a full article on writing about them later this week.

In the end, you will never know exactly how your autistic character feels with sensory integration dysfunction.  But with research and a little perspective-tweaking, you can get readers – and yourself – to see, hear, feel, taste, and smell the world from your character’s point of view.  Research and observation are your best friends here.  Don’t be afraid to exaggerate the world around you, because for many of us with SID, that’s what the world is like.

Keep your eyes peeled for Part 2, which will cover sensory overload, meltdowns, and stimming – and, of course, how best to utilize them in writing your autistic character.  As always, good luck and keep writing!

 – Senga

REDIAL

TODODEKU WEEK: DAY 6

MEMORIES

“Everybody has a secret world inside of them… Not just one world. Hundreds of them. Thousands, maybe.”

AO3

SEQUEL TO “BROKEN TELEPHONE


Twenty years.

It had been twenty years since Todoroki Shouto died.

It had been twenty years since Izuku received Shouto’s last phone call, on a pretty spring day where the sun was gleaming and the sky was brilliant, where Shouto had left the house, claiming he would go out on a run and come back home as soon as possible.

It had been twenty years since Shouto went missing for several hours, much longer than “a little late”, and, concerned, Izuku had prowled the streets, trying to find where his fiancé had gone.

It had been twenty years since he’d tapped into location services, knowing Shouto’s phone would have still been on, and had been confused when it lead him to the isolated part of the city, within a long-abandoned construction site.

It had been twenty years since Izuku found Shouto’s body, pale and covered in blood, a metal beam sticking out of his stomach and a cracked, bloody phone by his head.

It had been twenty years since Izuku held Shouto’s corpse in his arms, sobbing, crying, and cursing, holding Shouto’s cold left hand tightly and desperately clutching onto the silver, bloody engagement ring he had given to Shouto so long ago.

It had been twenty years since Izuku lost his world, and, consequentially, lost himself.

As of this year, Izuku reached forty-two years and ten months, the title of Number One Hero under his belt while being renown as one of the most self-destructive heroes. He was a workaholic, constantly taking down as many villains as possible per day, and rarely took time off for himself. His old teachers, classmates, and mother had constantly expressed concern for his mental state, begging for Izuku to take more time off for himself—to see a therapist and do something other than fight and fight and fight

And today… today is Shouto’s twentieth death anniversary.

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A Simple Teaching

‘It is hard to be born as a human being and hard to live the life of one. It is even harder to hear the path and harder still to awake, to rise, and to follow.

Yet the teaching is simple: “Cease to do evil, learn to do good. And purify your mind.

Hurt none by word or deed. Be moderate in your eating. Live in inner solitude. And seek the deepest consciousness.”

This is the teaching.’

- Dhammapada, in The Buddha Speaks, A book of guidance from the Buddhist scriptures edited by Anne Bancroft.

Castiel Imagine

Imagine: Trying to comfort Castiel after he has a fight with Dean.

(not my GIF)

You emerged from your room into an unusual sort of silence. You knew the boys were back from their latest adventure because Sam’s text announcing there was hot pizza in the kitchen had just woken you from a nap. Yet, somehow the bunker still seemed too quiet. Grabbing your fluffy robe from the door to stave off the chilly atmosphere, you ambled onward to the kitchen.

“Hey Y/N,” Sam greeted you with a grin over his laptop screen, “sorry I woke you.” He motioned at his hair with a wince, signaling you to check your own.

Feeling your hair, you discovered an epic case of bed head and smiled gratefully, “Don’t be, thanks.” Idly combing your fingers through your locks to tame the mess, your eyes fell upon Dean. He sat rigidly in the chair, arms crossed, brooding over half-eaten slice of pizza and bottle of beer. You glanced around the periphery of the small room – finding no sign of the blue-eyed angel you’d grown especially fond of this last year of calling the bunker home, innocently asking, “Where’s Cas?”

Sam grimaced at your words, bracing his shoulders as if for impact.

Dean’s green eyes narrowed darkly. He shrugged apathetically, voice edged in fresh anger, “Wherever the hell he wants to be, probably figuring out new ways to jam the letter I into team.”

A frown crept over your lips. A brief glance at Sam confirmed the situation – the angel and the elder Winchester were bickering, again. You now understood the strange feeling in the air. You pointed at the floor, mouthing the words to Sam, “Is Cas here?”

Sam nodded.

You exhaled a sigh of relief - the last time Cas had disappeared for weeks, failing to respond to your calls to check in. Only when you sent out a desperate prayer asking for help on a hunt, explaining Sam and Dean were otherwise indisposed and you were alone, did he make contact. He helped you with that case, and stayed by your side for a string of others. Afterward he tagged along back to the bunker with you, and things between he and Dean had been copacetic for a time.

Knowing exactly where you would find an angel seeking solitude in the bunker, you spun on your heel and marched down the hall. Descending into the storage room slash dungeon, you found him sitting on the floor, slumped against the wall, blue eyes sullen.

He didn’t stir at your presence.

You stepped closer, fuzzy-socked toes nudging the hem of his trench coat, “May I?”

His chin bobbed almost imperceptibly.

You dropped to the floor beside him, taking a deep breath and scooting nearer until your shoulder barely touched his. You sat in shared silence, knowing no words could fix what he was going through – it was between him and Dean. But you weren’t there to talk about it.

At first, the angel didn’t understand why you picked up his hand.

Slowly turning it over in yours, you delicately traced the rough-hewn lines of his palm, pausing to study the smallness of your own hand in comparison. Your heart ticked faster, emboldened by the sensation of his warm skin against your own.

He observed your actions with a casual indifference.

When he didn’t pull away, you interlaced your fingers through his, drawing his hand to your lap and clasping his palm tight. You stared hopefully at the line of his jaw, his expression remaining unreadable.

Bit by bit, his vessel responded to the comforting gesture, tenseness easing from his muscles, glimmering blue eyes flashing curiously over your intertwined hands. Gradually, his focus shifted to peer searchingly into your eyes.

You met his questioning gaze. Smiling reassuringly, you reached your free hand out to brush a dark curl behind his ear, your fingers curling to caress his stubbly cheek, “You are not alone, Castiel.”

His eyes welled at your simple sentiment, heart soaring with the novelty of a new emotion. He squeezed your hand back, a small smile stirring in his solemn features, the light returning to his eyes. For all the concepts which confounded the fallen angel, one notion blazed with sudden clarity – love.

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Consider Me In Stillness

The first hazy days that Damen couldn’t recall well…

(Set Post-Kings Rising, after Damen’s ‘flesh wound’ lol. POV alternates between Damen and Laurent after every ‘+’ starting and ending with Damen’s.)


Consciousness came and went.

Mostly the latter. It was highly inconvenient.

Vision, when he possessed it, was blurry, fleeting splotches of haloed light and nothing more. His hearing was muffled, as if everyone speaking stood on the opposite side of a thick barricade between Damen and awakening.

The rest was filled with blackness, pain in his abdomen that oscillated between throbbing and searing, unrelenting dizziness.

Laurent had mentioned there was a lot of blood.

+

Laurent stood covered in the blood of Damianos of Akielos.

It would taste a lie to suggest he had never envisioned it, never longed to watch the life drain from him by his own hand, at a time and place not so far removed, in fact. Now, and forevermore, the concept was abhorrent, sickening. To lose him, Laurent carefully acknowledged, would be his ultimate undoing, a blow from which he would not recover.

The repetition was compartmentalized, yet ceaseless.

He must live. He must live. He must live.

There were matters more pressing than those of his heart, ones that deserved the full force of his focus. He saw to them methodically, though the thought remained constant and driving, a background noise to which he operated.

Clear the way for Paschal. He must live.

Secure Ios. He must live.

Ready for resistance. He must live.

He must live.

Damianos of Akielos must live.

+

Keep reading

Realm — Part 2

Part 1

MASTERLIST

TAKING REQUESTS


Summary: You have been allowed to stay at the Stark Tower, but the team has some questions about your alien origin in return. You feel it would only be unfair to hide your true form for any longer.

Warnings: None.

Words: 1 696

A/N: This is really just a filler but I wanted to post it! Gonna post a few more parts of this before I round it up. Hope you guys like her true form!

(Idk why I’m pointing this out, but I know the GIF isn’t 100% suitable for this part but it’s 100% super cool so I’m using it)

Originally posted by science


She opened her eyes slowly, gaze landing on the soft clouds of crystallized rain that caught the purple light of a potassium salt infused comet passing by. Her body was weightless, her every move slow and graceful. She reveled in the peacefulness of the moment. She focused the very core of her strength on soaking in the energy that flowed around her, to recharge in a far more spiritual and voluntary way than a necessary one. Just like those of earth meditate to calming music to find tranquility, she did the same, but let her mind leave her body and seek solitude in the Galaxy.

“Hello?” Her turquoise glowing eyes reopened in her present state of being, seeing Scott wave his hand in front of her with Tony cautiously standing a few feet behind him in the room she had kindly been given.

“Hello.” She repeated, still in her meditating position with her legs crossed and hands resting on her knees. She was levitating in the middle of the room and was at eye height with Scott despite being in a sitting posture.

Scott smiled tightly and cleared his throat as he became more awkward for each second of silence that passed. “So? What you up to?”

“Meditating.” She answered and without her head ever moving, she unfolded her legs and placed her feet down on the floor, eyes reverting to the natural color of her human form.

“That didn’t seem like normal meditation to me.” Tony admitted, looking her up and down like he was waiting for something to happen. “I mean, you always see people floating around in movies when they meditate, but not in real.”

“You’ve seen a lot of things that should have been part of a movie and not reality though, haven’t you?” She questioned with a slight smile, making Tony do the same as he realized it was very true.

“I usually project my body when I meditate.” She began to explain. “I find it easier to achieve complete harmony within places that your building does not suffice. I mean nothing personal, of course.”

“Project your body? Project it to where?” Scott lowered his eyebrows over his widely opened eyes.

“This time? To the outer reaches of what you on earth has named Messier 82.”

Tony blinked a few times. He had only followed Scott down to get Y/N and bring her up to the lounge where the rest where. He hadn’t expected to have his mind completely blown by information of the bizarre fashion that it tended to be around Y/N.

“You were in a galaxy that is roughly twelve million light years away?” He asked but raised his both hands up after. “You know what? I don’t want to know. We just came here to get you. The others are waiting upstairs and we all have some questions-”

Tony’s voice faded out as a vague mist of yellow erupted in the air and they stood in the lounge with the others before he even realized. He thought it would have been easier to process as she had teleported them from Russia to New York the day before, but it wasn’t.

“Alright then…” He said calmly and walked over to the couches for a seat, feeling almost nauseous.

“I was just going to say that it took a while for you to get here.” Steve confessed, standing behind the sofa which Peter and Natasha shared.

“Yeah, well she was meditating twelve million light years away, so…” Scott sought out a free seat and sat down beside Thor with a thud, feeling a little sick himself.

No one on the team was planning on asking more about the matter. They already had a dozens questions for her and they had to settle at some point, at least for that moment.

“You had questions?” She wondered, looking in between everyone. “I’ll be more than happy to answer them as a token of my appreciation for being allowed to stay here through the night.”

“We’ve just never met anyone so… Complex, before. It would be nice if we could just get a handful of answers.” Bruce said in a careful voice, afraid that she would misunderstand him in some way.

“Of course.”

“I want to know about your true form.” Thor spoke up, recalling the little she had explained when they were still in Russia. “You said you adapted it to Earth?”

She nodded. “I do. Like I said yesterday, it is a lot more difficult to blend in with society as myself. Whenever I visit earth I take on the form as Y/N.”

“What’s your real name?” Rhodes became curious.

She smiled, looking down at the floor for a moment before glancing back up. “As a matter of fact, I was never given a name. I was orphaned at a young age and taken to the temple where I was trained to protect the universe. There I was simply called Apprentice when I was still young and Master after my training was complete.”

“What’s your true form then?” Clint steered back to Thor’s question. “Maybe it’s personal, I don’t know, but I don’t know how I feel about seeing a girl like you and knowing there’s someone completely else under the surface…”

It was a reasonable point. She understood Clint completely and could tell the others shared his opinion. It would only be fair if she listened to their silent pleads and showed them who she was.

“Even though it may not look like me, or like Y/N, I still want you to remember that it’s only a matter of physical change.” She attempted to make them understand. “It is still me in the sense of mind and spirit.”

“Yeah? Bruce-y overs here doesn’t really seem like his usual self when the Hulk comes out.” Tony nudged his head at Bruce who in his turn remained silent.

“There is a lot more that changes with Dr. Banner than there is with me-” The room lit up brightly in yellow to the point where it was blinding before dimming down. “-I assure you.”

The team stared without remorse at the alien being suddenly standing in front of them.

Her skin was soft blue and gray, freckle like spots of shimmering silver subtly reaching down the top of her arms and across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. From out of her ribs and underneath her arms came two more limbs, all of her four hands having four fingers instead of five. Her eyes were pitch black and would have seemed like two holes hadn’t they reflected her surroundings in their glossed surface. Her hair had become the same color as her skin only a few shades darker and grown to reach her hips. She had grown almost two heads in height as well, surpassing everyone in the room.

She was dressed in the same clothing she had arrived in during the mission in Russia. The platinum bracers which had multiplied in number, her black suit and hooded mantel, but the blue detailing on her suit had vanished. There were only vague outlines of them visible but they were also black and barely detectable. Those who noticed they were missing tried to ignore it considering how there was so many more bizarre things to focus on.

“I-” Bucky was surprisingly going to say something, but the words left him. He could see the familiar facial features between Y/N and her true form and it rendered him utterly speechless. That someone could appear so human by a mere illusion and hide such an extremely different reality was equally as astonishing as it was eye-opening. Even after she had teleported fourteen people along with an entire aircraft for hundreds upon hundreds of miles and all of the other supernatural things she had shown and done, she clearly had more up her sleeve, and Bucky doubted that showing her true self was even close to the final thing of what she could do. Like she had said; alternating reality, that is truly a field where the possibilities are endless.

“I am the offspring of two, extraterrestrial, races. Think of the acceptance of interracial mating on Earth and then picture the furthest thing away from that as your minds allow… That’s how interracial mating is seen where I’m from. The majority of the universe, actually. My parents were hunted and killed for just that. I would also have been killed had it not been for the Temple saving me.”

“I’m sorry.” Wanda suddenly whimpered as a tear fell from her reddened eyes, surprising everyone. They all felt pity for Y/N, but Wanda had been the only one who had seen it. She had seen the murder of Y/N’s mother and father as clear as day from the angle of a crib and through the eyes of Y/N as a mere infant, something not even Y/N remembered herself. Wanda had been able to see before that and seen the love her parents had for their daughter. She could even feel the love in herself. The horror in her parents when their murderers came took over Wanda’s own emotions, making her cry involuntarily from their powerful impact.

“Are you okay?” Steve looked over at Wanda whose hands were shaking, eyes staring emptily at Y/N with tears silently running down from them.

“You see it, don’t you?” Y/N asked despite already knowing that Wanda could.

Yes.” Wanda let out a sharp exhale. “I am so sorry.”

“I was too young to know my parents, to even have a memory of them. Even if I appreciate your pity I find it difficult to mourn the loss of two people that might as well have never existed if I wasn’t alive to prove otherwise.” Y/N smiled subtly, hoping it would reassure Wanda and the rest that she was alright.

“They loved you… I think you deserve to know that.” Wanda emitted, realizing what a mess she was as another tear fell and hastily beginning to wipe them away.

Y/N smiled even wider. Even if she did not remember her parents her self, it was nice to know they had loved her nonetheless. “Thank you.”

BBRae Week - Day 1: Pining

-=oOo=-

Two weeks.

It’s been two cursed weeks since he’s been gone.  Two weeks since Robin sent him to Steel City so he could lend a helping hand against an uptick in crime over there, while things in Jump were getting uneventful to the point of being boring.

Which gave her a lot of time for thinking, and moping, and pining.

Not that they were dating. Or going out. Or seeing each other. Or having a… thing. Or whatever you would call a normal romantic relationship between two teenagers desperately in love with each other.

Of course they weren’t. It was stupid to even think about it. She was anything but normal. It’s not like she could have a romantic relationship with anyone, let alone inflict herself on him. She had to keep her feelings hidden from him, and from the others.

But of course, all of that didn’t mean she didn’t miss him terribly. Miss the sound of his voice, the green of his eyes, the flash of his grin. Yearn for the comforting, calming, almost overwhelming tide of love that flowed into her every time he was near. How in Azar’s name was he able to stir everything up in her and yet calm her down?

She groaned, exasperated and irritated by him for being impossible even when he wasn’t around.

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Flashmom: Origin

Barry Allen X Reader

AN: The flashmom origin story

Words: 1115


You face Diana with your shoulders squared, and a determined glint in your eyes. It had been nearly three years since you had seen your sister. You watch the surprise bloom on her face.

Quicker than you can comprehend, her arms are around you, her face buried in your hair. She had always been a bit taller than you, had always teased you about it; how you were the little sister, despite the fact that you were nearly a hundred years older.

Your own arms wrap around her and you whisper, “Hello little sister.”

She pulls away and smiles at you, “How are you here? How do you know Flash?”

Your eyes slide to Barry as he walks out from the back room, dressed in his everyday clothes. You smile, “I’ve known Barry for years.”

Her smile falters, “I don’t understand.”

Taking her hand, you lead her out of the room and into the back garden. You allow her a moment to adjust. You watch as she smiles, and walks around the garden. The plants had taken over the entire yard, having bloomed brilliantly. When she pauses at a flower native to Themyscira you say, “It’s one of the only things I brought from home.”

She doesn’t look at you, as understanding dawns on her. “Your mother grieved for you. She believes you to be dead. All of our sisters believe you to be dead.”

You close your eyes and think of your home land for a moment. You had been only a child when you and your mother had moved to Themyscira, after the war with man had ended and the amazons had been freed. It had been a wonderland to your young eyes. A land filled with people who had cared for you. A land where you were safe, and you knew it.

You had been the youngest of the Amazons, until Diana had been born from Clay. By that time, you were a grown woman. But at a hundred and five years old, you were still seen as a child, and by the time Diana was fifty she was your best friend. The two of you had trained together, and learned together. You had been best friends, and you had honestly thought your life could not be any better, and then you had met Barry.

Thousands of years had passed by that time, and you had found the strange man on the far shores of the Island. A place where your sisters rarely went. A place you went to seek solitude. He had been near death, and to this day you still don’t understand what moved you to save him, but you had.

It had taken several days to nurse him back to consciousness, and another two weeks to nurse him back to full health. In that time you had been returned occasionally to the city, and interacted with your sisters, before making your way back to him, with the necessary supplies.

Some part of you had expected him to attack you, or try and hurt you. Instead he had simply smiled at you, and enquired about your home. You had found yourself fascinated by the man.

He didn’t return to man’s world right away. He stayed for another week before he left. When he left you had found yourself missing him. Longing for him. You did your best to stay positive, and happy in front of your sisters. In private however your heart hurt.

Still, you made appoint to interact with your friends, and your family. You participated in the plays, sparred with Diana, and read in the afternoons. You made a point of living.

You returned to your secluded spot a year after you had met the man. The remnants of his stay were met with a loving fondness and a slight ache in your heart. You were so caught up in your memories, that the moment the hand landed on your shoulder, you were startled into action.

If Barry Allen had not been the fastest man alive, he very well would have been dead. You were more than a little surprised to see him again, or that he had even found his way back to the island. You had ended up meeting him once every thirty days. Eventually you had come to love him, and after a year, you asked him to take you with him, and he had.

Barry had taken you to his home. The two of you lived in a small apartment in Central City, where Barry worked as a CSI, and you spent the days learning all you could about man’s world. You took classes on the computer. Caitlin and Cisco also taught you. Iris took you to different museums.

You spent the nights with Barry. Sometimes the two of you would curl in front of the fire, other times you would sit in Star Labs and come up with different strategies. Then there were the date nights. Barry insisted on them, and to be completely honest you loved them. The two of you would go out and eat, and dance, and live.

More often than not bouts of homesickness would hit you. You would think of your mother, and your sisters, and Diana. More often than not you would try and push those thoughts to the side, and focus on your life now. More often than not you failed.

Now, looking at Diana, you can’t help but wonder if you had made the right decision. “Did you think about us?” She finally asks.

You smile, “Of course. This garden is dedication to that. To our home.”

“You left without a word. We feared you had been captured, or …”

“Taken my own life?”

“Among other things.”

“I’m sorry Diana, but my heart led me off the island. Like your own did.”

Diana simply sighs, “Now we must return.”

You stare at her “We?”

“Themyscira is in danger. Our sisters need our help, and you were always good with a bow.”

“Diana, my life is here.”

Her hands land on your shoulders, “Y/N our sisters, our family is in trouble, Aries is trying to escape.”

Your eyes slide to Barry who is looking at you through the window, and you understand. You had known about Diana from the moment she had joined the League. He had befriended her, and welcomed her. And you had no doubts that at the mention of the possible destruction of your homeland, he had brought Diana here to request your help. And more importantly, for you to convince her to let the League help.

Looking her in the eyes you set accept this new challenge.

THE SYMBOLIC APHORISMS OF PYTHAGORAS

Iamblichus gathered thirty-nine of the symbolic sayings of Pythagoras and interpreted them. These have been translated from the Greek by Thomas Taylor. Aphorismic statement was one of the favorite methods of instruction used in the Pythagorean university of Crotona. Ten of the most representative of these aphorisms are reproduced below with a brief elucidation of their concealed meanings.

I. Declining from the public ways, walk in unfrequented paths. By this it is to be understood that those who desire wisdom must seek it in solitude.

II. Govern your tongue before all other things, following the gods. This aphorism warns man that his words, instead of representing him, misrepresent him, and that when in doubt as to what he should say, he should always be silent.

III. The wind blowing, adore the sound. Pythagoras here reminds his disciples that the fiat of God is heard in the voice of the elements, and that all things in Nature manifest through harmony, rhythm, order, or procedure the attributes of the Deity.

IV. Assist a man in raising a burden; but do not assist him in laying it down. The student is instructed to aid the diligent but never to assist those who seek to evade their responsibilities, for it is a great sin to encourage indolence.

V. Speak not about Pythagoric concerns without light. The world is herein warned that it should not attempt to interpret the mysteries of God and the secrets of the sciences without spiritual and intellectual illumination.

VI. Having departed from your house, turn not back, for the furies will be your attendants. Pythagoras here warns his followers that any who begin the search for truth and, after having learned part of the mystery, become discouraged and attempt to return again to their former ways of vice and ignorance, will suffer exceedingly; for it is better to know nothing about Divinity than to learn a little and then stop without learning all.

VII. Nourish a cock, but sacrifice it not; for it is sacred to the sun and moon. Two great lessons are concealed in this aphorism. The first is a warning against the sacrifice of living things to the gods, because life is sacred and man should not destroy it even as an offering to the Deity. The second warns man that the human body here referred to as a cock is sacred to the sun (God) and the moon (Nature), and should be guarded and preserved as man’s most precious medium of expression. Pythagoras also warned his disciples against suicide.

VIII. Receive not a swallow into your house. This warns the seeker after truth not to allow drifting thoughts to come into his mind nor shiftless persons to enter into his life. He must ever surround himself with rationally inspired thinkers and with conscientious workers.

IX. Offer not your right hand easily to anyone. This warns the disciple to keep his own counsel and not offer wisdom and knowledge (his right hand) to such as are incapable of appreciating them. The hand here represents Truth, which raises those who have fallen because of ignorance; but as many of the unregenerate do not desire wisdom they will cut off the hand that is extended in kindness to them. Time alone can effect the redemption of the ignorant masses

X. When rising from the bedclothes, roll them together, and obliterate the impression of the body. Pythagoras directed his disciples who had awakened from the sleep of ignorance into the waking state of intelligence to eliminate from their recollection all memory of their former spiritual darkness; for a wise man in passing leaves no form behind him which others less intelligent, seeing, shall use as a mold for the casting of idols.

~ Manly P. Hall; The Secret Teachings Of All Ages