the element of air stands out from the other elements.
all of the other elements; earth, fire, water, are all visible, and touchable (dont burn ya self lol)
air however, is only visible as it shakes the tree tops, and turns the leafs rustling into music
as such, people often have a harder time finding ways to incorporate the element of air into their craft.
here are a few easy and simple ideas for that;
🍃this can be done everywhere, on your way to work, or in the comfort of your garden;
notice the way your lungs expand with each breath. visualize the pure air, cleansing your body and mind of all troubles bothering you. this is very effective if you´ve had a particularly bad day at work or school, and have no way to leave the situation making you uncomfortable
🍃notice the sound the leafs and grass makes, as they are touched by the wind
really tune into the sound. hum along to the breeze (the little folk really enjoys this as well), if you want to, you can even make a little song out of the melody. i used to this a lot when i were a child. you really get in contact with your inner child.
🍃dancing. yes it sounds silly and it sure is! (this is also something the faery folk likes), but feeling the way the wind touches your body, and letting it sway you is both fun and a very good way of bonding.
🍃on car rides, particularly hot days, sticking you hand out the way and notice how the wind braids itself around your fingers, now try moving your hand and fingers in different ways, it is a really good calming method, if you´re feeling annoyed as well.
🍃opening your windows, and letting new air in. sit and notice how the atmosphere slowly changes.
🍃if it´s a stormy day out, i like to visualize the wind going trough me, encouraging bravery and strength, this always makes me feel very powerful, and witchy
🍃doing spells in stormy weather, particularly ones for strength, courage or curses is a super good way to get you in the mood, and gives an extra energy boost to the spell
Bolotnitsa (rus. болотница “the swamp maiden”) — an evil spirit of the swamps. Unlike rusalkas (russian water spirits, analog of mermaids) bolotnitsa was alomst indistinguishable from mortal women (in other words, she had, hmm, flesh. I just can’t come up with any English word describing an evil spirit, which is not exactly the spirit but some sort of zombie). She was traditionally pictured as an unbelievably beautiful dark-haired woman sitting on enormous water lily with her legs under her. In this way she was hiding her frog (or sometimes goose) legs. If any misfortunate soul dared walking near the swamp, bolotnitsa did her best to persuade the person to come near the water by cries for help, pleas, words of kindness. If person couldn’t resist bolotnitsa’s charm and stepped into the water, she strangled and drowned them immediately.
Strega Babe was founded by Dakota Hendrix, a Brooklyn based queer, non binary witch who’s practice is based at the crossroads of their heritage.
Their mother’s line was steeped in Southern Folk Magic, Hoodoo, Conjure. Their father’s line was made up of Strega, practitioners of Italian Catholic Folk Magic/Witchcraft.
Both of these traditions are of “the lower class” - poor people, peasants, folk who survive. This is practical magic at its most creative and it’s most effective. No fancy, frivolous, lavish words, rituals, tools or ingredients needed.
Please take a moment to check out our Etsy shop to learn more about our StregaBaths and if you’re so inclined, Favorite us. We would also appreciate any boosting of this post.
All of our baths are made with high quality, organic, ethically sourced herbs.
Idnrik-beast (rus. Индрик, derived from old rus. Inorog (Инорог) — “unicorn”) — is a mythological “father of all beasts” from russian legendary. Mentioned in famous Golubinaya (Голубиная) Book (a collection of Eastern-Slavic folk spiritual poems and psalms of the late XV — early XVI century). It is believed that Indrik took form of an enormous creature with a bull’s body, head of a horse and legs of a deer. The can have both one or two horns. Indrik is a master of all groundwaters and underground troves, the protector and king of animals. According to many works of folklore, under certain circumstances Indrik can act as a magical helper of the hero, helping him to find treasure and get rid of the enemies.
I’ve followed like forty new witchy/spiritual blogs today because my dash has been so dead, hopefully it’ll liven up now! But please, if you’re a witchcraft blog or a divination blog or fit into the tags follow me so I can give you a follow back! Thank you~
African spirituality only scare those who refuse to understand it, and those who know it but just don’t want you to embrace it. We black folks are spiritual people by nature, never limit yourself to the european standard. You don’t need a book written by people who you call devils to tell you what is good and evil, the soul already knows. #blackempowerment #consciouscommunity #blackmanisgod #blackwomanisgod #Messiah #RBG #Rasta #proafrican #godsandgoddesses #IAmGod #Jah #keytolife #blackwomen #blackfamily #blackmen #blacklove #knowthyself #knowledge #Africanculture #African #blackunity #nubian #hotep #unapologetically #panafrican #panafricanism #wise_creator #africanspirituality by wise_creator https://www.instagram.com/p/BGGsYAgHAcb/
Rappers are ACTORS!
All my life, I thought that queerness was invisible in the histories of China.
I looked desperately when I was younger, for representation from my own people. I would fan through the mythology books, crane my head against the historical tv talk shows my grandma liked to watch in the evening. Anything, any sliver. I found only brief mentions, of perverted relationships, of STIs, of disease and sadness and the victimization of the people like me.
Not the white gays with their rainbow flags and gay pride parades. But people, like me, yellow skin, black hair, hands reaching out to the ones they loved, reaching into their bodies, pulling out who they really are from the costumes they are forced to wear.
It wasn’t until I was much older when I heard about the stories.
Of the emperor so in love with one of his officials, that when they were napping in the afternoon one day, and the emperor was called away by others for city matters, and his lover was sleeping on his sleeves, he would rather cut the sleeve of his royal gown in half rather than disturb the other man’s rest.
Of the soldier from FuJian who fell in love with one of his officiating officers, who spied on the officer when he was showering because that was all he could do. He was discovered. He was tortured. He was killed. He came back in the dreams of the villagers of the place where he was positioned. He petitioned, no, demanded for a temple to be built so that people like him could pray for love safely. The villagers complied, when outsiders asked, no on answered as to why they were building this temple to a Rabbit God.
Of the Oldest Goddess who never married. Living in her temple in the west with her tigers and spirit companions and peach trees draped so heavily with fruit that every three thousand years they had to be relieved of their immortal weight.
Men approach her, their hands grappling for immortality from her luscious garden, and she rejects all of them, showing them a mirror to the unworthiness of their own selves.
Of Mazu, a girl who knew how to walk on water when sleeping, how to fly over the sea, pulling her loved ones out of disaster. Who when she died, bested herself against the demons pursuing her for marriage, transforming them to her companions instead, ever watchful guardians seeing and hearing her surroundings for her as she continued caring for those who needed her.
I now scramble to remember my language again, look for statues through the streets of China town, trying to find the coins and the moon blocks and the fortune sticks so I can light incense and pray and say that I see my people and my people see me. I had to look to find the weirdos and the forgotten Gods and the ones who were like me, on the edges of the sea in islands off the coast of main land. Travelling to foreign lands with me in my blood and body and breathe and memories.
I remember seeing Mazu, and H’si Wang Mu, and Tu Er Shen, and The Emperor with the Cut Sleeve and his lover when I was little, their narratives twisted to fit into the heteronormative cissexist ideals of their main stream devotees, and I didn’t know what that meant.
I didn’t know they were like me. And so I thought I was alone and so I thought my people and my spirits have abandoned me.
But here they are, the fags and witches and dykes and singles and powerful women and men and trannies that stand proud in the worship of millions. That no matter how hard their devotees may try to twist their stories, they will always be there for the people like them.
Throw the moon blocks, cast the coins, pull the qian.