In the past few years the economy has tanked, it’s true. We’ve all had to save our pennies for the really nice things we want. So why not do the same for your magic work?

Here’s the thing. The prevailing theory behind most magic is “as above so below.” The translation? “Garbage in. Garbage out.” If you can afford to get better quality of materials yet choose to go cheap? Guess what your magic results will be?

Now before everyone loses their minds, read the above again. Now read it out loud. The part that should stick out is the ” if you can afford to get better quality. ” if you’re still trying to get food on your table to feed yourself and your family? I won’t begrudge you on that point. However, if you’re shopping for a new video game or crystal? Some bling that you really don’t need to survive? Seriously, just get better spell materials.

I have to admit that I have an ulterior motive here, Not just for myself. Since the economic fubar in the past few years, a whole new class of artisans have emerged. From all natural candles, hand made fantastic incense, fine crafted jewelry to some great soaps and artwork are all available for you – made by people you know who understand the importance and value of good work.

Yes, it may seem expensive. Just give them your money.

So I hear some dissenters in the crowd. Ok fine. Let’s say that item A seems steep on price. Answer these questions:

1. Can you get it anywhere else?
2. Was it hand or machine made?
3. Can you talk to the person who made it and look them in the eye?
4. Can you get it customized specifically for you?
5. Can you get all that from the $1 store?

And more importantly, will you have a better magical experience with a product that you know will work and work as intended?

Hopefully the point is clear here. Save your shekels and get the good stuff. If you’re looking for me to plug my own business, you’re out of luck. HOWEVER, Check out the Pagan Business Network to find a whole new world of great products made by great people.

Sometimes, when I’m quite tired, I admit that I’m

I’m jealous of all those who seemingly commune with their gods,  deities and spirits – and get answers, get direction,  get a pat on the head for being a good little devotee.

See it’s not like that for me. My prayer time is more like turning in a field report and awaiting further orders.  I salute,  tell of my findings, play down the mishaps, under represent my achievements and wait to get sent off on another adventure.

For a long time I wanted to be like my peers, the ones who told of magical journeys to the Other World  there the deity of their choice bestows some awesome spiritual gift upon them.

Yeah, my reality is nothing like that.The Flash of Lightning and the Fiery Arrow are hands off most of the time. But when my patron do deities call?  Well, you know how your parent, partner or guardian calls you by ALL of your names?

Lugh decided He wanted an online shrine. THEN gave me something else to effectively keep me away from it.  Did I mention that  the something else was to expand my skills so much that I didn’t realize just how much I  can do?  (I can send you a resume if you’re interested in the craziness. It’s only good for a day or two.) When the bouts of crippling self doubt hit,  my reward is a burst of brain only power for learning a new cool skill that I’m more suited for.  Talk about never ending homework. I usually don’t find out until months or years later that the “thing” Lugh wanted me to do is needed at a certain place and time. You guessed it, I’m the one with either the answer, the skill or the knowledge to say “yeah you really don’t want to do that….”

The spike is made of iron. As I have learned while I work through the Iron Pentacle, iron is my birthright.  It is in my blood. It’s of the stars the earth my ancestors and all that is. Anchored by the past, rooted in the present and reaching for the future  I am whole. Forged in the fire, I am the flame than no one shall quench. Though this spike is small,  it is important.  For one loose spike can unsettle or derail an entire train.

And for all of that?  The potential builds quietly, waiting for the call – the next set of orders.  The hammer is clean. The awl is sharpened. The spike is oiled.  I’m given smaller tasks to fulfill and magick to make. No epic journeys,  no deity manifestations. Just the occasional  healing candle, tarot reading or house spirit fight to break up.

I don’t flame tend or well watch for Brighid.  My poetry isn’t that great and I don’t make mead. I don’t speak Gaelic for Lugh. My chess game is terrible. I don’t own a kilt, though I want one badly. I don’t have tattoos in ogham and can barely pick out words in it.  Hell, I’m not even a natural red head.  (Looks the mirror) Nope. Still not a ginger!
 

I am not like the others.  I don’t fit neatly into the crowd. As an African American (with First Nations heritage), I stand out in a crowd of Celts.  I’m a little jealous of all those who either look like their gods or have shared ancestry. And the ones who look like they stepped right out of a fairy tale! Yeah I’m talking about you mythic Valkyries, warriors and oracles. (sigh). That’s not me.

 

If you’re looking for me, check for the brown skirt, red boots and the tool belt. Yup, there I am: in the back with my non Celtic djembe, singing new words to old gospel hymns. I’m there on the outskirts, working candle magic and sigils that don’t look like the ones in the books. I’m over on the side scribbling notes as I find new roots to work with and create new spells.

 

To be clear,  I am not bored – at all. I’m way too busy to be bored. Just a little jealous.  Then again, I’m quite tired right now. I’m sure I’ll be busy with fresh orders,  inspiration and new magic in the morning.

When I was young, foolish and freshly married the first time, I experienced something I thought I would never know.  I went hungry.

Granted, it was only about a week. However, those seven days of nothing have stuck with me forever. No one should ever have to go hungry.

I remember being a kid at about ten years old where I started the growth spurts. I ate everything that wasn’t nailed down. I remember my father saying that as long as I ate something he didn’t care.   My mom was silently furious. I’m pretty sure I ate some things she was saving for herself. Sorry Mom!

Yet with the background from my parents: my mother: the first of eight siblings, my father: growing up with Rickett’s and having a sibling die of malnutrition, I am extremely spoiled when it came to food. My parents were on the stricter side and fair. I ate was what provided or I didn’t eat at all. And they always provided for me.  The feeling stuck.

That gnawing in my belly. That burning anger that I couldn’t assign a reason to besides privilege. The frustration as I saw many people tossing out food that was still good if prepared properly.  Never again.

I found myself at my church. They had a food bank. I had no idea how to even ask for something to eat. Eyes down and shaking, I remember just standing next to Ms. Norma, the food bank worker. Ashamed, I couldn’t even ask her. She took pity on me. She filled out the forms for me, made me sign at the bottom and handed me a box of food.

That was the best damn tuna sandwich I’ve ever had in my life.

I spent the next few months working at that food bank and with my church. No one knew it then, but I was determined to earn every morsel of food I put in my mouth. I smiled warmly to everyone who came in to get a box. I helped them with the forms. I knew what it was like.

Now I am older, still foolish and married for the second time.  I struggle with my weight. Why? Because I know that there are people out there hungry – more than I was all that time ago. Some days I don’t eat. Some days I can’t eat. Most days I force myself to eat. I have to honor my body and the gift that Ms. Norma gave me all that time ago.  I can do more.

Here are some facts about hunger in Canada:

“Each month, close to 850,000 Canadians are assisted by food banks, and 36.4% of those helped are children and youth. … Who is turning to food banks?  There is no single, typical profile.  The people helped include families with children, employed people whose wages are not sufficient to cover basic living essentials, individuals on social assistance, and Canadians living on a fixed income, including people with disabilities and seniors.”

http://www.foodbankscanada.ca/Learn-About-Hunger/About-Hunger-in-Canada.aspx

That not clear enough for you? How about a picture? HungerCount Infographic 2014:

http://www.foodbankscanada.ca/hungercount

That’s right.  Your next-door neighbours could have enough to pay the bills – but not eat. More than likely, you’ll never know about it.  Here’s how you can help:

Support your local food bank.

Here are some of the items that are always needed:

1. Pasta (canned or dry) and pasta sauces.
2. Canned and frozen meats and fish
3. Meat alternatives (peanut butter, soy, assorted nuts)
4. Canned goods (beans, soups, and stews)
5. Dairy (fresh, canned, and powdered milk)
6. Canned vegetables and fruit
7. Whole grain cereals
8. Infant foods and baby formula
9. Bathroom tissue and diapers
10. Personal hygiene products

Moreover, if you are one of the invisible many who are struggling to put food on the table AND a roof overhead, USE THE FOOD BANK.

Here are the food banks that I know of:

* Brock Community Food Bank – 1-877-406-8723
* Beaverton – 1-877-406-8723
* Cannington/Sunderland – 1-877-406-8723

Clarington East:

* Newcastle – 905-987-1418
* Loaves and Fishes–Uxbridge – 905-852-6262
* Operation Scugog – 905-985-7271

* Salvation Army:
Ajax – 905-427-7123
Bowmanville – 905-623-2185
Oshawa – 905-723-7422
Whitby – 905-430-3454

* Seventh Day Adventists–Oshawa – 905-433-8800
* Simcoe Hall Settlement House–Oshawa – 905-728-7525
* St Paul’s on the Hill–Pickering – 905-839-9537

I know the shame.  I know the frustration.  I know the fear of stigmatization. My friends, you can fight all of that better of a full stomach. If you can’t seem to get to the bank. PLEASE reach out to your friends. We’ll help as best we can!

Blessings

Rev. Terrie