Snowy Owls House

It’s odd how things happen. As I have been online sharing my journeys with everyone, I still am being pushed to build the temple. While things don’t feel right to build where I live currently, there has suddenly been opportunities to go to other places. This brought me an idea of maybe making the temple first into a traveling one. Like the Christian missionaries. I could get a small RV or camper of some sort, and travel to different locations for different events. In travels find where it feels right to lay down roots. Today presented an opportunity to venture into big sky country. Lots of land up in Montana with glorious space for many to gather. A place to share knowledge and wisdom. A place to learn and grow. Who am I to question the path before me?

As I get the push each time, it comes with greater force. As if they lay it right before me. Like a bowl of food, laid down before a blind dog. The only one procrastinating is myself. As I find obstacles, they seem to then crumble before long. So it’s the will of the gods that I do this. I will hope to bring greatness and glory to them. This task can not be completed on my own. I will need to assemble my “raiding party” if you will. Those who wish to join in this journey. Who out there feels it’s fated to you to quest with this old dog? While it’s not a Viking raid, it is a quest that will draw blood in a sense. I lay no claim to greatness, but I do stand before you all to lead. I do not command, but instead lead by example. I carry the torch to light the way. I am looking for those who wish to forge the way with me. To cast the iron and sew the fields. Instead of spreading the barbarity of old, we will show those who seek our truth how to find their own. Stand at their backs to defend from what they can not see. Shield them from the hardships that come at them like an arrow to the heart. Ride with them so they don’t travel alone. We will raise a drink to their victories, and sing of their triumphs. When they fall, we shall send them off on their journey with the glory they deserve.

While I talk with poetry, I want you to understand this is no jest. I will raise a temple. I will bring a place for pagan, polytheistic, and just spiritual kind, together. The goal is to build a better future through understanding. it will happen because it’s the will of the gods. It will happen because it is the will of the people. It will happen because I will it so. I have seen it. I have heard it in lifetimes before.

Today it rings in my ears that it is time.

S.O.

Many people know the saying that “knowledge is power”, but why do so many disregard wisdom of knowledge. Knowing what is, differs greatly from knowing what you’re told or heard. We also have heard the term “seeing is believing” yet hallucinations can ravage ones mind. What is to say that hallucinations are not just a glimpse through a perception window between realities? Because some can not understand this reality because they can not perceive it creates doubt. Doubt caused them to make a conclusion on what they perceive. What if people who suffer from mental illness like dementia or schizophrenia, or similar behavioral disorders are just seeing something different that others can’t explain? That would be a huge can of worms to open.

Throughout time, man has used shared knowledge as a source of education. They write books of words for people to read, but not everyone who reads them gains knowledge. Some people have the ability to read a book and visualize a great story. While others get lost in the details. Some can go through a math text and unlock the universe, while some can’t count change back to a customer. Does it make a difference to which one is “sane?” Probably not, but we don’t apply this to people who are labeled with a behavioral disorder because as far as we’ve been told they don’t qualify as sane. I would like to ask why we do this? I am considered sane, yet I get visions. Not hallucinations, but visions. Some are my subconscious sending signals and messages of things my conscious mind doesn’t perceive. I get told they are wild day dreams etcetera, but I see them as reality. So why can’t we accept the idea that those who are “hallucinating” are just perceiving their reality?

We have been told over lifetimes what to think. We were told what is real. When those who see through it question it, they are insane heretical thinkers. Look at books people believe. The Bible is clearly written by men. It was used to push a power agenda to conquer the world. Christian based religion is one of the most violent religions in history. It’s not the only one in anyway. I myself can’t say I’m religious. I went to church as a kid and got what I needed from it. As I grew older and read more, I noticed that the majority of beliefs that were considered pagan were actually some of the most relatable. Some still used wrath of the gods stories, but always to justify a power play. However, If you look at the basis of practices they were the most sustainable people to live. Understanding balance of living with nature. Their reasoning for certain practices like sacrifice were misunderstood. It was to gain the favor of the gods for bountiful crops. Yet today we still do this, but it’s called composting and soil building. This is why we don’t need to sacrifice people or animals to the gods anymore. Someone explained the science of it and wrote it in books for farmers and gardeners. Realistically they were giving back to the earth. Now we have people who don’t heed the science, and over farm, over fish, trophy hunt, etc.

People who believe we are more than animals are more of a virus anymore. They spread and use up everything to sustain themselves. Those who are like animals at least understand that the more mouths you feed the hungrier you get. The food doesn’t go as far. Polygamy in any religion is the most ignorant selfish act. They are like a super virus. Because they don’t just have 12-18 kids with one partner, but with multiple partners. All because a book written by a man said this is how to gain strength through god. This is why I find those who are religious to be some of the most ignorant people. They take the false information made in a fictional book and follow it as gospel truth. They defend that belief with a ferociousness. I want to say that I have no personal grievance towards these people, but instead I appreciate them for their dedication to a belief. I just wish it was a different belief. They just grew up being told that this was truth. The word of god. Really though it’s the words of men.

A slave was useful until they are educated. A woman was useful until she was educated. Those in power knew that if they wanted to control them, they had to create an Idea that this was the will of something great that if angered would bring terrible things upon them. When they wanted to prove this they would tell stories. Those stories get transcribed and spread like a bad STD. Rewriting history in the vision of those who wanted to hold control. When dictators take over a land, they burn anything that contradicts what they want people to believe. I remember watching people burning books or steam rolling albums, because it was a message they didn’t like. Now you have a huge movement called Qanon Using totally false claims and propaganda to stir fear in the same people who blindly follow “holy scriptures” and believe every meme posted on social media. Again it’s controlled fear as a weapon.

Accountability is a word in the dictionary anymore. It’s no longer a value we teach in society. Our own use of trends have changed how the world is shaping. The constant ability to make a mess for someone else to clean up. Let the slaves farm the fields. Let the women cook and clean and serve the man of the house. Cut down a Forrest and leave the razed earth for someone else to fix. Sell a plastic replacement and leave someone else to dispose of the mess. It’s not a single person or group, but every one of us. We can say “it’s not my fault!” Really though it is. Our pursuit for our identity and success leaves a mark. I know I piss people off all the time. Some will read this and be so offended that I will become an enemy in their mind. The thing is that I acknowledge my faults. I try every day to change. I make decisions every minute to make my life of waste and abuse into one of healing. All I can do is try to make better choices. Sacrifice some convenience. Share what I have learned. Yes knowledge is power. What will your power bring you? Will you buy a big house and fancy car and live a lavish life of convenience, or will you try to make a real change to creat a better future? One of balance. One that we aren’t leaving for our children and grandchildren are left cleaning up.

Again I’m not hating on anyone with these statements. I’m just trying to share my perspective. This is my reality. It’s all over the place like trying to create fine art with a shotgun, but step back and see if something comes to light.

S.O.

Last night brought me to a strange area. It looked like a lot of homes I saw in skull valley. Modest houses on a larger property. However there was water behind the property. A lot of my circle of friends and acquaintances I have been in contact with here in Arizona were there. While the overall experience was peaceful there were a few things that caused concern.

I struggled to be able to use a bathroom, and this caused a great unease for me. Something so basic posed challenges. Everyone else was unaware that things were getting dangerous. They instead focused on getting back to the way things were. Falling into old ways that were not working before, and were improbable of being of use now. This did not dissuade them from doing them anyway. Plumbing issues plagued the home. Wood frame of the house rotting. Meanwhile the children were outside playing in the tall brown grasses. Adults who still behave like children were using faulty vehicles, including a small single engine plane. None was hurt, but I couldn’t ignore the state of everything. They new everything needed to be fixed, but no one made any effort to do so. It was like they were waiting for someone else to come in and make everything better. Help never came.

I start leaking blood and other waste out of my ass. I continue to fall apart internally regardless of the effort to change things. Everyone is blind to the obvious internal hemorrhaging that was taking place. I can’t find help. No doctors will help. I can’t cut myself open to make the repairs. As I feel lost I realize that nothing changes as long as everyone chooses to be indifferent about everything. I stand and stomp my left foot throwing my arms side and scream a primal scream. I look to the sky and see a cloud form over me. Rain starts to fall and wind blows hard. In front of me yet again is Odin. He asks me what is all the noise is about. I tell him that everyone is doing nothing to help themselves, and those like myself who are trying to change are unable to make forward momentum. He laughs and turns to look at everything before us. He tells me “that is what it’s like to be a shepherd among the sheep. No matter how hard you try, they’re just lambs. Beasts to serve a purpose of sacrifice for the higher being. They eat, shit, breed, and die. They never have an inkling of a thought outside there base instinct. You’re trying to turn a beast to something more, and all you’re doing is tearing yourself up trying to perform miracles. It’s best to sit back and let them do as they wish. “At best you can hope foe a lovely sweater or a meal, but a sheep isn’t a surgeon. It can’t because it’s incapable of the knowledge or the power to do so. Instead ease your mind and accept their fate. Stay warm with a warm wool blanket and feast on a great meal. In the end, that’s all you can do.”

I wake from my dream to find myself wondering why the allfather was so dismissive of everyone and everything. I thought he wanted me to make people see, but now he tells me they never will. Eventually others in the house wake up. My wife and father in law turn on the tv to check the election status. Still no answers but I knew that would be the case. I’ve predicted the outcome to this previously. I’ve predicted everything so far. What stood out was that with the polls swing blue, the red cry’s foul. The people start thinking that this new leader is going to make it all better, but realistically nothing will change. Everyone starts falling into the lulling whispers that things are going to change, but again it’s just a whisper. Change starts at home. I’ve said this so many times. There will be more violence. There will be more death. It’s perpetual. If a change is to happen you have to scrap the whole plan and build a new one from the ground up. Lay a strong foundation and strong framework. The inner workings must be constantly observed and maintained. With moving parts, any miscalculation can cause catastrophic problems, then we’re all in shit.

We know now our house is not in order. We know there are major problems that need to be fixed. Let’s not ignore them and continue to let ourselves bleed out. Diagnose and repair the immediate threats and work towards making healthier decisions. You can’t change some things overnight. Problems this seriously fucked up take a lot of time and constant supervision and care before we can heal these wounds.

S.O.

I keep seeing my grandparents on my mother’s side. They’ve been dead for years, but they’re always around. Lately a lot of that family that has passed on has been coming to me. Sharing things that I never saw before. So many old traditions that are carried in the blood. My grandfather’s family goes back through England and Holland and Denmark. My grandmother’s family is deep in Scotland. While a lot of them had turned to Christianity, they still did lots of old world traditions. Today so few realize that their traditions are heavily tempered in pagan beliefs. M as my hid the fact that they had abilities to do magical things. Today a lot of it falls under empathy and what many like myself are very empathic. The call to nature and the earth runs deep. Hunting and farming were the way of life. While not too many of my family farm anymore, quite a few still hunt.

I remember going to my family’s places in Godfrey. While there were a few hunting trophies, they hunted for food and furs. They still did a lot of trapping. Often I would be seeing the skins of animals being stretched out and hung about the basement. Family barbecues often featured venison. Fish fry’s were another popular gathering. Especially with the bullheads. Everyone drinking and eating. Usually there were card games and horseshoes. I never knew then how much I would miss that now. I’m sure that I’d why I am seeing so many of the ones who passed now. My spirit is calling to them. When I see them they are always at a separate table from those who are still here. My cousin Laura who I haven’t seen in decades, was trying to talk to her mom, but Couldn’t hear what her mom was saying. Uncle Lorne was just watching everyone with a big smile. it saddens me to wake sometimes from these dreams. I know we will see each other again eventually.

Today as I sat pondering all of my familial journeys, I noticed that even though they come in pieces it’s kind of a fluid state of being. I can communicate more with them, and in turn the pictures come while I’m awake too. Sometimes it makes me question if I’m here or there. I go through the veil so easily anymore, that I barely notice the difference. I look around and see the physical world, but like a signal on a channel that’s not quite coming in on the antenna, the others are bleeding through. Smells, sounds,etc. it’s still nerve wracking at times, but it’s getting easier. Especially as I embrace my true self more. I no longer care if people joke about my fortune cookie wisdom, or overly dramatic tones of painted words. This is me, and make no apologies for it.

I’m sure tonight will be another adventure. I spent the day with two very boastful deities and a quiet loa. Today Legba sat back and listened to the others with me. In the mid of it, it started to rain a little.

So as I am getting tired now, I am going to say goodnight, and I will see you again soon.

S.O.

1- watch for that you cannot see. It’s when you’re not prepared, you suffer the greatest loss.

2- don’t hold your glass too long. It will draw its next fill from you.

3- Trying to hold power for too long is like holding a match and not letting go. You eventually get burned.

4- the time of many losses will lead off the change of a spiritual shift, and more losses will ensue for all.

5- too long with a grave can drag you down as well.

6- wells will go barren and fires will ravage the land. Then man return to beasts.

In a cluttered mess of a room, I was looking for a place to plug in a computer. Mind you I already knew it was not going to work. I tend to hold on to things that just might have a use at some point, for something that never occurs. Sorting through the papers piled all over every surface including the floor, I find old writings and journal entries. Magical Sigils and runes scratched into a stacks of papers on the floor. I find boxed with tins of tobacco, and assorted offerings for the gods. Bottles of wine, rum, bourbon, ale, mead, vodka, and some filled with blood. I stop trying to make sense of the space and clutter, and instead grab a bottle of wine, an empty journal, a pipe and tobacco, and a pen. I go outside to a large courtyard with a table and chairs made of iron and wood. It’s a dark autumn night that’s a bit damp with a light mist in the air distorting things in the distance. The dogs are running around waiting for me to open the large iron gate so they can run around the clearing and the trees.

There are several dogs on the property. Some are small and a little more skittish. Others are big and fearless. Some are old while others are yet pups. Wee whelps finding their place in the pack. There’s one that is not a dog at all, but a god of death. Sitting tall and ominous in a clearing in the trees. Anubis sits patiently with no human features at all here. A dog sitting still as a statue. A giant who sitting there is at least eight feet tall. All black with eyes reflecting the light of the moon. The rest off the dogs run as soon as the gate opens. Some sit nervously looking out into the distance. The night is spent watching the dogs chasing each other while I sit writing endlessly. The night grows to morning. The dogs are resting at my feet. Around the corner of the large stone home I start to hear voices. In the daylight, the home appears to be an old castle where a small town has sprung up before it. There’s an elderly woman with her a small dog in her lap. She is drinking tea in front of a cafe. Beside the cafe is some stairs leading up into a dining room. There are men bickering over some small trivial matter. A young boy walks down the stairs to bring a plate of scones to the elderly woman who spots me coming around the corner. She tells me her granddaughter is sorry she was so cruel. That she never meant to play games with my heart and that I should at least forgive her. She hands me a cigar and a small flask. I thank her for the gifts and turn back to the castle.

The day grows cold and the sun fades early. Snow starts to fall on the grounds. With no time to waste I pour a glass of bourbon and start a fire. The fireplace is a large stone opening with a large wood beam mantle and a large stone hearth. I sit into a large cashier and light a cigar and sip my bourbon. in walks the young boy who I saw bringing the scones to the elderly woman. He hands me a pouch of tobacco and a leather bound book. He tells me that I need to try to tell the story. People need to hear these words. He walks away and I open the book to find blank pages. On a small table beside the chair is a pen. It’s dark blue with gold inlay. I start writing and the words glow as I put pen to paper. The dogs are at my feet sleeping as I write. I hear a woman’s voice singing melodically. I wake up hearing a song in my head. Outside it’s freezing cold.

In this there is the constant reminder that our work is never done. Sometimes it’s rewarded, and sometimes it’s thankless. Days and nights will pass. Seasons change. People will always bicker, and death is always looming in the distance. It does not take away from the reminder that we are always needing to move forward and not look for anything more than the small things that make it work a little more bearable.

S.O.

Finding my voice wasn’t me screaming from the womb. It wasn’t my first words, nor was it me trying to sing. That was just me making noises. Mimicking things I heard people say. Performing like a bird for peanuts. Until recently I never used my real voice. I never found my voice until I learned to say enough.I used to play the part of what I perceived others expected me to be, instead of really speaking from my soul. Sure I would say things, but only words that didn’t mean anything. My Voice is more than the sounds that t escape my food hole. My Voice comes with action. My Voice comes with thought. My Voice is the way I listen to everything around me and respond in kind. Words are empty gestures. I can say as many words as I want here, but in the end it does nothing to speak of my true self. It’s not my song.  It’s not my story. My story is written by the actions or inactions I make. It’s the thought behind a thing I bring to something or someone else. 

I am no scholar. I have no degrees. What are they but scratches on paper. They are not the wisdom and knowledge I accumulate. I have no need for a degree. Instead I read words of others and wonder what were they like? What was their voice? Did they do good deeds? Did they stand for those who could not? Did they hold back the door for somebody to pass? I learn by observation, doing things by trial and error. I watch everything from how the grass moves in the wind, to how an ant will carry food, and how the smell of the air changes with temperatures. How many people truly look and watch for how things move and flow? Can you see the pattern of a a leaf falling from a tree in autumn? Can you look at that leaf and see how it will affect that spot a year from now? It sounds absurd but it’s something you can do, and I do all the time. 

If I told you that each action you make can predict your future, would you believe me? Why not? Sherlock Holmes was a fictitious character, but the art of deduction is a real thing. You can tell a lot about the something just by observation. Yes there are factors to consider, but there are only a finite amount of factors for each outcome. So what is it that makes me look back now and wonder how it took me so long to find my voice? How is it that I couldn’t find a way to say I am worthy of a voice? Why could I not speak true and without fear?  I was learning still. I had to see how people would react to others speaking up. How did the actions of others affect those people? Was I being a coward, or just indifferent? 

Today my voice is strong. I speak when I need to, and speak with intent, and commitment. Sure sometimes I just make noise, but I’m just an animal in the landscape. Sometimes we just make noise. I try to make less noise, but too often I feel the need to yell and howl deep from my belly. I sometimes say a word that has no meaning, but I say it hard and sharp, like I’m cutting down a mountain. It’s the energy behind the words sometimes that makes the difference. I’m often told by my kids, that they can’t tell if I’m angry or not? They say I talk loud and everything sounds the same. I have tried for a long time to learn how to talk with more emotional control. It’s difficult for people like me who are on the spectrum of autism. Some don’t know because I have learned to appear as “normal” as possible so I could be treated like any other person. I may see things differently, but I am just like everyone else. It was never treated because nobody was paying attention. I put that on myself though, because part of my b e st skill is mimicry. If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck… you get the point. 

I credit my kids for helping me find my voice. In watching them grow up, I w a etched them go through a lot and watched them try to find their voice. In being a parent, you often think it’s your job to teach them. In this case they taught me. I learned I need to be more honest. I learned that for me to truly communicate, I need to speak with intent and commitment. I needed to feel like I was being true to myself first, so I can be honest with everybody else. 
S.O.

Today was a journey that started with visions of runes. They have been singing to me for a while. I have been seeing them everywhere. I had the overwhelming call to offer rune readings for people. I started looking for rune sets online to buy, but nothing grabbed me. I felt that nothing less than me making my runes would suffice. 

The house became uncomfortable. I took that as being told to go out, so I got dressed and went out. I put gas in the truck and just went out. Driving along I noticed a beautiful big truck. On its side in huge lettering it s as I’d Valkyrie. On the power pole beside it were some ravens. I laughed to myself as the symbolism wasn’t lost on me. I found myself in town passing by a friend’s new shop. I thought that’s a perfect spot to stop and find my direction. I looked around the new place and admired all their wonderful wares. I checked out the spaces in back. It felt new still. It didn’t have the same energetic their last location, but it was nice. After a visit I left to continue my search. Nothing grabbed me.I felt like it was becoming a fruitless venture so I got some lunch and started home. The air has clearly changed to Autumn. You can smell it in the air. The sun’s hard rays have less weight on my skin. I pass by a zebra feeding with two horses. I smile every time I see it. Continuing my way home I feel exhausted and am happy to pull in the driveway. 

I come out to my sanctuary space I made outside our bedroom, and I immediately see a raven chasing off a crow while another raven sits in the tree beside me watching. I decide I need to log my day into my journal so I pull it from my pack and open it to make a new entry. There right beside my pen inside my journal is a stink bug. I am amused by it. I take a picture of it, then take a moment to watch it. I notice it’s a shield shape and colored like tree bark, but then I notice a clear x shape from its back. Again I’m seeing runes. 

Gebo is the rune I see. It is shaped like the X and means gift, or generosity. I remember reading of the story of Brunhild. A valkyrie trapped by odin awaiting a mortal man brave enough to rescue her. This is the gift explanation or example my books say to reference for the reading of the rune gebo. I laugh because I immediately realize the ravens overlooking the “Valkyrie” I passed earlier. Leave it to a stink bug to connect the days messages. I feel calmer and enjoy the story my day has told me.

Today, and everyday is truly a gift. 
S.O.

Yesterday I spent my time doing work with Papa Legba. While I was doing my work I started to get flooded with images. Messages of which I did my best to convey. At best these image messages are like looking at a sun faded photograph. You see the picture, but a lot of the details are faded and distorted. I felt my skin burning. I knew there was more to come. My ears were ringing loudly as if I were in a silent room. It drowned out the traffic noise. However I heard the cicadas and a raven croaking in the tree behind me. Two katydids streaked by me chirping. Even the drum seemed to fade out to a distant sound. I became uncomfortable physically, so I took the time to thank those who came. I thanked Legba for his help, and asked him to close the gate.

Laying down to try to rest for a bit, I still felt on fire. I was tired and not filled with the energy I usually do after these rituals. I felt like I walked for miles in the desert sun. I started to change my breathing, and meditate on grounding. After about 30 minutes of this I felt more calm although still hot. I went out to the kitchen and scooped a bowl of rainbow sherbet. I was drinking water already, but I needed some sugar or something to put a little gas in the tank. While enjoying my sweet treat, I started reach out to those who I had messages for. I did my best to convey the messages as I saw them. After I was done I went about getting dinner ready and still felt there was more coming, but tried to just be in the moment and enjoy my time with my wife.

After dinner I was sitting at the table playing a puzzle game on my phone when I started feeling a tickle in my hand. I look to see a moth walking along my hand really checking me out. He was on me for at least 20 minutes. I just watched him explore my hand. His antennae feeling into every groove and crevasse of my fingers. I decided to call him Mikel “Mick the moth.” I set him on the table and go outside to have a cigar and unwind a bit more. While I’m outside, I it’s calm. After a few minutes I noticed another moth on me. Within 2 minutes I am surrounded by about 2 dozen of them. I didn’t know if I should be weirded out, amazed, or what? The cigar smoke got them to stop landing on my head and upper body. I turned on the light by the door to draw them away from me. I watched still curious about the moth magnet I seemed to turn into. I went inside and decided to take a shower. I knew the nights dreams would be bringing me more visitors.

I found myself visiting a land that was familiar but new. I was at the home of my maternal grandparents. However, where there used to be a parking lot of an industrial area across the end of the yard through the plum grove, now there was a muddy river. A narrow muddy crossing let through the river to a clearing in a dense overgrown forest of oak, maple, birch, and sumac. It was autumn because the leaves were turned color and on the ground was a thick blanket of fallen leaves. I came to a series of homes in the trees. They were falling to ruin. Some walls had been completely fallen. Floors were heavily damaged and the ceilings had holes and the squirrels and birds have been nesting in them. What was odd, was there was electricity still and working appliances. I was realizing that I wasn’t alone. More of my maternal family was there. This was the homes in Godfrey Ontario, but they were destroyed by fire, time, and the elements. My cousins, aunts, and uncles were there with me. We were sitting at a busted old table eating leftover Chinese food. That’s when I noticed that both my aunt who passed away last year, and my uncle who passed when I was a child were there with us. Nobody saw them but me. They saw me. My uncle Lorne just walked by me and put his hand on my shoulder giving a little squeeze and gentle pat. My aunt Pauline smiled and came to me and kissed my forehead and smiled. I realized I was a child again. Sitting and watching one of our frequent gatherings. People drinking and playing horseshoes. I felt love and comfort. I woke with a tear falling down my face.

While I sat this morning processing this, I remember being told about the moths and butterflies being the spirits of our ancestors. That the moths came at night so they can talk to us in our dreams. I remembered the symbolism of them being growth or an emerging of a new self being. I know my maternal bloodline carols world magic. My grandmother had a similar ability to mine. She never shared because people would think she was crazy. Towpaths end, they wrote it off as dementia and it took its toll. I’m glad though, today so many are awakening to a renewed sense of old tradition. Natural ways of thought. Returning to their roots. While I can’t tell my Aunt Karen or Uncle Jim about their spouses visiting, I can take comfort in knowing their spirits are still with them.

S.O.