Had a lovely meditation with Heru yesterday evening after giving offerings. I don’t have all the words to describe what he had to show me, but it was all about love, offerings, and relationship. The offerings, and the love they are shared with, are what makes the statue no longer just a statue, the altar no longer just an altar. I poured chocolate raspberry tea in the chalice, and blew shisha smoke into it to create this lovely dramatic steaming brew and offered it. I stroked the statues with oil and water and put tea on their lips. I filled the altars surface with shisha smoke until it glowed otherworldly in the candlelight. I lit incense and placed the flaming sticks in front of my gods, so I could imagine them inhaling the flame as it went down to a smoky smoulder. I poured tea and blew smoke over my pentacle, and as I rang the bell over it, I willed my offerings to create something larger and more sustaining, a temple where tea and fragrant smoke never run out. I gave this to them, in love, and in return received a strengthening of feeling of Presence. This act, this physical, tangible ritual of giving, made the spirits and gods themselves more tangible in my mind. I treated the statues like real, living beings. I didn’t simply place the offerings on the altar and say a few words and walk away. There was fantasy involved, imagination that took hold until it became real. That is a real way of working with the gods and spirits. Our belief strengthens them and our connection to them. So be dramatic. Light all the candles and smoke up the room and enjoy wine and smoke with them and be sensual! Touch the statues and clothe them and care for them as you would if they were real, and they will be. Allies are power. And they are earned.

Sons of Heru, and the Ladies of the Portals

Taken from my old book – this I wish to keep, so into the new book they go. My current book I created to reflect the influence of the traditional training I’ve had the privilege of receiving these past two years. Some things I grew away from, many, in fact. That’s what time does. My coven’s quarter guardians differ from mine, and are oathbound, but my personal practice has become a wonderful amalgamation of things that makes my heart sing of truth.

Sun and priestess, out again 

I got a lot done tonight. I wrote of Saturn in the 12 houses, her zodiac signs, angels, demons, and spirits, tarot cards, and geomantic figures.  All the information I’ve received from my elders in the past few months and my own upg.  I let Capricorn and Aquarius whisper in my ear, and thus my work was practical, yet flavored with flights of fancy. This is my divination book, which I titled this evening, The Fool’s Journey, below which I scrawled a plea to Elephant to guide me in wisdom and memory, strength and resilience, power and love.  For the moment I feel I have a handle on things, and I’m ready to move on to our study of Jupiter.

I also spent time with my book of shadows, adding notes on the cards and a page about the four sons of Heru, and the divine Ladies who keep the canopic jars and the directions. Though I cannot find a consensus as to the elements and directions these beings rule, and our geography differs greatly from where they originate, my intuition tells me they approve of our arrangement, so I am happy.

My elements page

I feel the need to make a page for my tools next. 

The athame is air, to know. To know your path, to take it and form it. Thus it forms for you the circle, sigils, and other such thought forms.

The wand is fire, to will. To know your true will is to know your desire. Thus the wand invokes what you desire, as it beckons the spirits and gods like a torch cutting through the darkness, warming and welcoming in its light.

The cup is water, to dare. To take what you truly desire, to have that sort of love for yourself, is one of the main things I feel sets us apart. Witches don’t have room for original sin. We are fallen yes, and yet we are holy, beautiful, powerful, and loved. We are not God’s mistake. We brazenly drink it in, in wine, water, and potions.

The paten is earth, to keep silent. To simply be. This is the place, the culmination of the others, where the magick is made. This is the place of manifestation, the place where we, as the divine beings we are, create. The center of power for the microcosm of our altars, awash in candlelight and ecstasy.


I went to the grocery store on the south side, where I can always count on finding seven day candles (and a great selection of herbs) thanks to our Mexican Catholic population. The cashier asked if they were scented, and remarked that she sure did sell a lot of those funny jar candles. I failed to enlighten her. So now I have elemental candles in addition to my more natural representions (a shell, stone, pinecone, and gold ring) and my four canopic jars. 

And there’s a snakeskin my son’s pet shared with me – thanks, Waldo. Since I’ve just undergone my last microneedling treatment in order to improve the acne scarring on my face, and I will soon literally be shedding my skin, this will be helpful in a working to help that along. (Think the scene from The Craft, where Bonnie chants, “take my scars, take my scars.”)

Not pictured is the letter I’m about to write to the angel of Jupiter, on this, Jupiter’s blessed day, asking for help in healing.

Lovely additions to my altar, all.