Fine, More on the Woo-Woo Crap

Okay, well, for starters, Mack cleared me off a great spot out back behind his little cabin.  I had four candles–one in each direction–and just some stuff I thought I’d need, maybe.  I spent a lot of time collecting herbs to burn to induce visions but I couldn’t get them lit, so it was just me and the white sage.

I marked off a circle with flour I’d infused with red clover, rosehips, and lavender.  Then I smudged the circle with sage and went in and sat down.

For me, the experience is like trying to tune in a distant radio station.  Sometimes, it comes in so clearly that it’s all you can hear.  Sometimes you can barely hear it above the static.  And sometimes you can’t get the radio station you normally listen to to stop bleeding through.

Last night, like I said, was both really weird and very ordinary.  I didn’t feel like I was able to get over there very easily and the things I saw when I was over there were not easy for me to put meaning to.  I saw a cow.  I saw over and over again clear paths.  And I kept seeing Nashville at dusk, as if I were standing at right about Trinity Lane, but high in the air.  Over and over I saw that, the city to the south spread out before me.  And I couldn’t get the song “High Hopes” out of my head.

The other thing I felt was that the woods was full of Klansmen.  Old, dead Klansmen, but there they were, watching from the woods, with mild interest in what I was doing and a grudging respect for the man working the land now.

I don’t know if they were literally Klansmen, obviously.  It’s hard to know how literally to take those kinds of feelings.  But I felt like they were, in general, not inclined to like the man who lived there and wouldn’t have liked him under other circumstances, but his working the land commanded their respect.

I also felt like Mack was watching me, sitting on the metal couch outside the circle, just watching.  Or someone with an energy like his.

I left amber as an offering to my folks.  I meant to toss it into the creek, but I forgot, so it’s just in the yard.  I left nine pennies on the doorframe as an offering to the folks associated with Mack.

I think I told y’all how I’ve been trying to remember to drop pennies when I feel like my luck has been especially good, as a way of acknowledging and spreading my good fortune?

I wanted to do that for that place.

I have to say that the table in the kitchen of the cabin is so unbelievable.  I can’t even begin to express to you how good it feels to sit at that table.  I want to get some chicks together–Newscoma, Lynnster, Coble, Rachel, the Playwright, the Recovering Baptist, NM, Ivy, etc.,– anyone who wants to make the trip and I want to set them at that table, with food and beverages and just see what happens.

It is the kind of table made for women to sit around and eat and laugh and talk.  It’s incredible.  I should have asked Mack where it came from.

I will ask him tomorrow.

That’s a table that must have a hell of a story.

10 thoughts on “Fine, More on the Woo-Woo Crap

  1. FYI, there came a time when it was necessary to thin the woods. Some of the trees felled provided some great raw material. That table was constructed from trees felled in the West Coyote Run. It is a great table, and I am looking forward to a time when there is a preponderance of female energy around it, even if the agenda is plotting my demise….seems like a good trade. Set the date, ladies, and I will clean the entire cabin top to bottom, sprinkle pou pouri generously throughout, and stock up on fruit and blueberry muffins.

  2. Heck, yes, Ginger. Of course. Who else is going to help me plot my revenge against Mack?

    Mack, god. What a great table! Will you make the blueberry muffins? And will there be tamales?

  3. I would be greatly pleased to be at that table. I’d like to cook something to put on it, too. That’s my way of contributing to good energy.

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