Today’s messages 12/2/2020

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.

Samhain 2020

Blue moon October 31, 2020

Its hard to believe that so many this year missed out on all the fun of this sacred holiday. To me, Samhain has always been the most important day. Its the day to honor ancestors. Speak with so many on the other side. As a child the joy of dressing up and going out to get candy and carve jack o lanterns were the highlight of the year. I don’t get anyone coming to my door anymore. A neighborhood full of kids and nobody comes knocking. They have over sanitized my favorite day. This year was even worse with the covid-19 pandemic. everyone kept away out of fear. fear peddled by so many sides. Yes we need to be cautious, but there are measures easily taken that allow everyone to still carry on tradition.

Last night we had a blue moon on top of everything. a great beautiful moon lighting up the sky. The clouds painted pictures in her light. Waves of sandy dunes and great spans of sea were appearing in the sky. Demon faces of the giants would peer out as well. While I had no false spirits come for treats, I did get plenty of visitors at my fire. While shadows danced on the ground I sat under my tree watching it breathe. Dragons appeared in the sky. some so big they blocked out the moon from time to time. A great eye appeared looking down on us. I asked what it was looking for. I gave in to the energy and allowed things to channel through me. An old man with crutches appeared and told the story of how he has yet to be seen by the gods. His honor and bravery was no less than any other warrior, but he had one more thing to prove. He spat on the ground and cursed those who betrayed him. Another woman showed up dancing and singing. she carried the small pug like it was her baby. Whispering sweet words of joy and love. Another strong spirit showed up asking for ale. it had been too long since his lips were wet. He had been thirsty for years. In between the drop in visits from beyond this realm, I would notice things that were making me question what there was to the night. All of this was amazing, and I was filled with energy I had not had in a while. This was all cut short with the loud violent noise of a gunshot. It snapped me back into my own body. the animals hid trembling. the next block over someone shot a gun and sped off in a vehicle. There was a multi car crash down by one of the main intersections. I violent and unsettling end for my night. I felt robbed of my journey.

Having to be a vigilant member of the community means I need to ensure safety for others. I have to report the events and make sure nobody gets harmed. I don’t understand why so many sit back and default to a feeling like its not their problem. The indifference is appalling at times. It stirs dark feelings in me. I could cast down curses to make it unwise for them to ignore, but I truly live by the harm none rule. Ego tells me to live up to my warrior blood and bring justice, but what does that really do? blood for blood just makes a bloody mess of everything. Instead I do my civic duty and report it to the authorities for them to investigate, then I send prayers to the gods that no more get hurt. I send my offerings into the fire. mead, ale, whiskey, tobacco, flowers, and food. I set out sweets for the fae or other spirits to know that I honor them as well. I let the magic of the night absorb back to the ground. I put to bed my gardens and will let them sleep for the winter. We will await the spring to come and be reborn.

As the last embers fade in my fire I thank the elements and the spirits for blessing my circle. I thank them for the knowledge they shared. I lay a kiss on the ground to the mother earth and thank her for her love and gifts. I go to bed, and sleep peacefully. No visions to translate. No restlessness from something trying to get through still. Just calm, and peaceful sleep. Not often am I blessed with these gifts.

This morning I woke back to the feeling of fear and anxiety that’s been plaguing so many. Instead of feeding into it I am starting this new year with prayers and songs to bring about a more harmonious future. I wont waste my time dealing with other people problems. I will sit in my work space and create. The virus is still out there. The ignorance and hate is still out there. we will just have to find ways to live around it.

I leave you with this message. If you want change in the world, avoid social media. starve the demons that plague us, and feed the healthy thoughts that will heal the world. Start in your own home. Start at your front door. start in your front yard. That is how change is made. small steps that we can make on our own. the overused saying of “be the change” rings true still. Be kind to your neighbors.

Blessings and love to you all.


A writer and his dogs

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.


My Voice

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. 

The stink bug and the Valkyrie

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. 

Like a moth to a flame

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.


Shadows on the kingdom

Last night again I traveled to my home which I now think is my hall where I will go when I die. I saw many family there. there’s a great lake outside. pools in the hall as well as on the property. hot tubs, fountains, grand kitchens to prepare meals for large amounts of people. large rooms. in there a saw not only my one daughterbut her ex-boyfriend. He kept trying to win her back, but he had not changed. He was still possessive and insecure. Always blaming everyone else for why things don’t work out.

I saw another young woman with my daughter. Playing in the water, but trying not to be seen by this boy. There’s a female doctor in the hall who keeps trying to find a place to settle. A named Cody trying to run on the rocks along the edge of the waterfront, but the rocks fall and sink into the water with each step. He barely makes it to safety, but when he does, he disappears. Gone from the place completely. I hear the girls chanting “go Cody. Go Cody”

I wake up. Now unsettled. I pray to Freyja that she can tell me these are just my fears manifested in my sub conscious, and not showing me the horrible nightmare I fear to become reality.


25 years ago at a lake I nearly drowned. I can still feel the water burning sensation on the back of my nasal cavity. I smell the algae that was blooming on the lake. I hear the music playing from the portable radio on shore. I was trying to get a stone I saw shimmering about ten foot below me. It got lost though as someone tried to be funny and yanked my foot up towards the surface while I was going down. The sudden change in direction surged water in my nose. I swam to the surface as quick as I could, but water had already got into my lungs. Friends laughed thinking they scared me, but I was too busy coughing up water that got to my lungs.

I went to shore as fast as I could and spent about 15 minutes on my hands and knees coughing trying to clear my lungs. While I was doing that I noticed the light changed around me as well as the sounds. The laughing faded off to a distance, and up front was familiar sound of a raven calling. For a brief moment I thought that it was an odd phenomenon. Finally the friend who grabbed my foot realized I was in a rough spot and came up to check on me. “You ok? I didn’t mean to startle ya. Do you need anything?” I I shook my head and waved my hand signaling I would be fine. I started to breathe easier and I explained what happened. He felt bad, but we really laughed about it in the end.

A short while later I got one of my migraines. It was a bag one considering on top of it I was having an allergic reaction to some of the algae that was still in my nasal cavity. My eyes were red and swollen. My lungs still hurt from all the coughing. We had no air conditioning and it was very humid in our area. I took some Benadryl as well as some Tylenol and tried to lay down. It took a while to fall asleep, but I still remember the dream.

I was with a small clan of people. We were preparing for winter. Getting the last of the dimmer crops in and storing feed for the livestock. There was a fear of raiders coming. For d sad one reason our elders were talking of a band of men coming to raid our lands. Something to do with the visions of one of the elder women. they decided we needed a sentinel to protect the village. I was pulled into one of the homes and asked if I would stand watch. I was told it was a great honor. I agreed and was given a drink. I assumed it was a celebratory ale, but it tasted bitter and sweet all at once. I coughed and started to burn a bit. The air went icy around me as a sudden fever took me. Suddenly I was high in the sky, soaring over the land. I could see clear in the dark. I realized I had become a bird. This was the first time I remember becoming the snowy owl. I landed in a tree looking out over the moonlit fields. As the sun came up I became restless and suddenly I was back in my bed. Back in my own home. Back to human form. Then I woke up from the dream. Still listening to the birds outside my tent. The sun was coming up and I stepped out to the dew covered grass. I took a breath and thought how odd the dream was. Then a mourning dove flew from the ground to a tree branch overhead. I knew I felt different again. Like something else was awake inside of me. I felt renewed and more connected.

I’m sure that was when I became Snowy Owl.


Sandbags and pitchforks

I spend a lot of time on my own. I don’t like to spend a lot of time with people. They are fragile, in a sense that they can’t understand the quantum realities that I tend to see and travel through. I don’t turn it off or on. I am always in that state. I just have to spend more energy to focus on one. Lately I notice that there are more people missing those who have left. They miss their old life and the ability to have connection. It causes them to feel unwell, or unbalanced. This is a natural phenomenon that happens with seclusion. Here in America, it’s amplified by different forms of media. Fear, hate, conspiracy, are spread like a wildfire in a dry prairie during a windstorm. People get misinformation, half truths, and third hand facts. It’s an election year, and like never before, people question the strength of their voice. They try to make things better with big broad stroke decisions. Nobody takes the time to pay attention to details. No one pays attention to body language or habitual behavior. Everyone starts calling names and throwing stones. Everyone ends up losing regardless of who tries to claim victory.

I recently decided to step away from all the chaos. I’ve been spending my time listening to what’s being said in the other realms. Watching the tales unfold, i try to see the patterns. Lately it seems inevitable that there are much darker days ahead. Instead of focusing on all light all the time, I start looking in the shadows. In the dark corners to see what’s coming. In preparation I start building my “Arsenal” of tools. Consulting the ancestors as well as the gods. Odin appears frequently to keep me on track. The Instagram witches, DIY yogis, and ramen shamans seem to focus still on the self help shinola. This will not help for what is to come. People need to wake up from the convenience lifestyle and focus on fundamental survival. We have gotten so far from nature that we forget that we as humans are ourselves just animals. We need food, shelter, safety, and a pack. Rather than being cattle here to feed the power hungry, be the wild animal. Be the hunter that works in its microsystem to keep it healthy and prosperous. Worrying about other Tribes in far off lands, focus where you can help. Work with your neighbors to create a symbiotic relationship. Maybe you only garden and grow fruits and vegetables, but your neighbor hunts, or raises livestock. Work together to fill the needs. If your unable to build a fence enlist those who can, and provide something to them in return. It’s simple things that everyone thinks they do already, but instead they do everything through amazon and Walmart. Again feeding the rich and powerful, keeping themselves under the oppressive weight of the corporate machine.

Take some time to look around your front door. What will truly improve things? Is it another video game or smart device? I doubt that will improve anything other than your own sense of convenience. Thin the overgrowth that’s suffocating the area. Feed and nourish the gardens. Feed the birds and bees to help pollination. Pick up the garbage around the road by your home. Bolster up fences. Plant trees to provide shelter and help with erosion. Help your neighbor clear the gutters so they don’t have to worry about water damage to their roof prematurely. Recycle, reuse items that take up space in landfills. Don’t worry about going to another country to aid their efforts. Focus on your own back yard.

make sure you are able to keep yourself and your loved ones safe from the coming storm. Stop being lazy. You’re only as safe as long as you can run, swim, or fight. No matter what you do to be aware and prepared, do it with an open mind and open heart. The us versus them mentality doesn’t help anyone. We are all the same. We are all on this rock, and being ignorant to that does nothing to help you improve anything for your future.

just so you know this isn’t a “love and light” post. It’s a slap in the back of the head wake up call. It’s not a matter of if shit hits the fan, but when. The world is full of ignorance and hatred. People who think it’s such a great thing to laugh at people losing their shit. People who troll and bully everyone online, because it makes them feel in control or secure. Fear is used by a tool of those who are weak and have no true power of their own. They are only powerful if you give them your power. The Christian fear mongers can’t have it both ways. They can’t say we’re all gods creatures and turn around to condemn mass groups who don’t fall in line with their thinking. They can’t be pro life but then disregard scientific proven facts of how they are spreading diseases by not following safety protocols. I know damn well they are not going to help heal anything. They breed like mice. They overpopulate and devastate resources exponentially. I am not inciting any wars, but I will not back down. I am after all from a Norse-Celtic heritage and battle is in my blood. If I go down, I will take a piece of you with me. I am telling everyone to realize that things are at high pressure, and if we don’t tend to the problems now then the levee will break. We can not continue this unbalanced lifestyle. Let’s prevent the train wreck instead of just watching it and sharing it on social media.