When I was thirteen or so, maybe fourteen, I combed through my copy of Roget's Thesaurus highlighting the words that inspired me, words like 'wretch' and 'talisman'.
At one point it seems I wrote some out.
I refound this card in a small box I've labelled "handwritten notes'. I sell them each for a buck in my shop. I tossed the note in there when I was clearing out my teen poetry a couple of years ago. (don't you worry, I saved some of it, the dazzling examples of purple jottings I'll wow you with one day).
I plucked this one out again because as I get older I realize that the important things for my well being are things I was inspired by before sex drugs and rock-n-roll came and ruined everything.
If I am to move towards wholeness and healing I am going to have to make a clearer space in my being for magic and spirituality. And that includes the darker aspects of things as well as the rainbow light.
When I was fifteen I acquired my magic name. I associated it with some weird abstract art I had begun to make. It then got associated with some ufo saint iconography I developed. As well as asemic languages.
Lately, I feel I have to explore my personal faith a bit deeper. It entails trying to reach out to this imagery, much of it scary as hell. It means accepting that I am able to access shadow realms. It means proudly delving into these realms and erecting a structure of odd shapes, weird creatures, unknown tongues. It means invocation of seemingly demonic forces. Oh well. Such is life.
I know these things/ languages/gestures aren't really demonic. They are shadowy, though, and kinda heavy. But I like them, they are familiar. They are kinda metal and kinda D&D and kinda me. It's ok to serve Chaos. It's ok to delve into shadow. It's ok to snark at oneself and smirk at the whole world. It's ok to scream and laugh and cry. It's ok to not know. It's ok to have allies that would scare the shit out of you if they walked into the room.
Blessings to all