The Witch Wagon’s Magickal Mystery Tour

The Witch Wagon’s Magickal Mystery Tour

Offering One:

When we are young, I believe we often know exactly what the path before us will reveal, and although sometimes we manage to lose our way amidst the wonders and challenges of attempting to do what is expected and viewed as the correct road, there might still be a version of that path still recoverable depending upon our determination to find our original footprints once more. Returning to a journey begun and then interrupted often requires summoning courage we didn’t realize existed within us and the will to rearrange matter if it comes to that. Perhaps the path less traveled was the one quietly awaiting those who would remember it was there.
This is a little story of working with the available resources around us, and of letting go of the ‘what ifs’ in life as most often they prove to be baggage and not wisdom. In the end, of figuring out we are not only responsible for ourselves and our own actions, but the ripples we create and affect others around we never considered as well. Most importantly, this is a story of rediscovering the most important of lessons that were laid before us but lost in the simplicity and uncomplicated they had contained.
The universe offered me a reawakening just few short weeks ago which now seems much like having been scooped up with a chunk of life at some distant crossroads in that forest where none of us would hear the proverbial tree fall. Thoughts and feelings of disbelief, freedom, chaos, joy, absurdity, regret, release, being cornered and labeled, bravely protesting the odds; these were just a few of effects any transition presents that becomes the threads from which the fabric of a new journey began. I had about ten days to deal with them all in total.
As I acknowledge my recent life change; hereto referred to as my new ‘Gypsy Life’, the continuation of a magickal journey and the gleaning of all lessons learned and wisdom passed. I have also acknowledged that in order to fully embrace the future ahead, it was and will continue to be necessary to reexamine the past as this journal of my future will most likely reveal. Balancing the past and the present is no slight challenge. Without it however, there can be no fulfilled future.
I should mention at this point that the title chosen for this quest honors both my family’s gypsy living style heritage, pays homage to a favorite Beatles song “The Magical Mystery Tour”, simply best describes my new world that works for me. I am taking the opportunity to perhaps offer a tip or two that has been gleaned from choosing a new way to live to the fullest on the chance it might be helpful to another. As every life is unique, so is every journey. In truth, this little chronicle will be something left behind that will perhaps uproot a giggle here or there, even convey my improbable joy at having finally found something I had longed and searched for in my younger years that had been given up in hopes of ever finding.
Naming these offerings The Magickal Mystery Tour would for some, pretty much sets the stage for what will follow. It does not follow that the future of this or any other journey can be predicted or expected. Those who understand the ways of the forces within the Universe also know that this is a part of the ‘mystery’. Yes, I am a Witch, neither ugly nor evil. I look, most of time act, and walk and talk like any other mortal on Middle Earth. I’ve made the same amount of mistakes as many of us have, learned as many lessons, desire a world that lives in peace and harmony with the earth.
Now for that bit of back story always seems to lend substance to any tale worth telling, and the art of storytelling evolves and becomes more interesting as it progresses, as I hope this one will as well. It always must include tales of the past as well. That having been said, if you manage to stay the course through the next few paragraphs, perhaps you will choose here and there to join us again to see how the journey unfolds.
For my part, I began my magickal life as a small child that was cloaked within a spiritual upbringing which would tolerate some of my mother’s beliefs not fashionable or that socially acceptable in the 1950’s. However, I will say now that my mother was so adept at weaving the magickal with the mundane that I made it all the way to college before understanding the rest of the world considered some of us ‘strange and unusual’, which you should know, I can now say I consider a compliment. My father’s work for lack of a suitable title in the day had us living a Gypsy lifestyle for the entirety of our family life together. I loved the magickal part of my life as it was natural and usually always produced positive results. The Gypsy living part; not so much even though I would come to find it was as inherent a part of me as my lineage or my chromosomes. It did however provide a comfortable living for our family, and we were loved. This is what truly mattered.
As an adult, I chose to pursue a career that both allowed me to share the healing knowledge that had been passed on to me and to find ‘my people’ (as my friend once put it), and I set out in sincerity to meld two worlds of belief and science that would work simultaneously together for the good of all. Surely some of my own kind then must have chosen this path. I would finally settle down in a more ‘normal’ life style, one which would allow me the means and time to also pursue my artistic passions as well. Such is the stardust of dreams.
I entered the profession of nursing having decided this would be the place. It seemed at the time the perfect algorithm to where I wanted to move. After all, it had been logically thought out and even verified after having taken a job as a nurse’s aide to qualify for the program when I found caring for those who were in need was fulfilling and somewhat of a challenging adventure. I, like most of us who charge into the future full of the zest and vigor of youth were ready to change the world!
Note: I will skip to a note I was saving until the end of my journal: We Cardinal Earth energies who actually are in part or whole walking ‘algorithms’, like everyone else, create change in the smaller world that surrounds us which is perfectly fine as long as it is mostly positive change. Very few of us are nominated for Nobel Prizes, work that is cherished for centuries, or any of my other childhood fantasies. And that is okay.
This world and existence measured in life times is full of obstacles, windows of opportunity that appeared to be signs of correct choices, the usual trials and rewards that we are presented. It may take more than one state of existence to cover all the ground we dreamed as children. This too is okay as well.
Continuing on, I like many around me, subconsciously and/or dutifully traded my childhood fantasies, hopes and dreams for a shot at normalcy as was expected of our generation. I did not have the wisdom or tenacity to succeed in melding the magickal healing arts with those of the accepted norm in my two decades of healthcare, as like my parents generation, it was not to be considered. Like the generations of magickal folks that have crossed the Veil, we worked silently and behind the scenes.
As far as my two successful and rewarding decades in healthcare went, I now must admit that I did not process the experience and strength to be able to fuse two forms of art and science together in my twenties, even if it would have been tolerated, which it wasn’t, and I had to make a choice to embrace one or the other if I was to remain on this path. Or at least it felt so at the time. I now know many years later, the two worlds I thought they were then could have been fused. It is change, and all things are possible with belief. I hope that changes as time moves forward. Perhaps it was neither the time nor I the person to accomplish anything other than that which I did. Everything happens as it was supposed to however, and my experience shaped and prepared me for different ones further down the road. It is possible I needed to lose and then recover a part of myself to be able when it was time to identify what was really important to me. All that is certain for me now is that I view the world in a totally different way, and I am most pleased with that, it is a good feeling.
As for the ‘Normal life’ thing; I am not sure we need use that term anymore. We have evolved and ‘normal’ wears many hats these days. I wish this lesson had come earlier in life, but all good things happen in their own time. I have made peace with myself that the first time I viewed a deadly pathogen through a microscope, the magickal powers I possessed as a child began to seek a place of forgetfulness deep within me as I accepted the ‘new wisdom’ as universal law. And that would decades before the ‘magick’ me would reawaken and I would find my people. I found a life tribe that I never believed I would, new family with which to evolve some more.
Now to the beginning of my personal Magickal Mystery Tour…
About a year ago both an epiphany and yet another personal ‘life algorithm’ collided with one another whilst I was attempting to do some mundane house maintenance of some kind or another. The result of which was that the time had come to downsize my world on all levels; physical, mental, influential, all the forces that surrounded me. As with many great ideas and plans we form in our minds and write on sticky notes or ‘to do’ lists, it would be some time before I would get the message not having been received lit up in neon lights. There are always places to be, people who need you, dreams to dream, and deadlines to meet.
My new life dreams would reveal (or resurrect themselves), and then in a very different sort of light it became necessary to address the mountains of ‘stuff’ in my garage, affectionately referred to as the Abyss; the distant hills in my head that represented my regrets, and to totally objectively lay out my mental/physical/financial/spiritual/practical assets.
Having fortified myself with a bundle of Sage and a cup of very strong coffee, I crossed the threshold of garage door to stand facing decades of hoarded memorabilia I had cared for decades. It seemed more logical then to begin with tangible Items that I believed held some sort of sentimental value be it real or imaginary. There were before me piles and boxes of physical representations that were in reality mental concepts that held some mystical future purpose that had yet to be revealed; most likely, never would be in this lifetime. I had habitually over the years rented abode after abode with attached garages, not to actually house my car, but to shin which to shelter boxes and boxes of pictures that would never become the albums I had wished them to be when there was never time to make it happen, bits of pink plastic from my married daughter’s childhood, patched up and even broken items that had meant something to my parents as well as items belonging to relatives who had passed who had probably forgotten about them even in life. I dare say petrified bodies of spiders and scorpions who age I will never recall. I thought it my duty to keep what physical energies that was my family alive. My two car garage was always filled with things I hadn’t seen for years and years that were somehow waiting for me to provide them with a new life as I had teased them about having a ‘someday’. Surprise! Someday arrived, just not in the package I had planned yet again.
Too overwhelmed to continue on my quest into the past just yet, I closed the door and turned to face the 1275 square feet of house filled with the things I actually valued enough to want to have in my world each day, and realized that minus all the actual empty space in between the physical items on wall, in drawers and closets, there was about 825 square feet of wasted space/or quantum potential going to waste I wasn’t tapping into requiring at least daily mundane maintenance that was soaking up the time and energy I could be using on writing, my magickal work and endeavors, meditation, and many other things there never seemed to be enough time to work in everyday. That damned epiphany was screaming at me again. Okay! I got it. Enough is enough and it is time to make a change.
I began exploring smaller space living in several cultures. The simplicity of flowing energy and minimalism. The ‘tiny house movement’ in progress as well as other alternative lifestyles that would allow me to not be owned by the space I wasn’t really using, and began pondering how much more rewarding the precious moments of life could be for me if a life style transition could be manifested. Trusting to Spirit and putting off the actually addressing available finances and inner worldly demands that would most likely puke all over what I would decide I wanted anyway, it was time to work from the physical restraints outward. Oh my, would I ever cease creating algorithms and complicating the crap out of something that should just be what has to be? Probably not. I accepted this trait was inherited from my father, so forgave and forgot the question.
I returned to the Abyss shortly thereafter, that time as an experiment to research what really mattered to me without the perceived social obligation I felt to be the caretaker of anything ‘family’. This was most uncomfortable and difficult for me. You should know I believe the Universe invented the glue gun so that everything can be saved and kept, and scratches, scrapes, scars and missing parts are just character and life’s way of adding patina to an object. Oh my, huh?
When I drew the yellowing box that contained a beloved pet’s ashes that had always been one of the very first things I packed each and every move for twenty years while awaiting the expectant permanent home that had yet to find, I realized there would be little in my garage that needed to remain with me, and much that needed to be redistributed in some way or another. It was not fair to me to keep restrained the energies that needed now so much to be released. As difficult as it would be, the time had come to separate what was totally precious to me alone, redistribute what was to others, give away what was still usable and could become something cherished for another, and to hire the dump truck to take away fifty percent of the garage that qualified as none of the above.
In practicality, Shadow (whose ashes had already awaited two decades with me to find what we could call ‘home) and I would never have the piece of land I planned to bury her on due to circumstances beyond my control, Karmic debt, whatever you will call it. There would in all likelihood, never be that rosebush and a chaise adjacent to it so that we might have long afternoon conversations we didn’t make or have time for in this lifetime. She should have buried with the most recent of my beloved fur kids in the yard with her own cover stone, as were they since I had realized recently it was the memories and love that counted, not attempting to bring to fruition a dream that belonged only to me.
So, amidst many tears, I made my apologies and buried her ashes as I informed all my beloveds that we would meet again on the Rainbow Bridge. I realized my fur kids had been a part of the process that brought me one step closer to where I needed to be in addition to being the loves of my life and bringing joy to my family and to each other. I had to keep moving. The wind literally was at my back this time around, and would use that strength to augment my own.
In the midst of my reworking my world, the house I was renting went up for sale just by mutual agreement just before I was to travel to join with my life tribe. Timing after all really is everything. I did what I could before traveling cross country and I returned expecting to have time to finish my debunking of ‘baggage’ to find the house had sold and there was two weeks to rock my world in reality.
The Bucket List I had begun after laying my precious Shadow to rest in the tortoise habitat with the rest of her fur family had now turned into Column A and Column B.
A: Vacating the house no matter what it took. Eight days to move, two to clean.
B: Manifesting somehow a new world for my remaining fur kids within a seemingly impossible timeline.
Both were equally unlikely considering some surrounding circumstances, but here is where I realized why I had become adept at triaging patients. I just needed to rewrite the paradigm. Spirit would need to be at my back, and obviously was for what laid ahead which were some very creative solutions I story boarded on walls and worked to death in my dreams. It was most definitely the time to merge Belief, Will, and Action with a side of Divine Intervention and seemed for a few days I was somehow signing up for a reality show where my endurance would be tested to its limits.
I stood in front of where my altar once stood in the twelve by twelve foot ritual room containing so many lovely memories that had been taken down on request of the real estate agent who had asked me to ‘take it down a bit’ which translated into get rid of all things not ‘normal’. Only my altar was now a single stone which followed me around the house attempting to tell me that having space to even work in my magical world was going to have to be reduced to just what was needed, as the physical in this realm too must change. I had learned we need only our minds to worship, pray, speak our hopes and fears. The stone had become an item of comfort I did not wish to part from.
For merely a way to release stress, I allowed myself one night to throw myself a Pity Party before getting down to business. It was day #8, and one dump truck had not been enough, even at $250 plus tip. Most of the charities didn’t have scheduled pickups left in my timeframe and were narrowing the items they were accepting. The abyss still looked like one.
I had just relocated my tortoise to his new home (although with tears of joy), said goodbye to two fur kids I was fostering, I hurt as one sixty-two year old and two seventy year old women dragged and loaded over the wall one hundred and fifteen double and triple cement bricks to house some tortoise hatchlings (you do what you have to do), as well as I had just finished reviewing what I had to work with. I ate a pound of chocolate followed by a bunch of allergy medicine as a chaser and cried myself to sleep, apologizing to Spirit the entire time. I awoke, thanks to the forces of the Universe ready to take on the world and finish the task at hand. Two days left including cleaning. With some help from my kids, this was accomplished.
Maslow’s list of mortal needs must always be acknowledged. Shelter first: What I would spend on utilities and rent and such for 28 months worked out to be exactly the cost of a 23 foot camper trailer which had been reduced and was sitting on the lot at an RV dealer up the road. Don’t laugh! It was not the Tiny Little House made of wood with the loft bedroom I had decided to love, but 207 square feet of totally well thought out space which included a ‘bunk bed’ set up at the opposite end of the bedroom which would become the kitty habitat none the less. Thanks to my kids again, who originally could not visualize me in a travel trailer or even changing out a propane tank on my own, the beginning of a dream was accomplished in an evening when we came to the conclusion together that we would trust this avenue was doable. In the frame of about twenty minutes of paperwork and some serious tachycardia, I joined the tiny house movement in progress
Note: Nothing is as easy as it is made to appear in advertisements. The challenges that follow a seemingly simple choice will be myriad, even when you are sure you made the correct decision. A sense of humor is mandatory, and you have to immediately choose to be grateful and love and enjoy what you have in order for it all to work out.
Having purchased the vehicle without the eight horses of power or two Unicorns with which to pull it, the real work ahead began to present itself. Where to pull it for a time to learn to live off the grid? Who owned a vehicle for the first move? How brave does one want to be given the choice of living on or off the grid?
It would turn out unless you owned land far enough away from neighbors you couldn’t run a noisy generator which would require more fuel than paying for electricity set down in a park, not to mention the hauling of propane tanks and pulling the thing for waste dumps and water fill ups. I was going to join a friend with room so we could have mutual company, but it would turn out the power company had made a new rule about how much energy could supply square footage, and there was still the issue of propane refills and waste dumps. You can’t travel or pull a vehicle in the desert heat with pets inside as you can’t run a generator whilst traveling. The list went on and on.
The two nights I spent on the RV sales lot loading what I could into the RV before pulling it to the spot forty miles outside of Las Vegas did not prepare me for even quasi off the grid living. The cats made it very clear that they missed the other thousand square feet of space that had suddenly been dissolved and would find ways to express their disdain. The newest of the kitties tore up the curtain liner in the bathroom and peeled all the sealant from the shower on night number one.
I would find that this type of a change would have been best done when time and physical constraints was not an issue, and if the move could have been done just a few bags and boxes at a time instead of having to dump half of what was left of my world in the little space there was to walk. But it was what it was and I was so excited to be on a new journey and have my little house and the freedom to move where I wanted without yearly leases that this time I cried myself to sleep in tears of joy the first few nights I slept in my new home. I even laughed hysterically when I fell over the boxes blocking the path to the bathroom in the middle of the night, having been lucky enough not to break anything, and the cats laughed back.
I spent a week realizing bringing pots and pans to a house with two burners and a microwave was a bit of overkill, as was the four tea pots and all my tea things. They however will remain if I have to get rid of clothing and food. Tough choices to store some food or dishes, clothes or magickal supplies in 207 square feet defied the blueprint. Toss the crock pot and keep the toaster instead? Could you store household items with the cat food and kitty litter? For that matter, could you store food over the ‘kitty habitat’ if it came to that, which it did?
The concept of what type of diet I would choose depended upon which way I went with the kitchen ware. Oddly enough, this was my first win/win situation. I am not the best baker, although I can cook. As there was no oven out went all utensils and baking ware to the garage sale pile for the neighbor as I would never be baking again. A great and long overdue release for me, and the tiny refrigerator that isn’t large enough to hold a standard cake and additional food anyway. We acknowledged my wise decision.
There was enough room for a few cleaning supplies (this was after all originally meant to be a camping trailer not a home sweet home) and some dishes, and two bins over the closet to store food stuffs in. Solution resolved. I just had to let go of my pots and pans on pickup day at the park in order to keep the tea things. Kitchen/Eating…done!
Having addressed shelter and food it was time to work on safety which also included making room for my magickal work. Fortunately a friendly Sherman Shepherd lives next door and most of the other homes our little wilderness community owns at least one pit bull. The Shepherd was friendly and with permission of her owner, I was allowed to buy her treats. Night barking upon my return solved.
I moved on to the altar and ritual space situation. The top of the mini closet which holds about twelve items on wire hangers is about ten inches by ten inches. My portable altar set up fit quite nicely and I stored my full sized items and supplies under the daybed couch for whenever there will be a time we can work outside. In all actually, since there will be little fancy cooking happening on the two burner stove, the little space there would originally held cooking herbs alone was filled with my magickal ones, which worked for me as well.
Sticky picture and towel holders don’t work on textured surfaces. Nails are not steadfast, and every wall that was suitable for a mirror or monitor screen had been chosen for wiring, smoke alarms, thermostats, whatever. The dealer did not have a schematic of the wiring system. I worked a spell, said a prayer, charged up the drill bit and cracked open a package of plugs. I was on a mission to make the place my own and magick would overcome my lack of electrical and engineering skills. Which it did!
Between drilling and pounding and hanging draw curtains I became adept at propane tanks, relighting pilot lights in the wind, leveling the vehicle which was sitting on dirt and not cement (so ‘settled’ often), and several other things I once would have decided I needed a man to do for me in days past. Not that any of my ex husbands or boyfriends were ever of any use when it came to any of these things. I was morphing into an RV Goddess! Life was good.
Some force I cannot explain, perhaps a way in which to express my joy at being once again on a path I felt to be my own, I went off the grid for a few days without the little house or the cats. Having placed them in the care of our family vet, I ventured up through the tip of Arizona, some of Colorado, and a chunk of Wyoming simply enjoying the elements, the visual beauty, the gifts Gaia offers us. I returned refreshed, renewed, having missed my little house, and most surprising of all five cats who after spending time in kitty condos at the vet were thrilled to be released into the 207 square feet once more. The attitude adjustment from the fur kids was just what the Goddess ordered for them as well.
But Spirit had much larger plans for me, not just that of becoming comfortable falling asleep to the sound of the coyotes at night and my bliss at having escaped for a bit the traffic and convenience of a twenty four hour town. I found the military base in the area bought out the other side of the little town’s highway which included the casino, restaurant, laundry facilities, food mart and gas station, and the motel in renovation. Pretty much, the part of the town I needed personally. Plan A had served its purpose of giving me time before moving back home to return at least looking somewhat competent to can handle my own RV in a proper park, and just as I was getting used to and working around the lack of most of my taken for granted amenities it was time to return to WYFI, laundry facilities, a clubhouse, and mail delivered daily and not twice a week to a P.O. Box. I will consider it a fair trade for the lack of gas and time spent driving for groceries and laundry services.
Again, timing is everything and I still have to figure out the eight horses or the two Unicorns to be totally a movable magickal gypsy life style, so I will need even more additional time to adapt. I now understand why the portable life style was a part of my childhood as it will totally compliment it being a part of my older years. Perhaps the white stone a river in Wyoming offered me of late is a part of the story to come as well, or the Raven who danced for me one morning before I returned. The time spent in boarding certainly rearranged the cat’s state of mind…the 207 square feet being so much larger than the kitty condos. They seemed overjoyed to be returned to their larger surroundings upon return, and still act as if they have found their state of ‘normal’. I
I am glad about much of that which we call mystery remains such until it is revealed. What better way to keep wondrous surprises safe until they become awe, or not so wondrous necessities from keeping us from living each day fully? I wouldn’t have been able to handle the thought or nightmares that moving three times in two months would have brought had I known this up front, I never would have thought of piling food in storage bins, I wouldn’t have learned how to reline a shower if not for a ticked off cat, and who what joy simplicity in living could offer…especially those once thought to be bothersome.
I am going to use the three weeks before the move to spiritually cleanse the entire place, finish letting go of what must be, and enjoying the fact the stars seem larger and brighter in the pristine desert. I’m sure at this point I will be spoiled by the returning amenities and will become a cross hybrid Gypsy/Snowbird from here on out. This was just the beginning of looking at what is with new eyes.
It will work out better for my spiritual family who will be doing less driving and we will be able to meet in person more often in person rather than over Face Time and renting ritual rooms from the magick stores for ritual. Another plus.
Spirit knew this would unfold and was just waiting for me to become comfortable with my new skills. It seems however, as quickly as I became comfortable; it was time to move on. It was perhaps here I embraced the fact that the Gypsy life I once did not enjoy so very much might be considered more of an adventure versus an inconvenience, as the sense of that adventure that always accompanied all of our childhood moves had returned. I realized ‘being on wheels’ was a sort of freedom never before enjoyed: I could keep my home and everything in even if it was moved to another state. Geography would never again interfere, but would become the next stage of a very familiar journey.
As I am readying the place for the next leg of our journey, let me just say I love being a part of the growing movement of tiny little homeowners who at least consider themselves ‘freer’ whilst we actually break free of ourselves first. It has been a wondrous adventure thus far, and each week unfolds yet another challenge to wake up many of my forgotten and in need of exercise brain cells, work out my unique approach to creativity, let go of my fears, and the chance to remind myself that we each have a destiny that must be constantly worked toward. My mission and lifestyle will be to improve my magickal endeavors and spiritual training, write, paint, to continue moving as close as I can to enlightenment in this lifetime.
Oh, and I finally learned that there really is a useful and practical application for that college algebra and geometry. If it doesn’t work on the mathematical plane, it’s not going to be transformed whilst trying to ignore the laws of the universe on the physical plane either. Yes, I did manage to get a round table top into a rectangle car trunk once, but learned that both the inside of the trunk and the table suffered the consequences.
In tiny house living if you have three square feet of storage to fill; you can
A: let of the need to neatly secure loose items in rigid containers and use plastic bags instead of taking for granted the physical laws of gravity and stability take the upper hand
B: Reduce, discard, and give away all but what you are okay with tripping over
C: Go through both A and B and to discover that in order to keep your seasonal clothes you can’t afford to replace you have to rotate storage with or all those jump drives you filled with memories, and rethink everything once called ‘necessary’ before loading anything into your tiny little house or wagon. Otherwise you become the mouse that moves a thing from one place to another and keeps repeating the process because that is all that can be done.
Perhaps in the end, we will all find that what we have successfully managed to manifest sometimes occurred between meaningful layers of ‘becoming’. Otherwise, many of us who lack sublime patience would most certainly have missed the opportunities were offered to appreciate the journey along the way, not to mention grasping the lessons sent to assist us in our transformation.
Life ebbs and flows within change along with the seasons. Nothing remains the same really, else it ceases to grow and move forward. We will need to learn to hold on to what is important and valuable and dear to us and it may take having to let go of some of the same to not be forced to color within the lines again.
I have immersed myself in the ebb and flow, am on board once more with adaptation, looking forward to each month ahead. I have gotten as far as releasing the physical past. Next, the emotional.
On that note, I will end this first and begin scanning those three thousand pictures which will require I learn how use larger storage than jump drives and let go of cherished concepts known as ‘hard copies’. Which wasn’t planned for this lifetime at all since I was still waiting for self cleaning closets and interactive computer systems even in SUVS and RVS: Changing my thought pattern as we speak.
I will be moving during Samhain/Halloween, but should be able to share some photos of the little wagon by Yule. In my next offering, I will share how I needed to rethink and rework some magickal tools and supply to adjust to tiny home living, and offer what I experienced on doing so this next time around. Until then, Happy Trails to you, and to all of you who have reduced your ‘living space’, remember the potential within and without us still remains as vast as it always is.
Blessings to all!

This entry was posted in How-To Articles, Practical Magick. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s