Autumn wind, a Beautiful daze and what price is Integrity.

Autumn's cold chill starts to bite, when solar rays deign to bless our skin with warmth we are quick to dismiss the coming of colder times, yet come they must. Even in the clearer Sky's of dawn, the ground wet with morning dew, the ones who would sleep under canvas covers find moisture rich and soaking through to the skin, sticking to the walls of their homes and bringing damp and discomfort to poorly prepared feet as the grass is trodden underfoot, hope springs eternal that the last vestiges of the summer sun will heat body and soul.
Soon the Geese will come and the swallows depart, wild hunts have made the first of their forays into the night sky, Thor's own hammer sounds the changing of the guard, bright flashes scar the sky as winter's grip makes its preparation to take back its own, dark days and chilly evenings around a blazing hearth, solice for the witch's soul as we too reclaim the night.

What is it that makes us who we are, what forms our earthly lives, brings shape to what we are to become, the lessons we learn, the influences we take, we are but clay figures to be shaped and formed by Fate and circumstance. From raw earth we become unique beings, reflections of the gods, we are products of our surroundings, sponges that soak up that which our own souls require, we seek out good company, hold friends as family and we are touched by thoughts and ideas that are already familiar to our inner selves.
We are the vessel, the journey and the destination, if we listen to our spirit then we will never fail, if we are to blindly follow we find our selves on the path to ruin and disappointment.

In all aspects of life there are those who fail to listen to the inner voices, those who would follow the crowd. To accept the world as it is with rose tinted glasses and blinkers, never to question the whys and wherefore's of this or any other existence, Ignorance is indeed bliss for the masses yet still they search, often unrealised, for some small part of the divine truth, to belong to that which the heart would yearn for if the ears could shut out the clamouring voices of a failing civilisation.
The Dream catcher, the rose quartz crystal and the lucky charm, all devices the ignorant may seek out in an attempt to grab something of the spiritual, this is not anger at these affairs, only sadness at the way so many wont let themselves become whole, to be satisfied with small trinkets in an illconcieved nod to the heavens, an insurance against the fact that True Faith has become something that mocked and derided within an increasingly secular land, they know there is truth beyond the walls but would not really want to find or declare a belief.

I have been reminded of this fact, (which is not exclusive to those who would walk an esoteric path) by a pleasant visit to a festival in the heart of Devon. Four glorious days among my own tribe, music and merriment shared with family and like minded people. The Festival originally set up by the Punk/Folk Anarchists- The Levellers, the spirit of the nineties, born out of Thatchers Britain. In those days we were shaped and formed by the things around us, we became as stone, immovable objects that would not be swayed by the establishment and the promise of wealth if we were to behave, always to wave two fingers at the man and not afraid to take direct action against those who threaten our freedoms, or the boys in blue that would beat down the doors of our homes to silence that voice, and there we were, twenty years later, as solid as we were then and stronger in numbers as our own offspring bought into the world now stand beside us.
Yet among the shaved heads, the Mohican haircuts and a sea of tattooed bodies, there are those who did tow the line, those who became as slaves to society, desperate to touch what they know in their hearts is something pure and incorruptible, to stand along side the true defenders of freedom and liberty, to believe in an integrity that they once sold to the Man, they did not listen to their souls and now they pay the price, it has been said that"it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the gates of heaven", and now the penny drops as the masses once more grab and grasp at that which is lost to them, Monday will be back to the mill and social ideology can go back into the cupboard for another year.
Sad statements to be sure, but this poor man refuses to give up that one thing that they cannot take, cunning man or deluded fool, you decide but my integrity stands tall, can you all say the same.

So as in the mundane world we see the way in which those who have sold integrity try to lay claim to that which is lost to them, sadly the same is true in the occult world, the work should stand for itself and clearly within some circles it does not, the answer would be to try and detract from the truths in favour of the mans own lies, power corrupts, it is time that certain people should take off the blinkers and glasses and try to find some thing that works, although it is commonly believed that certain activities of which certain groups enjoy, will indeed necessitate the use of spectacles due to poor sight, an unfortunate side effect.

We are old, we are young, we are in this together
Vagabonds and children, prisoners forever
With pulses a-raging and eyes full of wonder
Kicking out behind us again
(Justin Sullivan, NMA)

Flags,Flax and Fodder. Tony.