Witch-hood is hoarding various pickle jars on the off-chance you will use them in a spell one day.
Advanced Witch-hood is knowing yourself well enough to know that you’re never going to use it and that there will always be more opportunities to have more jars; it’s cluttering up the kitchen and there’s no room for anything else, throw the damned thing out. You can buy more pickles later.
Slightly random ramble but:
In the spirit work community, it’s really easy to find newbies who learn about all of it, and immediately go “I had an imaginary friend as a kid, and they must have been an actual spirit, so that means I really have years of experience!”
I know it can be really easy to assume that all imaginary friends were actually spirits, but even if they were spirits, I don’t think it counts as a valid amount of experience. When you’re a kid, you have no semblance of what is real or not, and it’s really hard to use any form of discernment (hell, when I was a kid, I was convinced I was descended from frogs). And of course, you can’t forget that kids are crazy imaginative, and many times the imaginary friends are just that: imaginary.
Personally, I believe it is better to start counting your experience from the moment you actually know that you are working with spirits, that way you don’t A) freak out about not being as experienced as you think you should be and B) don’t accidentally make yourself believe that everything that showed up in your childhood was a spirit.
This is hugely important. Especially when people try to use their amounts of experience as a point of authority.
“I’ve been doing spirit work for 13 years.” Okay, is that thirteen years of regular, conscious practice? Or did you have one set of experiences at age nine, then forget about it until three years ago when you started practicing and looked back? Quality maters. It’s not a bad question to ask people when asking for advice, or if you interact with spirit shops, to see how their years of experience have been spent. If someone is taking a position of expertise or authority, you deserve to trust their legitimacy.
A wish for all the American retail workers who are working on Thanksgiving or Black Friday:
Bless you, and may your shifts be as stress-free as possible.
So say we all.
You are unexplored, unusual
and frighteningly beautiful.
Nikita Gill (via quotemadness)
Bad occult spirit identification tip
Names are powerful in the spirit world. Having a spirit’s name is very useful when attempting to work with it. If you don’t know a spirit’s name but you need to address it, you can instead use the invocation: “YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE!”
The year is 2018. Your bills are on autopay. You just got paid and you still have $1200 from the last check. When you want something, you buy it without moving money around. Your credit cards are paid off. You and your friends have 2 international trips planned and paid for this year. Your parents are in great health and you’re able to help if they need anything. You love your job. Your desired creative career is falling into place and you get to take your little cousins to Six Flags and Universal Studios over the Summer. Your relationships are healthy and supportive. All of the toxic energy from the past 6 years is gone. You going to concerts, eating good across the states and your crib has art and warmth throughout. 2018 is going to be so good to you.
In Jesus name Amen 🙏🏾
I need & deserve this energy ✨
Fingers crossed!
I’d cry tears of joy if I had $1200 to spare at ANY time.
The Turkey Story
So it’s 2001, and my family drives from fucking California and like three blizzards to get to Ohio for thanksgiving, becuase my grandparents are moving into a nursing home and it’s their last holiday in that house. So its a bit bittersweet but ultimately a good thing.
Since it’s their last holiday there, the family pulls out all the stops when it comes to dinner, all the Russian desserts come out, as does the Lethal Bacon Mashed Potatoes and the horrible candied yams dish because not all expressions of love are good, even if they are sincere. In the spirit of going all-out, Uncle Bobby smokes a Turkey.
Uncle Bobby started cooking as a boy scout by tossing foil-wrapped potatoes into a campfire and has been addicted since, and now has a hand-made smokehouse in the backyard where he makes various cured meats and other delights. He seasons the turkey in the traditional manner, but he and grandpa have a shared passion for a spaicier mesquite-style bird, so Bobby makes a Cornish Game Hen seasoned that way, for them.
Then Bobby has a Brilliant Idea. He realizes that he can stuff the turkey (once it has been smoked) with regular stuffing, and there is still plenty of room for him to put the game hen inside THAT, and stuff the game hen becuase why not? He confers with Mom, and she explains how to cut open the turkey so there’s dramatic reveal as the stuffing and game hen come out. It’s Genius.
Except, of course, that my Aunt Sue is attending, Uncle Cliff slouching after her.
So the day of the dinner, tensions are running a bit high, between the marathon cooking, the kids all being trapped indoors due to aforementioned blizzards, and Uncle Cliff deciding that the best way to amuse himself is by hiding from the adults in the basement, getting drunk and rambling about how various ethic groups were destroying America. Being that I had close Muslim friends that were leaving the country becuase of 9/11, I was near tears from this nonsense and ready to fight a man roughly five times my size.
Sue, for some reason, keeps coming down and defending him, or telling us we’re rotten children for ‘attacking’ him, becuase she Must Stand By Her Man, even if her man is a hefty bag of feces with an ugly mustache.
My sister eventually bolts upstairs to tattle and my grandfather limps down to the basement and brandishes his Hip-Bone Cane, hands rock-steady in spite of the Parkinson’s slowly taking over him.
“Firstly Cliff, It may not be my roof much longer but while you are under it you will be civil, or I’ll beat your skull in. Also, dinner’s ready, everyone go wash up.”
We go upstairs and sit down, and do the traditional “Name one thing you’re thankful for” as the bread gets passed around the table, and things calm down a bit. Bobby brings out the Turkey and everyone goes OOH becuase it’s really pretty, them Mom carves it open so that the stuffing spills out dramatically along with the game hen and there’s an appreciative gasp all around becuase it looks cool.
Only Sue KEEPS gasping, in utter horror, before getting up and clasping her hands to her face ala Edvard Munch and shrieks-
“OH MY GOD IT WAS PREGNANT!”
We all stare at Sue. We all look back at the fully-dressed-cooked-and-stuffed birds that in no way had any internal organs in them or ever gave live birth. Then we all looked back at Sue, trying to figure out where to begin but since she’d been trying to justify Cliff’s behavior she was pretty much free-associating conspiracies and scandals now, and just kept going.
“IT WAS PREGNANT MY GOD WE’VE COMMITTED AN ABORTION WE’RE ALL GOING TO HELL FOR THIS, I’M SO SORRY JESUS-” She goes into full pearl-clutching gibbering horror at this point and falls back into her chair like it’s a Victorian fainting couch only it’s a shitty chair from the Eisenhower administration so it collapses and she slams into the floor, sobbing and kicking her feet like a toddler.
Everyone watched for a moment before my Mom sighs heavily and starts carving and serving the turkey while my grandmother mouths “she’s not coming back”.
Cliff, reactions delayed by about six beers, finally notices his wife is on the floor and tries to pick her up, falls on his ass himself. They are assisted by Dad, who is saintly patient man and less immune to this jacknapery at that point. I am stuffing dinner rolls into my face to keep from laughing at this grand spectacle and it’s not working.
“I CAN’T EAT IT, I REFUSE TO PARTAKE IN THIS BARBARISM-” Sue begins but Dad puts on his best Kindly Father voice (he went to seminary school long enough to learn that before getting drafted but that’s another story) and assures Sue that she need not eat, or even be in the room if she wants. She nods, placated by being the center of attention again, and Dad goes in for the kill.
“I wouldn’t want you to go hungry. Can I make you some Eggs?”
“That would be lovely.” Said Sue, joke flying over her head like a boeing 747. I recall watching my grandmother nearly choke to death on the green beans over that, and everyone pointedly trying to avoid talking about anything poultry-related while Sue sat there and ate the most ironic scrambled eggs in the history of mankind.
Shortly thereafter, Cliff threw up in the sink and they went home, and the party got underway properly, with Grandpa raising a toast to Mom and Uncle Bobby “For marrying well, for a change”
“Pregnant Turkey” has been an Ohioan thanksgiving staple since then. I’ll see if I can hit Uncle Bobby up for instructions but if you decide to make it 1. you HAVE to shriek “OH MY GOD IT WAS PREGNANT” when you carve it open, or it’s not authentic and won’t taste as good 2. Share the pictures with me.
Happy Thanksgiving to all, please enjoy this nonsense!
The best thanksgiving story of all time #bless
brooklyn nine nine is legit the best sitcom i have ever seen and there are so many memes that are b99 jokes and they still only have about a million viewers a week i don’t get it
so many people tagged this like “i want to watch it but i haven’t yet,” like please watch brooklyn nine nine. it’s such a good show in every way, it’s feminist, diverse has lgbt rep and HILARIOUS. and they were quite literally on the verge of being canceled last season so please tune in this fall if you can. i promise you will not regret it at all.
FOR REAL FOLKS DO IT
Please Americans I’m begging you, we can’t lose this internationally beloved show just cause not enough people tune in over there every week
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