It is an honor and a privilege to announce the publication of Women of Babalon– A Howling of Women’s Voices, of which I am a contributor. The work is a phenomenal collection of magick and mystery from some of the most powerful women around- Mishlen Linden, Linda Falorio, Charlotte Rodgers, Madeleine Ledespencer, Lou Hotchkiss Knives, Emma Doeve, Diane Narraway, Geraldine Lambert, Semirani Vine, Lorraine Sherwin, Diane Mysterieux, Lilith Dorsey, Ayahna Kumarroy, Maegdlyn Morris, Sarah-Jane Farrer, Sharmon Davidson-Jennings. I am proud to say some of these women I have had the honor of knowing and embracing for more than half my life, and others were welcome gems of new found discovery in the depths of Babalon. I hope to interview and profile many of them on these Voodoo Universe pages in the coming months… who knows what more will be unveiled.
The following piece was inspired by Women of Babalon‘s original call to action, due to size constraints, it did not have a chance to make it into the final manuscript, but I have instead jumped on the seasonal bandwagon of love, and chosen to share it with you here.
I welcome the chance to tell a love story, and this one is mine. I was born when he kissed me, to paraphrase a cinematic quote. Yet, part of me knew he was always there. I believe in time, and timelessness. They are integral in understanding love, sex or possession really. Because it is at the divine junction of time and timelessness that magick always happens. I met my love in every weird, wacky, and wild way possible.
The first time I remember was many years ago at a Beltane event, there’s a hint there somewhere. I remember a blushing teenage boy reluctantly being crowned the May King with all the accompanying shyness. I didn’t pay much attention, because I am about 7 years older than him, and it wasn’t appropriate to be noticing under the circumstances.
The next time, he remembers better than I, also involves a Pagan event, one where they used to say anyone could “get laid,” even though, if I’m honest, I rarely did. This particular evening my best friend and I had most likely drank too much Mead. We had decided to wander away from the bonfire, out under the moon and stars to enjoy the night. Now my best friend fancies herself a close sister to the Love Goddesses, and she is. She includes altars to several of the Goddesses in her house, and includes them in her daily prayers and practices. We came upon a gentleman in the road, my best friend exclaimed “I am the goddess of love, take this blessed fabric as a gift from the universe.” He took it. He was a little afraid. That was it for now.
The next time I noticed him we weren’t alone. We were at another Pagan event. I had scheduled a large possession ritual for the festival. Normally, when I run a ritual we set the area, proceed with a typical order of service, and whatever or whichever energies wish to show up, with positive and helpful intent are welcomed. This ritual was a bit different for me. On many occasions I had performed rituals with a dear friend who is part of an Umbanda (Brazilian) spiritual house. They way they perform rituals there is to invite a specific Orixa (or Lwa/Loa as they are called in Voodoo) for a limited amount of time, to come to the ceremony and answer question or perform divination for the congregation. My idea for this particular ancestor ritual whose theme was “Make me stronger,” an idea borrowed from Nietzsche or Kanye West depending on how you spiritually roll. I would open myself up to the participants ancestors in possession to provide guidance or whatever else they needed. Repetition and rhythms would be used to bring about rapture. It was a powerful ritual, with much emotion and people chanting “Make me stronger,” and “I need you rite now,” in the background. People received much needed blessings, answers, and questions. Now, for those who are unfamiliar the energy after a possession experience is often strange. Some people experience elation, some nausea, it is definitely unusual. My ritual took place during the afternoon, so I was left with the entire evening to get through. My spiritual godchildren were in attendance, and they kept me company for some time. But as the night wore on it was just me and my lover left standing. He had not attended my ritual, and doesn’t sleep much anyway, and I was still full of excess energy or “piss and vinegar” as my Nana used to say. We walked through the night and I showed him where we had performed the rite. The residual power was still vibratory and intense. In a way I guess sex and possession were both inevitable at that point. The sex was otherworldly, and unusual. At first there were just whispers from people long gone, and not meant to be seen. It wasn’t just that, we were different as well. Now that we have six years of experience I know how different it truly was from our normal selves. Our movements were different, our noises, even at times our appearance and our being seemed to morph in and out of it’s normal state. This went on for a little over eight hours, and took place in several different locations. We finally ended up in what I thought was a clearing in the woods near the fire circle. It was still dark at that point. As the sun began to rise we both saw a figure watching us. An older man, I saw him dressed in black, my lover saw him in white. He told me this would be the last man I would truly be with, and then he disappeared.
We found out later that the ancestor altar, that was about 15 yards from where we had seen the man, had burnt down at the same time. The Voodoo Gede, or ancestor spirits from my tradition have a sense of humor. Many prominent Pagans at the event claimed that their magick was so strong that it had sparked the ancestors. We smiled. The Gede smiled. We still do.
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