Just tried this reading technique.

As I was walking to my desk and shuffling cards, quite a few of them fell out.

As you can see, there’s an Ace and a Page already:  Cups and Swords, respectively.

Sometimes, when a couple of cards fall out, I don’t do a reading, but go by those cards that decided to literally jump at me.  This time I decided to draw additional cards anyway.

And this is what I got:

Isn’t this just one ray of sunshine of a reading?

So I suppose I won’t exactly enjoy the news I’ll get.  I do hope that the doom and gloom will eventually manifest into great changes.  And by great I mean rad and brilliant and spectacular.

Ramble-ramble:

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During my childhood, my family lived the Craft more than celebrating it with organized and detailed rituals. Sometimes the rituals we celebrate feel so normal and routine that it is easy to assume there is no ritual at all being expressed, but this is not entirely true. Lighting incense and candles and setting out a bowl of milk or cup of wine for the Fairies on the night of the Full Moon is a ritual. Gazing at the Moon and noting Her many faces and phases is a ritual. Holding up a cup to the Moon in blessing and pouring some of the contents on the ground as a libation, then drinking the rest, is a ritual. Creating impromptu songs, poems, or music sung to the Moon, performed and released with blessing to the Goddess, is a ritual. These are all rituals done without ringing bells, setting up altars, or putting on ritual robes. These are the rituals of every day living, when the magic of each moment is savored and released so that the energy of living flows unhindered to be carried in harmony with the tides of Nature and the Universe.

– from the Esbats of the Goddess, by Ann Moura

One of the reasons I have difficulty referring to myself as a witch is that my rituals are exactly this:  Little things intertwined strongly with the mundane.  If I didn’t tell you, you’d never realise that I’m doing something magical right in front of you.

I used to have an elaborate altar, and I tried my best to keep up with the observances of all Sabbats and Esbats — until I realised that this just doesn’t work.  The altar made my room feel stuffy, so I dismantled it.  I now keep a statue of Bast on my vanity and a couple of Orthodox ikons (my spirituality is mix’n'match) on the top shelf of one of my shelving units.  The intricate Sabbat and Esbat celebrations felt forced and unnatural.  These days my acknowledgement can be as little as quietly saying, “Happy New Year”, to myself; or perhaps sharing my tea and dry fruits with a plant on the kitchen window; or simply greeting or bidding adieu to the Moon.

It’s the every day stuff to me.  Nature is magic, life is magic.  What’s important is not the rigid structure or the spell, but the meaning behind your simple — sincere — words and intentions.