Buried

"Gooood morning, all! Do I smell something a-cooking?" -Carey Bell, So Weird

Yesterday, I spent my Thanksgiving with Kyle, his family, & Papa Murphy's :) it was lovely.

Afterward, Kyle & I went out into the woods to bury the box. The box is filled to the brim with everything paranormal & pagan that I am letting go of. Kyle was sweet enough to dig the hole for me, even though he was tired. (<3)

According to Ann Moura's calender of pagan events, yesterday was the Festival of Diana (goddess of the moon and the hunt), and I consider that a good night to have buried the box! I silently asked Diana to bless and protect the box & the site at which we buried it. 

I have always heard that evil cannot cross bridges or bodies of water, so crossing the bridge to go back home felt sort of like a symbolic "leaving the evil and crazy behind."

I am not sure yet how to feel about the spot where we buried the box, or how to treat it. Right now, it does feel like an "evil," kind of a bad place. But when I think about it, it should be a good place eventually. It symbolizes my new life, moving on from the crazy stuff. But for now, I'm wary & keeping my distance. Hopefully soon I will go down there and test the waters, see how it feels.

For now, I leave you with a poem I wrote about the box itself.

The Box

There is a box that lies among the dead,
For we bury things when they die.
Inside, a final resting bed,
Of spiritual balance gone awry.
A darkness slinked into my mind,
Amid creatures pulled from time.
Within delusions, I was entwined,
Of phantoms terrifying and sublime.

Something’s pulled me from it now,
What, I’ll never know.
But I thank the Gods, and I bow,
For giving me tomorrow.
My faith hasn’t faltered,
Not notably, in fact,
All that has been altered,
Is my sanity’s intact!

Be Seeing You,
Æ