SECTION III - STORY TIME

Lady and Lord - Chelsy
Lady Luna - Arianne ShadowWalker
Meagan's Imbolc - Kat Dyer
Mewsings from The Alley - Astartes
Crone's Book of Magickal Words - Valerie Worth - Review by Susan Davis
New Beginnings, Abbey - Mystickally
Persephone Dreams - Luna Willowsong
Michael and Beth Chronicles - Selene SilverWind
Using the Charge of the Goddess As A Psalm - Luna Willowsong
The Ugly Duckling's Daughter - Baboo Kyra Finch
Dragon Circle - Vixen Deamantra
Walking Between Worlds - Dealing With Spiritual Residue - Michelle A. Belanger

Lady and Lord
By Chelsy Cusack

Lady, when your greenwoods I see,
I know what joy living can be.
To see the fairies dance and sing
With their laughter the bright woods ring.
What's this? Sound of pan pipes here?
'Tis but the elven pipers. Need not fear.

Now be dusk, but have no fear,
For the fire flies, they gather near,
To light our dance with golden glow
But come moon rise then they go.
The silver light now tints the mist,
that gather 'round our world, dew kissed.

But kiss of mist I want not tonight.
'Tis the kiss of a lover, soft and light.
Our grace in dance makes fairies sigh,
In the wood our worries die.
While the harper strikes the cord,
We dance on as Lady and Lord.

Lady Luna
By Arianne ShadowWalker

Sweet Lady Luna, so round and so bright,
What are your plans on this most special night?
Sharing your glow will you light up the sky?
Or will you instead be demure and so shy?

To meet your lover through the skies you race,
Finally slowed by one planet's fond embrace.
As you come together, your face you don't show,
And make things interesting for us down below!

You share your short time, seems like a rush,
And we here on Earth see your pink lover's blush.
It seems all too soon, your tryst starts to end,
And you pull back from your lover and friend.

In a sight thats enjoyed by all both far and near,
From behind your lover your face will soon peer.
And all of us here watch with awe up above,
The glow of your smile shows us all your sweet love.

(c) Arianne ShadowWalker, January 20, 2000.

Meagan's Imbolc
By Kathryn Dyer
copyright 1996

Once upon a time there was a little girl named Meagan. She lived with her mommy and daddy, her big brother Corwin and her beautiful cat named Starweaver.

Meagan was waiting for her daddy to pick her up from school one day. It was cold and she was very unhappy. She couldn't wait for her daddy to get her to help her feel better. Soon she saw her daddy standing at the doorway. She ran to hug him. "Whoa there," said Michael, "you almost ran me over! What's the matter honey?" He lifted Meagan's chin and looked into her tear-filled eyes. "Some, some other kids called me names today!" cried Meagan. "Oh, honey," said Michael as he gathered her up into his arms, "let's go get into the car and you can tell me all about it. It looks like it really hurt your feelings." Meagan nodded and hurried into her coat.

Once she and Michael were in the car she started to tell him about her 'most awfullest day'. She told her daddy how she had been telling her best friend Cindy about making candles for Imbolc. Some other kids overheard her and started calling her 'witch' in very mean voices. On the way home Meagan cried and cried. Her daddy started to look very upset himself. When they got home, they found Corwin sitting in the living room playing the recorder that he had gotten for Christmas. "There you are!" said Corwin, looking rather disgusted, "Dad, do you know what she did? She went blabbing all over school about being a witch. Two of the guys in my class were talking about it. Why does she have to be such a big blabbermouth?!" Michael looked at Corwin sternly and said, "Meagan was talking to Cindy about making candles for Imbolc, I hardly think that counts as blabbing all over school. Do you remember how hard it was for you to keep from telling everyone about rituals when you were her age? Meagan feels very hurt because some kids don't understand our religion and were making fun of her. As I recall , you felt the same way when the boys down the street teased you about learning to cook even though you like cooking. I think you'd better go up to your room and do your homework while your mother and I talk to Meagan about what happened." Corwin looked at the floor, "Sorry Meagan. I'll tell mom you're in here on my way upstairs." and with that he slunk out of the room.

Meagan's mother Elizabeth came into the room frowning just as Meagan settled onto her daddy's lap in the big armchair by the fireplace. "Oh my," she said as she saw Meagan's teary face, "Corwin said that you'd been teased at school today. What happened honey?" Meagan snuffled her nose and took a deep breath, "I was telling Cindy about making candles for Imbolc and she asked me what it was and I was telling her when some stupid boys overheard me and started calling me a witch!" Meagan burst into tears again because remembering made her feel bad again. Michael kissed the top of her head. "I know that it's hard when other people say things to try to hurt us," he said, "Why do you think they were teasing you?" "Because they're mean!!" said Meagan.

Elizabeth took her hand and said, "I don't think that's it honey. Do you remember when we told you why you shouldn't talk to Gramma Lee and Granpa Scott about rituals?" Meagan nodded, "Uh-uh, 'cus they're Christian and they're scared that we'll go to hell and so they get really mad when we talk about it." Meagan's parents smiled at each other. "That's right Meagan. They don't understand why we are pagans and when people don't understand things sometimes they get mad instead. Lot's of people are afraid of things they don't understand but they don't like being afraid and so they'll get mad to keep from being so afraid," said Elizabeth, "Do you think that those boys understand what being a Pagan is?" Meagan shook her head.

Michael hugged her close. "Are you feeling a little better?" he asked. "Yeah, I guess so," said Meagan. "Well," said her daddy, "What would you like to do about this? Do you think that we should talk to your teacher, or to the boys?" Meagan thought about it. The boys' teasing did make her feel bad but she knew that she was not a bad person and she really liked going to rituals. "No," she said to her parents, "Maybe if we leave them alone for awhile they will not bother me. When
Bobby teased me about my hair at day camp I just pretended like he wasn't there and pretty soon he stopped doing it. Maybe these boys will do the same thing." Her parents smiled at her. "That's a really good idea Meagan," said Michael, "Let's leave them alone for awhile and see what happens."

Elizabeth stood up, "So are you in a good enough mood to make candles now?" she asked. "Oh yes!" said Meagan, her face brightening as she jumped up from Michael's lap. Meagan and her mother went into the kitchen. Just then, Corwin came thumping down the stairs with something in his hand. "Here Meagan," he said handing her a small circle of metal, "I was saving this for your birthday, but I thought it might cheer you up. I'm sorry I called you a blabbermouth." Meagan looked at the disc in her hand. It had her name on one side and runes on the other. "Thank-you Corwin," she said, "What do the runes mean?" "Oh," said Corwin, "this one stands for you and this one is for protection and this one is for happiness. So, mom, are we going to make candles now?"

Elizabeth nodded, "Remember to keep away from the stove Meagan, it's going to be very hot!"

They all worked hard to make candles for Imbolc. They made green for the earth, yellow for air, red for fire, blue for water and purple for spirit. They also made white candles for the Lady and Her Lord. Meagan helped pick out the scents for the candles. She had been studying oils told her mother to add patchouli for earth. She decided they should add lavender for air and cedar for fire. Meagan wanted lilac for water and sandalwood for spirit. But she couldn't decide which oils to use for the God and the Goddess. She looked at the list of oils in her parent's Book of Shadows. The Book of Shadows contained lots of information, like rituals and lists of herbs, oils and runes. She saw that carnation and jasmine both stood for Imbolc. Carnation was listed as a masculine herb and jasmine was a feminine herb. When she asked her mother what that meant, Elizabeth told her that masculine meant 'male' and feminine meant 'female'. So Meagan decided they should put carnation and jasmine in the candles for the Lord and Lady.

"Momma," asked Meagan, "why *do* we make candles for Imbolc?"

Elizabeth set aside the hot wax. "Well," she said, "do you remember what I said about what we celebrate at Imbolc?" Meagan nodded, "We're celebrating because Winter is starting to go away and Spring is coming back." "That's right," said Elizabeth, "and we light candles to remind the Sun to come back to us. On Saturday we'll have an Imbolc ritual and light all the candles so that the Sun will know where to come back. If you remember to take a nap on Saturday you can stay up and go to Circle with us." Meagan was excited. She loved to go to Circle and she especially loved to sing the chants to honor the gods. Just then, Starweaver jumped onto the table. "Oh no!" cried Elizabeth, "Star, get down, you might get hurt by the hot wax! Meagan, you'd better take him outside so he'll be safe. The candles will have to cool and harden now. Corwin can help me clean up." Meagan picked up Starweaver the way her parents had taught her, holding him under his chest and holding his back legs so that he would feel safe. She and Starweaver went outside to play.

Soon, it was Saturday. The boys at school were still teasing Meagan but because she didn't pay any attention to them they weren't finding it as much fun as they had at first. It still made Meagan feel bad and she had written a story about how she felt and that made her feel better. On Saturday Meagan helped her brother Corwin put the candles all around the family room. In the winter their Coven met in the family room because it was too cold to circle outside. Meagan saw their High Priest Jeremy put a fire extinguisher by the place where the gate to the circle would be. That made her feel better since there would be so many candles lit tonight. Soon it was time for ritual. Meagan took a bath and got into her robe. When she went downstairs she saw that all the candles had been lit. The regular lights were out and the room looked like a fairyland.

After circle everyone helped clean up. Meagan yawned. She went over to Isabella who had been made an initiate in their tradition. Isabella had been studying a long time to learn all the things that their tradition said a first degree initiate should know. Meagan knew that she had to wait until she was grown up before she could become an initiate. In their tradition a person had to be 18 before they could become an initiate but Meagan's mother told her that she could go ahead and learn many of the things that an initiate had to know. She was already learning about oils and herbs and things. Meagan went to kiss her mother goodnight. Just as she was going to kiss her father she yawned even bigger than before. Michael smiled at her, "Excuse me everyone, I think a little girl needs a proper escort to bed." He picked her up and carried her to her bed. As Michael tucked her in, Starweaver jumped onto the bed. Meagan cuddled up with him to go to sleep. She decided to dream about the magic land of pancakes where the rivers are made of syrup and all the leaves are different flavored pancakes. When her mother came into check on her she was sound asleep with a smile on her face. Her week had started out bad, but ended up very, very good.

Mewsings from The Alley
By Astartes
(astartes@systec.com)

Let me start off by telling you about our cats. We have sixteen. Yup, sixteen. Those of you who have multiple cats understand us, those who don't usually shake their heads in disbelief. We rescue them from bad situations. Ideally, we plan to give them away to good homes, but then we come to our senses and know where the better home is, right here with us. Don't get us wrong, we aren't prejudiced. We also have two dogs and two guinea pigs. But this really isn't about anything other than nature's perfect being - cats.

First, look at the way cats regard themselves. They know who is boss, and they know who's superior. Take our Tabitha, a seven pound (soaking wet) imperial b*tch queen from the Seventh Level of Hades. Rightfully, as she was our first female rescue, she is the Alpha. For those not familiar with this term, Alpha female is the cat that leads the pack, who watches over the young, and who designates the positions of the rest of the members of the pride. This does NOT, however, give her authority over us, the humans. Try telling her that. Sure, she knows we are Mommy and Daddy, but she thinks she knows what is best for everyone. If I don't bathe properly, in her exalted opinion, she'll stand on me and proceed to clean me furiously. AND she'll complain if I get up to soon. Vocally. LOUDLY. She has no regard for the fact that us humans walk upright, use tools, and clean her litterbox. Which reminds me, if we don't clean the box everyday at the exact same time, she'll let us know. Our Jaycee knows he is the most gorgeous cat we have and demands proper attention. He preens himself nonstop for hours at a time, and poses for pictures. If we are petting him and decide it's enough loving for him, but he doesn't think so, he'll either reach out with his digits and grab us or reach over and bite us.

Have you noticed the way they walk? Like they own the place. Nose in the air and doing the Gestapo Prance. I swear I can hear an imperial march in the background when our b*tch-in-training Samantha walks around. Tabitha is in the process of training Saman (which is our "pet" name for her, with an emphasis on the first syllable) as her second-in-command. The only problem is that Saman is a pure white kitty (They are called albino cats, and most have histories of genetic problems.) Our Saman is partially deaf and blind, BUT she is learning to cope and is still a proficient addition to The Pride. Jaycee, who you'll notice is a perfect example of what I'm talking about, walks like he is the only one worth looking at in our house. When he walks around, his tail flares out behind him as if it's his battle standard. If I give another cat kisses and start petting them, he'll come over and push them out of the way. He'll THEN glare at me to make my transgression known, and say "meer". Of course, being marginally intelligent, I placate him and tell him, "You're my favorite cat, Cee-Monster!" (which is our nickname for him.)

We have a lot of cats who, (and there is no better word for it), prance. All on their toes looking like some Russian ballet dancer. The best part, though, is when they stumble. It's not often, but it's enough to be worth it. They shrug it off like nothing happened and proceed to the nearest corner of the room to clean furiously in embarrassment. (And as for that myth about always landing on their feet? Lies. Perpetrated by the humans who are brainwashed by the Conspiracy of Cats Consortium (or CCC). Check your cat every now and then; if they are looking at you funny, they are just reporting their finding to their superiors. Christmas (our 14 pound young Maine Coon) tried one day to either jump up or jump down from a high place. Apparently because we were in another part of the house, he missed and proceeded to dislocate both his shoulders. He just suffered quietly until we tried to pick him up, which caused him to growl. So we freaked out. Wouldn't you? We called in an emergency and tried to make him comfortable, putting a pillow in a box and placed him into it carefully. Before we left, we thought we'd try to get him feeling better and placed some Nature's Recipe© Cat Treats beside him for comfort. Little did we know that food is more important than pain, for he carefully and with dignity rolled over to eat the entire pile. He then looked to us for more. ::shrug:: Some people, yeh?

Speaking of which, here is the story Mystickally composed in order to explain to a feline mailing list we are on as to what had happened to poor Chris, and it is affectionately titled:

CHRIS IS A FREAK
See Chris.
See Chris run.
See 13 lbs. Maine Coon/Siamese mix Chris jump on top of the book
shelf.
See Chris seeing Mommy and getting gitty.
See Chris react to a bag of treats being shook.
See Chris jump from atop the bookshelf onto the hard, tiled floor.
See Chris with a dislocated shoulder.

See Mommy run into the room with Chris on the floor, his tail twitching.
See Mommy freak out.

Get Chris into a box.
Get Chris into the car.
Get Chris a handful of treats to make him feel better.
Get Mommy a valium because Chris is greedily eating the handful of
treats while lying on his side in obvious pain.

:::sigh::: Chris is a freak.

written by Mystickally
and Chris (ouch ouch OUCH! ooh, treats! heehee)

Oh, and about the CCC: Don't believe me do you? Ask your cats, and if they ignore the question, then you know it's true. Some people call me paranoid, but they are the ones who are being controlled by them. Keep an eye on them. I'll leave you with these thoughts. Just because they don't speak human (and who said they couldn't?), it doesn't mean they aren't intelligent. The Egyptians revered them right? Why, you ask? Who do you think built the pyramids?

Crone's Book of Magickal Words by Valerie Worth
Review by Susan Davis
<Moonsilvered@Moonsilvered.com>

I am delighted to see this book on the shelves again. It was originally titled "The Crones Book Of Words" and was one of the first magickal volumes I ever read.

This book is a wonderful collection of spells, incantations, charms, potions and other simple magickal workings that address many of our most dearly held wishes and concerns. There is no attempt made to sway you to a particular style of applying the information, but there IS an emphasis on the often overlooked value of the written and spoken words as a source of power and self-control.

I enjoyed re-reading many of the chants and rhymes that she has listed. This is as much of a magickal cookbook as any I have seen ... very simple and forthright and inviting you to change, delete and add to her words all of the flourishes that you need to shape your own Magicks. Also, like all good wordsmiths, she does not play favorites ... there is something for every practitioner to find of value and you are always free to flip the page past anything that just does not fit your personal path.

This is quite simply a delightful reference book. It is one that I will gladly return to again and again when I need an inspiration or just the right set of words to shape my purpose to.

New Beginnings
Mystickally (Mystickally@yahoo.com)

Dearest Tim,
Well, I'm guessing you've heard about what's been going on in my life lately. I've chosen not to return any of the phone calls I have been getting from various members of that family ... this is it Timmy ... I'm not going to take it anymore. I am moving on with my life, and I refuse to listen to their insults.

Everyone has been great. Shaene is my tower of strength, Mike is a laugh a second, Kat is that shoulder to cry on ... everyone else has just been there for me, and I doubt I'd be able to get through it all without them. I am just a jumble of mixed emotions right now. That last year in high school was a bear to get through ... more so than the year before. My life is a soap opera ... but I never suspected that any of this stuff would happen ...

"Hey, whatcha doin'?"

Abby turned around to find Caleb standing in the door behind her.

"Hi ... just writing back to Tim. What's up?"

Cal walked towards her and sat down beside her.

"Just making sure you're ok. You've been quiet all day."

Cal had an uncanny way of seeing through Abby ... almost as well as Tim and Shaene. He knew that there had been a dark cloud hovering over Abby all of her life. He had seen it all through high school. Abby had been a very popular and happy person. She had always been cheerful, hyper, and lovable. Then during their junior year, something happened, and she became very distant and quiet. The twinkle in her eyes seemed to be burnt out. It wasn't until Shaene popped into her life that life began to return to her eyes. Now, Cal saw that she was starting to fade again, and it worried the heck out of him.

"I'm fine. I've just had a lot on my mind."

Abby sighed turned back around to the computer. She began typing up the rest of her letter. Cal watched her type. She had no idea how tense she looked, and she certainly had no clue that all of her friends were on to her `I'm strong and happy' façade. She was miserable. He could see that, yes, Abby was happier than she'd ever been, since severing all ties to her family. But she was obviously still reeling from the harsh words she had endured all of her life. Shaene had confided to him that Abby was determined to live her life independently and happily. But she had no idea how to achieve it, and he had no idea how to help her. It had been killing Shaene to see her like this. Frankly, Cal had no idea how to help either.

"So ..."

"You're wondering what my plans are for Imbolc?"

They both looked at each other and laughed. They had always been able to finish each other's sentences.

"No, I don't have anything in mind. I don't feel like I'm in the right frame of mind right now, you know? I think I am just going to spend it alone, in the dark, thinking. I'll probably just light a candle and some incense and just meditate."

"Oh, looking back on things and reflecting?"

Abby laughed. "Yes, something like that. I don't know ... I just feel so ... uncomfortable. I just started studying this stuff and I feel like I am rushing into it. I don't know what I'm doing! I shouldn't be participating in anything!"

Cal listened to Abby second-guess herself. Insecurity was starting to set in ... just what he and Shaene had been afraid of.

"Hey! The best way to learn is to just do it, right? And if you make a mistake then you make a mistake. You learn from it."

Abby knew Cal was right, but what she really wanted to say was that she WANTED to be alone that day.

"Cal, you're a darling, but honestly, I'll be fine. I just need to spend that day alone. I have a lot to think about. Imbolc is about what exactly?"

Cal thought about it for a moment before answering. He too had always had a difficulty grasping the significance of Imbolc. He had finally arrived at an understanding of the sabbat and explained to Abby that it is a time for new beginnings. Farmers wish for the speedy return of spring so that they may be able to plant new crops and start harvesting. He thought it fit Abby's present situation, since she needed a time of reflection, to look back, and then move on to new and better things.

Abby finally convinced Cal that she would be ok alone until Shaene got home from work in a few hours. She gave him a hug and sent him off to his dinner date with Kat. Finally alone, she sat looking out of the window at the fading daylight. She closed her eyes and sat quietly in the darkening living room. Abby knew she did have a lot to be thankful for. Shaene's timely entrance into her life literally saved her life. Without him or the love and support of her new friends, she'd never have come out of the shell she had built for herself. She imagined her life differently. She imagined what it might have been like to have a happy, functional, loving and supportive family. She imagined her life would have turned out very differently. She probably wouldn't have ever met Shaene, and she surely would not have met any of the others. Abby opened her eyes and shook her head, as if to shake off the thought of never having met Shaene or her friends. Walking across the room and over to her tiny altar, Abby thanked whatever forces control the world for giving her such a wonderful new family. Lighting a single white candle, Abby knelt in front of the altar and again closed her eyes. She willed herself to remember only the good memories. She remembered the day she, Shaene, and Cal met Kat, Cailey, Janie, Josh, Mike, and Paul ...

... Mike headed up a flight of stairs, carrying several heavy boxes in his arms, blocking his range of vision in front of him. Directly in front of him with her own box was Kat, going down the stairs. Unaware of Mike's approach, the inevitable was bound to happen ... Cal and Paul just happened to be running down the stairs behind Kat. They ran smack into Kat, and the three of them tumbled into Mike as they all slid and bumped to the bottom of the staircase. Boxes scattered everywhere. Abby and Shaene were headed towards the stairs when the group landed at the bottom. For a moment, nobody moved or said a word. They just stared at one another.

"Well how's THAT for an introduction?!"

Mike attempted to stand and shake out the tangles in his hair.

As they all tried to stand upright, Janie walked into the building, wearing sunglasses, and reading a piece of paper. She didn't once look up and didn't notice the pile up. Just as she approached where Mike lay, he raised his arms above his head and braced for the impact, then yelled:

"Aaahh!"

"Aaahh!!" Janie screamed and jumped back, her sunglasses falling to the floor. "What the heck are you all doing on the floor for?!"

"Bowling ... What do you think ... we PLANNED this?!" Mike yelled back.

Just when they thought things couldn't get any stranger, they heard a faint scream coming from the top of the stairs, and the scream seemed to be getting closer and closer. After a few silent moments, they all realized that it was probably better to get out of the way. That's when they heard the voice:

"I can't stop so if anyone is at the stairs you'd better move now!!!"

Mike exclaims: "Must move, must move, must move!!!"

They all scrambled to get out of the way when Cailey came flying down the stairs, projected by rollerblades she obviously couldn't control. She smacked into the group and knocked them all over, sending everyone back down on the floor.

Shaking their heads and laughing were Abby and Shaene, from at a safe corner of the room.

"Well you don't encounter this kind of incident everyday ..."

Abby laughed at Shaene's comment as she and Shaene hopped over the pile of people and up the stairs.

"Hey ... Abigail?"

Abby turned around and realizes that she actually knew a person from the pile up!

"Oh my go-Cal?!"

"Yeah hi!!"

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm trying to move in! What are YOU doing here?!"

"Me too! A-and I'm going to school up here."

"Me too!"

Shaene's look of confusion startled Cal. He'd never seen this guy before, but here he was, standing next to one of his oldest and closest friends in the whole world. He didn't know whether to proceed with caution or kick the life out of the guy.

"Who are you?" said Cal to Shaene.

Abby glanced nervously at Cal, then at Shaene. Of course Cal didn't know about Shaene. They had gotten together about a year ago ... the year Abby had decided to fade away from "high school society." Abby began to introduce the two, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

"Caleb Johnston, this is Shaene Andicott. Cal is an old friend."

Both men glared somewhat suspiciously at each other, trying to size the other up. Although Cal and Abby had been friends for a very long time, they had never had a romantic relationship. They had always had the "best friend" type of relationship, so any guy Cal with whom he saw Abby always got the look over. Her last boyfriend had been a good friend of theirs. Their breakup hit the three of them hard, and was for Cal - especially hard. The friendship lay dormant since the breakup because he couldn't bear to see Abby with anyone else. "Brought it on himself, the doof. Abby knows he still loves her, but if he hadn't cheated on her, she would have accepted his proposal!" Cal thought to himself.

Before either man could regard one another further, another new resident of the building came bouncing down the stairs carrying a box so large that it towered over him. Everyone had to scramble to get out of his way because it was apparent that he had no idea was he was about to ... jump into. Once he got safely to the bottom of the stairs, he dropped his box on the floor beside him and then jumped back, startled when he realized he wasn't alone.

"Whoa. Hello. D-did I miss a building meeting or something?"

Everyone was finally up on his or her feet. After all the introductions were over, they began pairing off. Some had roommates they had yet to meet. Upon the realization that he was shaking the hand of his new roommate, Josh asked:

"Hey Mike, lemme ask yas. How is your last name pronounced?"

With a sigh, Mike responds: "Rotch. Go ahead."

Josh breaks out in uncontrollable fits of laughter.

"Your name is ... Mike Rotch?!"

"Yeah yeah. Mike Rotch in Apartment 69. Talk about poetic justice."

"I don't get it ..." a confused Janie proclaimed.

With another sigh, Mike answered: "Just sound it out and say my name as one word."

After a short pause, Janie started laughing.

"Rough break man."

After spending a little more time getting to know one another, they all began heading up the stairs to find their respective apartments. Things begin to calm down as they all went into their apartments and closed the door behind them. Suddenly, Cal opened his door and yelled into the hallway:

"Hey Mike?!"

"Yea?"

"What's your name again?"

"I already told you." Mike answered with exasperation.

Cal, with a confused look on his face, headed towards Mike's door, which was slightly ajar.

"You were SERIOUS about that?!"

Mike slammed the door shut in Cal's face while Josh, Cal's roommate, laughed from within their apartment. Smirking, Cal headed back to his apartment.

Abby smiled at the memories that lit her eyes with happiness and affection. The room was cool now that the sun had set. She cupped the flame of the candle to warm her hands. The one tiny flame of the candle lit the room, casting dancing shadows on Abby's face. Fragmented thoughts about Imbolc played in her mind as she rose from her knees. New beginnings ... seeds ... planting ... harvest ... what did it all mean for her? There in the darkened room lit only by the single candle for Imbolc, a spark of something yet unknown and unseen began to burn in Abby's heart and shone brightly, if only for a flickering moment, in her eyes.

Persephone Dreams
By Luna Willowsong

Persephone sleeps in a kingdom of snow and frozen ground.
It is not by chain or prison bars that she is bound,
but held captive by love and duty's formidable moat.
Scalding tears can not thaw the words of longing locked in her throat.
Persephone escapes, for a time alone, in blessed sleep
To dream of maiden feet dancing on velvet grass,
Of birdsong, sunshine, flowers plucked to keep.
The evergreens, stalwart sentinels, and wise,
Stand guard unspeaking, silent but for their abysmal sighs.
How loudly in their silence they mock!
As she dreams of the hearth where she knew freedom,
Laughter, the warmth of small talk?

Even a heart asleep and half frozen can be pierced and slumber broken
By the dullest dagger blade of deep longings unspoken.
What faintest stirrings in the dark, what dimmest spark,
Dare to intrude upon her rest,
Causing her pulse to race faster, heart thunder louder in her breast?
It is but a glimmer of hope, difficult to see,
in the ashes of imposibility,
Glowing warmly and softly, a lone ember.
Faintest hope lives, waiting only for her to remember.
It rises from the ashes, a phoenix on shimmering wing
Reborn in the possibility of what can be again come spring.

Oblivious in sleep, she sighs peacefully,
Reaching out to grasp what she does not yet see.
One hand curled loosely around the promise of spring,
She returns to deep rest,
Gently cradling
The ember of hope against her breast.
She smiles, now warm, the goddess,
Whom the Goddess has blessed.

December 27, 1999

Michael and Beth Chronicles
Moving Day
By Selene Silverwind
Slvrwind@aol.com

Beth Wickers tucked a loose strand of long auburn hair behind her ear as she lifted another box out of the back of her old Jeep Wrangler and hefted it into her arms. She had just turned to move toward her new apartment with the heavy load of books when Anacati Feathercloud approached. "Hi, I'm Anacati. Need some help?" Before Beth could answer, Anacati had grabbed a box and started carrying it into the classic garden-style building. "Six. Right?" she said.

"Yeah," Beth said, hurrying to catch up to Anacati. "Thank you so much. I'm Beth, by the way." As Beth followed her helper up the stairs, she appraised her with the eye of an artist. She recognized the sleek dark hair and red-olive skin as the tones of a Native American. She was relieved to learn that she lived in a diverse building, perhaps she would fit in well.

"Did you just move to the area?" Anacati asked, her question interrupting Beth's thoughts as they crossed the threshold into an almost empty one-bedroom unit.

"No, I've lived here for a couple years. I'm a fellow at the art college. I needed a change so I started looking and found this place."

"Good choice. You'll like it," Anacati said.

"If you're any indication, I'm sure I'll love it," Beth said. She glanced around the apartment, noting the lace valance Kyra, her landlady, had added to the large sunny window running the length of the living room. It added a homey touch to the bare room.

"So where do you want this?" Anacati prompted, holding out her box.

Beth nodded toward a corner and followed Anacati over, setting her box down on the hardwood floor with a sigh.

"No furniture yet?" Anacati asked.

"No, I still have to go buy it," Beth explained, stretching for the next trip up the stairs with more boxes.

Anacati moved toward the door. "Well, let me know you do. I'm sure the guys will be more than willing to help carry it."

"Guys?"

"Yeah, Michael next door, Mark downstairs, James upstairs, and Andrew in One with Kyra. They're good for man stuff," Anacati explained as she puffed up her chest with mock machismo and strutted out the door. Beth had to skip to catch up to her again as Anacati's long legs could carry her much faster than Beth's 5'3" limbs. "We're really just a big family here."

Later that day, Beth sat on the floor of her new apartment unpacking boxes of books and sorting them into piles. A large stack of new age and occult books was threatening to topple over next to her and a second stack of art books had already collapsed once. Beth started at the knock on the door and turned to see a dark-haired young man in the open doorway. He leaned in as he said, "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. I'm Michael, your next door neighbor."

Beth released her breath and waited for her heart to start pounding, but instead her pulse raced faster at the sight of the attractive man. "No harm done. Beth. Come on in," she said, motioning toward the floor. "I'd offer you a seat, but..."

Michael grinned and crossed the floor towards her. "I see the problem. The floor is fine for me."

"Can I at least offer you a soda?"

He held up his can of Coke as he settled on the floor next to her. "Brought my own, thanks though. I'll take you up on that eventually. Need help?"

Beth giggled. "Is everyone in the building always this helpful?" she asked.

Michael laughed. "Pretty much. So where can I start?"

Beth slid a box of books over to him. "With this box. Sort them by type like I am. Although I don't know why I'm even bothering with no bookcase to hold them."

Michael slid the box closest and peeled open the flaps. He lifted out a large art book and flipped through it before setting on top of the pile. "Art lover?"

"And student and teacher," Beth said with a nod.

As they continued to sort through the boxes they fell into a comfortable silence. When he reached a book on Egyptian mythology, Michael stopped to examine the thick volume more closely. "Anthropology student myself," he said by way of explanation.

"I love anthropology. But it's just a hobby for me. Any specific area you study?" Beth said.

Michael set the book in a new pile and reached into the box again. "I'm working on my Masters in Native American cultures. Living near Anacati has rubbed off on me."

"I met her. She helped me lug these upstairs," Beth said, indicating the boxes. "You're at the university then?"

"Yeah. And if my financial aid holds out, will be for the rest of my life."

Beth laughed and nodded. "I'm in about the same place," she said, "Nothing like a good fellowship to carry the determined student-for-life," she continued, then pointed to the book in his hand. "You can borrow that if you like."

Michael eyes lit up at the prospect of reviewing a culture he hadn't studied since his Freshman year. "Thanks I will. I may just keep it till you get something to keep it on," he joked.

Beth giggled and pushed a box toward him. "In that case, you can borrow these too."

"Um, when are you getting furniture?"

"This weekend, I hope."

"I'll just settle with this one, then," he said, "but let me know if you need any help moving it in," he said with a tone that indicated he'd really like it if she asked for his help.

Beth giggled again, his presence giving her stomach the nervous flutters she hadn't had to deal with for some time. "Actually, Anacati already volunteered you."

Michael's laugh came with a bellow. "I'll bet she did!"

Anxious that she might have misspoken, she plied a hesitant question. "You don't mind do you?"

Michael noted the concern in her voice and looked up from the book. As his eyes met hers again, a spark lit between them and he swallowed, trying to save himself from tumbling into her translucent peridot eyes. "Nah, she does that all the time. I guess that's what sisters do," he said casually to mask his stampeding pulse.

"You're related?" Beth asked with surprise. "You don't look anything alike."

Michael scrambled for an easy explanation. He was so at ease with her he had forgotten she was new to the building. "No, but everyone here is like a family to me."

"Anacati said something to that effect, too," Beth said.

Michael nodded. "Raven likes to keep things that way."

"Raven?" Beth asked with puzzlement at the reference.

Michael realized his mistake and tried to cover. A quick glance down at the pentacle pendant on her chest assured him that Raven had chosen her for a reason, but that Beth didn't know why yet. "I mean Kyra. She sometimes goes by Raven."

Beth took the information in without another question, a suspicion forming in her mind. "Interesting to know."

Michael jumped to his feet, anxious to leave Beth's apartment before he let anything else slip. "Well, I better get going. Research calls."

Beth glanced up as he made his way to the door. "Thanks for the help. I promise to call you when I need more."

"Great. Blessed be," he said as he popped out the door.

Almost by reflex, Beth responded "Blessed be," then realized what she'd just said. As Michael drifted down the hall with a slight smile on his face, Beth stared at the space in the door he had filled and replayed their conversation in her head, picking out the hints he had left and starting to piece them together. With a happy grin, she went back to sorting her books.


Her books unpacked, Beth rose and stretched her back as she looked around her empty apartment, picturing where everything would go. She crossed the room and dug through another box, pulling out a couple of blankets and tossing them on the floor with a couple over-stuffed pillow next to the phone. She lifted the cordless handset from the base and punched out the number for Janine, her best friend in another city, to tell her about her new residence.

After a few minutes of chatting about how life was treating each of them in general, her friend asked if she liked the new place. "You'll have to come visit soon," Beth said. "You'll love this place. It's a little garden building with a lawn in the middle. The landlady seems really sweet and I've already met two of the tenants. Michael came to help me unpack."

"Michael," came the probing query from the other end.

Beth giggled as she nestled down into the chenille cushion under her and absent-mindedly tugged at a loose thread in the blanket below her. "Yeah, he's my next door neighbor. Anthro student. Very sweet."

"I need more details," her friend pressed.

"OK, dark chocolate hair, gumball blue eyes, vanilla skin," she said.

"Sounds like you're ready to eat him up," came the obvious joke.

"Oh, stop. I haven't even told you the coolest part yet."

"I'm waiting."

"I think he's Pagan! And I suspect the landlady is, too."

"Small world. Does he know you are?"

"Well, I had my pendant on and I know he noticed it..."

"So tell me more about him," Janine said, putting on the pressure.

Beth tried to be coy, "I just met him... I don't really know very much..."

"You want him! I can hear it in your voice," Janine said.

"I do not! You know I'm not ready for that."

"Doesn't matter. Kurt was a jerk anyway. A little bit of vanilla goodness won't hurt you a bit."

Beth giggled and sighed. "Yes, Mom," she said, glancing at her watch. "I should go, though. I'm tired and my back is killing me."

"Okay, night. Miss you."

"I miss you, too. Night."

Beth pressed the disconnect button and set the phone back in the base, her other hand still picking at the loose strand. She examined it closer as her mind wandered unbidden back to how it had ended with Kurt. She sat back and crossed her arms over heart, trying to protect herself from the pain that had smacked her full force when she had first received his message on her voice pager telling her he was moving cross country. By the time she'd gotten home, all his belongings were gone and she was left with only a few boxes of stuff and a broken heart.

Beth had called the number Kurt had left her once, but hadn't been able to get the words out of her throat and hung up. She consoled herself with the thought that her sources told her was struggling there as much as he had in L.A. and Janine's words, "He was always self-defeating," echoed through her mind. But none of it made her feel better. Her spirit lightened as she forcefully changed her thoughts to the present and her new apartment. An image of Michael popped into her head and she smiled wide as she started to let herself fantasize about what his lips would feel like on her skin.

She hugged herself and let out a squeal as she let his lips wander up to hers in her mind and imagined what that kiss would be like. And a Pagan, she reminded herself. She'd never been with a Pagan before. The prospect was very exciting.

A knock at the door interrupted her reverie and she jumped up to answer the door. It was Kyra popping in to check on her new tenant. She carried with her a sleeping bag and a basket holding a teapot and two teacups. "Michael told me you didn't have furniture yet. I thought you could use this," she said, offering the sleeping bag to Beth.

"Thank you, that's very sweet. Come in," Beth took the sleeping bag from Kyra and stepped to the side to let Kyra in. After closing the door, Beth followed Kyra into the living room where she was laying out two throw pillows for chairs. As they settled onto the pillows, Kyra poured a cup of tea for each of them. Beth lifted the steaming cup up to her lips, the aroma of rose hips and honey soothing her exhausted bones. "Mmmm, this smells wonderful. Where did you get it?"

"Oh, I made it myself. All the herbs in the courtyard are mine. Just pop by anytime you need fresh herbs. And everyone is welcome to some of each batch of tea. So how are you settling in?"

Beth glanced around the apartment. "This is it. I'll get something besides these pillows to sit on this weekend."

"Michael mentioned that. Let me know if you need help moving it in, my husband Adam is very handy with carrying heavy things."

"I must be living a fantasy. Is there anyone here who isn't helpful?" Beth said with a wide smile.

Kyra chuckled with the warmth of a den mother. "I'm sorry to report that everyone here is at your service. We try to keep it a family."

"I think I'm really going to like it here," Beth said with an appreciative nod, then raised her hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn, hoping Kyra hadn't noticed it and thought her rude.

"Well, I can see you're tired. I'll get going," Kyra said setting her cup in her basket and climbing to her feet. "Come see me anytime." Beth started to stand and follow Kyra to the door, but Kyra stopped her. "No, no need. You rest. You can bring me the cup tomorrow."

"Thank you, Kyra. Goodnight."

"Night, dear," Kyra said, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Beth watched Kyra leave and set her tea down on the floor. She rolled onto her feet and retrieved the sleeping bag, unrolling it on top of the blanket on the floor. She went over to a couple boxes stacked in the corner and rummaged through until she found her favorite bedpillow, her nightshirt, and a cotton throw.

She tugged off her clothes and tossed them in the corner, then slipped her satin nightshirt over her pale skin. She tugged a brush through her tousled hair, then stepped to the door to turn the lock. It bolted with a satisfying click and Beth turned around, leaning back against the door to survey her new apartment. A satisfied smile crept across her face as she fantasized about what life in her new building would be like. In her heart, she knew that this was the beginning of a change of tides.

She padded over to the sleeping bag and slid inside, snapping off the lamp beside her. She curled into a ball and was asleep as soon as her head met the fluffy pillow, her cat-like smile still etched on her lips.

The Ugly Duckling's Daughter
By Baboo Kyra Finch

I'm sure you have heard the story of the Ugly Duckling...how her egg
accidentally rolled into a duck's nest, and how she lived as an outcast
among the ducks until she discovered that she was a swan, not a duck, after all. Well, this is the tale of what happened after she joined the flock of swans and began a family of her own. This story is about the Ugly Duckling's Daughter.

Her name was Swanlinda, or Beautiful Swan. She did not have an easy time. Having been reared by ducks, she had had no swannish role models. She had experience as an outcast, but none as a member of a group.

She was very cautious. She watched the behavior of what seemed to be the "in crowd." She was beautiful, and she was smart. She was good at mimicking socially acceptable mannerisms.

Swans hold their heads high upon their necks, looking disdainfully at the world. She held her head highest and straightest, and looked neither left nor right. She darted her beak into the water for a snack without the slightest splash, never missing or dropping her prize. She remained aloof from all other lake residents and visitors, consorting only with other swans.

She became the paragon of swannishness. Other swans pointed to her as an example for the young cygnets. "See Swanlinda?," they would say, "She wasn't born into our flock, but even so, take note of her excellent manners. Do try to be more like her"!

They never realized how difficult it was for her to do those things they knew from hatching. She had to remain alert constantly, checking herself in the reflecting water, minding each sound she uttered. The most important thing for her was to fit in and to be an outcast no longer.

She managed to convince herself that the swans' cry was not raucous, but assertive; that swimming in circles all day was not boring, but dignified. She learned how to conform, to fit in, to belong.

Being the perfect example of a Hen Swan, she was courted by all of the Cobs. Swans mate for life, so she was very careful to choose a mate of high social status and excellent background. The flock roundly approved the match. They settled down to mated life together.

That spring they became parents to 13 perfect cygnets. The first twelve hatchlings were well behaved. They were sources of joy and pride to both their mother and father. However, the last and smallest was a difficult chick from the day she broke through her egg with her egg tooth.

Cygnetta looked the perfect baby swan, but her behavior was anything but acceptable. While her siblings followed their parents in perfect formation, she darting off investigating everything in the lake. Just learning to be a swan didn't satisfy her. She would copy all the birds and animals.

She followed the ducks, waddling and trying to quack and balanced awkwardly on lily pads with the frogs. Worst of all, she loved hanging with the geese! Now, swans considered geese large, ungainly, noisy, dirty, rude imitations of swans. Cygnetta, tiny in their company, would run with the geese through the dirty farmyard, bullying the other animals. With the geese, she stole corn from the chickens and oats from the horses. They chased the farmer's children and dogs, scaring them with flapping wings and pecking beaks. She would return home muddy, unpreened, exhausted, and utterly happy.

Her parents were appalled. Her father blamed it all on her mother's unorthodox background. Her mother blamed it on her father's busy schedule and lack of parental attention. They bickered on and on as to whose fault it was, while the other swans watched Cygnetta's antics with horror. They, of course, felt both parents were at fault, Why, what she needed was a firm wing!

Cygnetta had inherited Swanlinda's beauty, but her attitude was her own. Both beauty and attitude grew day by day. The young cobs found her intriguing. They followed her, courted her, and lied to each other about her morals. She ignored them. When her mother begged her to please choose a mate and settle down, she exclaimed, "Those cobs are boring, arrogant and have no imagination whatsoever. This pond is far too small to be the entire world." Her poor mother would reply, "Just wait. Raising a brood will prove to be quite an adventure, you'll see!"

But off Cygnetta would fly...small, graceful, and trying with all her heart to produce a suitable honk.

Swanlinda took Cygnetta to speak with the flock elders. They lectured her on correct swan deportment.

"The swan is an elegant and regal bird, the royalty of feathered beings. We are born to grace the cultivated waters of kings and emperors, and to impress all with our beauty and grace. We do not chase children and livestock; we do not fly off with other species, abandoning our dignity and responsibilities; and, mostly, we do not honk!"

Cygnetta would sit in the sun, watching the diamond ripples in the lake and the living arrows of flying geese overhead. She thought about how swans' voices seemed so raucous, out of keeping with their looks. She thought of how interesting were the lives and sounds of other animals. She thought about everything but the droning lecture being given her by the flock elders.

Meanwhile, her poor mother was really beside herself. After all her efforts to conform and belong, to give a place of prestige and respect to her family within the flock, here was her daughter who gave not one feather about the family's reputation. She feared becoming the outcast once more, just because her daughter could not resist flying off with those silly geese. As much as she loved Cygnetta, she did not understand her at all. Didn't that cygnet understand how important community acceptance was to a flocking bird?

She swung from anger to horror to fear and back to anger. She begged, pleaded, bribed, threatened, cajoled, wept, but all to no avail. As soon as Swanlinda turned her back, off flew Cygnetta to do who knows what with who knows whom!

Cygnetta was fully grown. She was small but strong. She was willful and magnificent. It was autumn.

Cygnetta went to her parents and announced, "Mother, Father, I love you dearly, but this lake is too small a world for me. I am going to migrate with the geese!"

Her parents recoiled in shock and fear. "You cannot go with the wild geese. They go to foreign lands, with strange creatures and dangers. They go where things are different!"

Cygnetta replied gently, "I must follow my spirit. I must go where the
wild geese go."

She nodded her beak to her parents in a gesture of farewell, and off she flew.

Her parents watched the arrow shooting through the autumn sky, with a small speck flying valiantly in the formation of larger birds. They watched until the geese were out of sight. Then they sighed, with sorrow, a little envy, and relief.

Dragon Circle
By Vixen Deamantra

Golden are the tones of the bardic singing dragon.
From the mountains to the sea, hear her cries of hearth and home.
Neverending, always searching for the perfect way to reach us
She rides her minstrel dragon as her siren spellsong grows.

Water dragon rises sharply from deep among the ocean's depths.
Where time has lost all meaning, visions come at her behest.
By regressing, she progresses through time's winding open door.
And she rides her questing dragon as her psychic insight grows.

Velvet skies and grassy fields are earth dragon's sacred space.
Given to her by the spirits that she guides each soul to face.
Always gentle, with compassion, she will ease the weary home.
And she rides her emerald dragon as her bond with spirit grows.

In the south the fire dragon screams, demanding independence.
While she uses unleashed power to heal the world's greatest woes.
She draws the needy to her like the moth goes to the ember,
And she rides her fiery dragon as her healing power grows.

There is one who weaves the fates of the mortal lives she touches.
For she shapeshifts like the fox in the mundane world below,
In the void she is the crow, seeing natural law with wonder.
And she rides her chaos dragon while life's passion in her grows.

We are the dragon sisters, five souls bonded to each other
In a circle that is open, but is bound around by love.
We sing the songs of life; healing, speaking, feeling, weaving.
And with our dragons in the night, we dance among the stars above,

Vixen Deamantra
11/15/1999

Walking Between Worlds
Dealing with Spiritual Residues
By Michelle A. Belanger
SongOfWisdom@aol.com

As beings made up of both matter and spirit, we humans are constantly moving in two worlds at once. Even if we are completely unaware of our spiritual side, we cannot help but affect the subtle reality around us.

Our very passage can alter it, and strong emotions can leave an indelible stamp on the places we have been. Consider dust in the physical world. Do you know where dust comes from? Dust is almost completely made up of shed human skin. Wherever we live, we leave a physical trace of our living there. On the subtle level, we leave traces as well. Emotions, especially, build up in the places we live.

Consider spiritual residues our subtle "dust".
When we live in a place and we never clean it out, the dust gets thick.

There are always places in a house where dust seems to gather in droves. If it isn't cleaned out, it will build up and build up until there's huge, ugly drifts of it. The same goes for the subtle aspect of the places we live in. If we don't cleanse things out spiritually once in a while, all that cast-off energy and emotion builds up. The worst part is that most people have no idea they need to cleanse their spiritual living places, let alone how to do it. So they just let things build up.

Most often, the spiritual residues you will come across were formed from strong emotion. For example, some friends of mine rented the bottom half of a house in college. It was in a good enough neighborhood, inexpensive but not run-down. A few weeks after they moved in, my friends, who had never had any interpersonal problems before, began to fight. The way they described it, all of them could be in the best of moods right up until they came home. After they had come home and settled down for a bit, however, they got angry and frustrated. Every little thing would piss them off.

Despite their personal differences, the still wanted to have a housewarming party. They set a date and invited a lot of friends. It was the worst party I have ever been to. The minute anyone walked through the front door, they seemed to develop a foul mood. Tempers flared over the most ridiculous things. By the end of the night, everyone had gone home angry at everyone else.

As it happened, I ran into one of the people who had rented the house before my friends moved in. We stopped and had a chat on campus. I asked where he was living now, and he mentioned an apartment complex a few blocks away. Then he started telling me how grateful he was to be out of the house - because he and his roommates had experienced the same trouble while they were staying there. The house just seemed to breed anger, and the more angry people got in the house, the more the emotion built up in the walls.

Some places are more receptive to spiritual residues than others, just like dust tends to always build up in the same places in your house. In the subtle reality, emotions build up. Negative emotions seem to build up more quickly than positive ones. They certainly are gunkier. Even if someone is not sensitive to subtle impressions, they will still unconsciously react to them. It is the nature of a spiritual residue to inspire the same kind of emotions that created it. That way it perpetuates itself. It doesn't necessarily intend to perpetuate itself. There's almost never any sentience to a spiritual residue. But it projects the kind of emotions that created it, like a mushroom producing spores. Your best course of action when encountering something like this is to clean it up as well as you can.

If you are adept at energy manipulation, one way to clean up a home is to simply go through each room and "scrape" away whatever negative energies have built up on the subtle level. Different traditions and different people of course have different techniques for this, but the basic idea is to reach out with your subtle body, scrape down the walls, corners, and closets, gather all the negative energy into a ball, and dispose of it (usually into rock salt, although I toss it out the front door and let nature recycle it in her own way).

When I clean a home out in this fashion, if it's a multiple story structure, I start from the top, working my way down. On each floor, I go to the room farthest away from the main entrance and work my way toward the main entrance, gathering all the "ick" up as I go. All closet doors, cupboard doors, and other potential hidey holes need to be opened up and left open until the cleansing is finished. No corner should be over-looked ; you should make a special effort to clean out those areas that are often forgotten or left to gather clutter and dust. Just as these areas gather physical clutter, so do they gather clutter on the subtle level. I usually try to move clockwise through a room, starting with the least used areas (closets, cupboards) and moving everything out, toward the door. It doesn't really matter what direction you move in, but you should try to be consistent so you don't miss or overlook any part of any room.

Once I have gone through all the rooms, moving from top to bottom and from the back to the front, always ending at the door, I usually have a good armload of spiritual gunk collected from the house. I have someone open the front door for me (or whatever door is used most often for entry into the house) and I walk a short distance from the house and release the dirt. It's kind of like shaking out a dusty carpet on a summer afternoon. The dirt will disperse naturally out of doors, even the nastiest stuff spreading out into something relatively harmless. If you really have issues about taking your spiritual garbage out and dumping it on the front lawn where neighbors might pick it up, you can have a bowl of salt ready when you do the cleansing and dispose of the negative energy in there.

Another way of cleaning house is to do just precisely that. Going from the top down and from the back to the front, always working toward the doors, clean out your living space. Dust, straighten, wash the walls, and while you are doing this, also focus your activities with the intent of cleaning more than just the physical aspect of the house. As you wipe away dirt from the walls, reach out on the level of the subtle reality and also scrape away any negative energies that have built up. As you clean out the cramped closets and back hidey holes, throwing away the worn out junk you don't really need anymore, try also to mentally throw out any old ideas, attitudes, or habits that you also don't really need to keep around any more. Open the front door and sweep out the dust and refuse, focusing on the broom so it sweeps away more than just physical dirt. Finish up by burning incense in every room and fuming the living space so it smells clean and fresh.

Just as you should try to keep up on the regular house-cleaning, so should you try to make an effort to clean out your psychic space as well. As I've demonstrated above, even if we aren't aware of it, we respond to the subtle aspect of our surroundings. If a place is cluttered, cramped, dirty, or oppressive, it can only have a negative effect on our spiritual well-being. And it really doesn't take a whole lot of effort to clean things away. Regularly cleaning out the subtle residues from your living space will make your home a healthier and more peaceful place for you, your family, and all who come to visit.