Andro--gyny - ANDRO GYNY

Made a small zine ✨ Venus approves 🐱

hey, solidarity to everyone out in philly tonight protesting the police murder of walter wallace jr. i know the story’s probably gonna get buried by all the supreme court stuff, so if anyone out there has a specific bail fund or mutual aid org that people trust out there please let me know about it so i can boost it. i’ll be keeping an eye out in the coming days

“Beware the autumn people. For some, autumn comes early, stays late, through life, where October follows September and November touches October and then instead of December and Christ’s birth there is no Bethlehem Star, no rejoicing, but September comes again and old October and so on down the years, with no winter, spring or revivifying summer. For these beings, fall is the only normal season, the only weather, there be no choice beyond.

Where do they come from? The dust. Where do they go? The grave. Does blood stir their veins? No, the night wind. What ticks in their head? The worm. What speaks through their mouth? The toad. What sees from their eye? The snake. What hears with their ear? The abyss between the stars.

They sift the human storm for souls, eat flesh of reason, fill tombs with sinners. They frenzy forth. In gusts they beetle-scurry, creep, thread, filter, motion, make all moons sullen, and surely cloud all clear-run waters. The spider-web hears them, trembles—breaks. Such are the autumn people. Beware of them.”

— Ray Bradbury, Something Wicked This Way Comes.

Image: “Autumn People” by Frank Frazetta.

Halloween, Oíche Shamhna, Lá Samhna, Neo-Pagan Samhain, Día de Muertos, La Calabiuza, and my birthday. An actual 13th blue moon to close out the Witch's Year on the Neo-Pagan New Year that is Samhain?! I'm not Wiccan but I can't wait to see what that magic brings regardless. An eclipse coming as well. Woo! Action packed next few days! The Ancestors and Mighty Dead have been very strong and active this Dead Season. La Santísima and Her Husband Mictlantecuhtli really out here ready to shower in miracles. Can't wait to see what the future brings! May one book close and another more blessed narrative begin. A new story, new chapter open up.

“The King of the Cats”: a British folk tale

One winter’s evening the sexton’s wife was sitting by the fireside with her big black cat, Old Tom, on the other side, both half asleep and waiting for the master to come home. They waited and they waited, but still he didn’t come, till at last he came rushing in, calling out, ‘Who’s Tommy Tildrum?’ in such a wild way that both his wife and his cat stared at him to know what was the matter.

‘Why, what’s the matter?’ said his wife, 'and why do you want to know who Tommy Tildrum is?’

'Oh, I’ve had such an adventure. I was digging away at old Mr Fordyce’s grave when I suppose I must have dropped asleep, and only woke up by hearing a cat's Miaou.’

'Miaou!' said Old Tom in answer.

'Yes, just like that! So I looked over the edge of the grave, and what do you think I saw?’

'Now, how can I tell?’ said the sexton’s wife.

'Why, nine black cats all like our friend Tom here, all with a white spot on their chestesses. And what do you think they were carrying? Why, a small coffin covered with a black velvet pall, and on the pall was a small coronet all of gold, and at every third step they took they cried all together, Miaou – ’

'Miaou!' said Old Tom again.

'Yes, just like that!’ said the sexton; 'and as they came nearer and nearer to me I could see them more distinctly; because their eyes shone out with a sort of green light. Well, they all came towards me, eight of them carrying the coffin, and the biggest cat of all walking in front for all the world like – but look at our Tom, how he’s looking at me. You’d think he knew all I was saying.’

'Go on, go on,’ said his wife; 'never mind Old Tom.’

'Well, as I was a-saying, they came towards me slowly and solemnly, and at every third step crying all together, Miaou –’

'Miaou!' said Old Tom again.

'Yes, just like that, till they came and stood right opposite Mr Fordyce’s grave, where I was, when they all stood still and looked straight at me. I did feel queer, that I did! But look at Old Tom; he’s looking at me just like they did.’

'Go on, go on,’ said his wife; 'never mind Old Tom.’

'Where was I? Oh, they stood still looking at me, when the one that wasn’t carrying the coffin came forward and, staring straight at me, said to me – yes, I tell 'ee, said to me, with a squeaky voice, “Tell Tom Tildrum that Tim Toidrum’s dead,” and that’s why I asked you if you knew who Tom Tildrum was, for how can I tell Tom Tildrum Tim Toldrum’s dead if I don’t know who Tom Tildrum is?’

'Look at Old Tom, look at Old Tom!’ screamed his wife.

And well he might look, for Tom was swelling and Tom was staring, and at last Tom shrieked out, 'What – old Tom dead! then I’m the King o’ the Cats!’ and rushed up the chimney and was nevermore seen.

Repeat after me: I am healing.

To be able to interact with gods and spirits, or anything of the spiritual, you need to cultivate a bit of, perhaps, child-like wonder and awe for the world.

You need to reorganize your perception of the material world that so everything around you is indwelled with spirit force, and animate consciousness. You did this as a child (it is natural to us!), but then you were taught physiological reasons for animate phenomena.

Those physiological explanations do not discount the spiritual - indeed, they are the RESULT of spiritual animism. Does not the mind, our consciousness, think first before we lift the hand to write or paint or love?

Why should the material world be any different?

Cultivate your wonder and awe. Reorganize your perceptions of the world.

Grimalkin & the Cat Sìth

Grimalkin (also spelled a Greymalkin) is an archaic term that was often used to describe cats; particularly haggard, female cats. The term stems from the color “grey" and the archaic word "malkin", which was a term with various meanings and was derived from a hypocoristic form of the given name Maud. Debate surrounds the etymological evolution of the term from woman to cat, but regardless, Grimalkin eventually came to be referenced in Scottish legend as a Faerie Cat that prowled the highlands. Though mythological sources are scarce, The Grimalkin is consistently identified with the Cat Sìth (or Cat Sidhe) of Celtic folklore, and is generally represented as a demon or shapeshifter. In line with Celtic Faerie-lore, Grimalkin is described as a Spectral Cat the size of a wolf or horse, who stalks the Scottish hills and moors.

According to legend, the Cat Sìth is said to appear as a large black cat with a white spot on its chest. Further cementing the role of Grimalkin as a ferocious Faerie of the Cat Sìth is the fact that virtually all Scottish legends surrounding the beings make reference to their size, ferocity, and propensity for the highlands. Some of the more common folklore suggested that the Cat Sìth was not a faerie at all, but, in fact, a witch who could transform into a feline guise nine times. The tales indicate that, while a witch could transform freely between her humanoid and feline forms, she had only eight opportunities to do so; if she were to transform a ninth time, she would be doomed to spend the rest of her days as a cat. It is believed by some that the idea of a cat having nine lives originated with this folkloric concept.

As with the dangerous reputation of the Grimalkin, the people of the Scottish Highlands were often untrusting of the Cat Sìth. This was largely, in part, because it was believed that a Cat Sìth was able steal a person's soul before it could be claimed by the gods, needing only to pass over a corpse before burial to claim the soul for its own. Therefore, protective watches called the Feill Fadalach (Late Wake) were performed through both night and day, in order to keep at bay any Cat Sìth that might appear to claim a person’s spirit. Methods of "distraction" were frequently employed to keep the Cat Sìth away from the room that housed the body of the deceased, such as games of leaping and wrestling, offerings of catnip, musical performance, and the telling of riddles. Aditionally, no fires were to be lit in the vicinity of the body, as it was widely believed that, much like mundane cats, the Cat Sìth were attracted to the warmth. Even though most folk in the region were distrusting of the Cat Sìth, certain rites were to be performed in their honor. On Samhain, for instance, it was said that a Cat Sìth would bestow blessings upon any house that left out a saucer of milk for it to drink. Those who did not leave offerings of milk, however, were at risk of being cursed by the Sìth with scarcity; particularly in the form of their cows’ milk running dry. Contrasted with their menacing reputation throughout the Scottish highlands, one of the less daunting accounts the Faerie Cat can be found in the British folktale “The King of the Cats.” In it, a man comes home to his wife and housecat, Old Tom, and explains enthusiastically that he had seen nine black cats with white spots on their chests carrying a coffin topped with a crown. The man relays that one of the cats told him to "Tell Tom Tildrum that Tim Toldrum is dead." The cat then exclaims, "What?! Old Tim dead! Then I'm the King o' the Cats!" before climbing up the chimney to never be seen again. It would seem, then, that the vast majority of the tales regarding the Cat Sìth which might lend themselves to the figure of Grimalkin arose in Scottish folklore.

Another practice related to the Cat Sìth, which illustrates certain connections to the Grimalkin, is the grizzly ceremony that was known as the Taghairm. Sometimes translates as "spirit echo," the Taghairm was an ancient Scottish method of divination reviled throughout much of the Hebrides. The defined requirements of the ceremony varied, but always involved the torture of animals or people, and sometimes included animal sacrifice. One variation of the Taghairm, aiming to raise the Devil for the sake of fulfilling dark wishes, called for the roasting of live cats, one after the other, for several days without eating or sleeping. This was said to summon a horde of shrieking devils who appeared as black cats, with their master at their helm. Another version of the ritual was said to summon a Great Demonic Cat known as “Mòra Cluasan” (Big Ears,) who would answer any question and grant any wish of the summoner. Both these variations on the Hebridean ceremony make reference to a mighty demonic cat, vicious even amongst the Cat Sìth, which ties in clearly to multiple aspects of the figure known as Grimalkin.

While reading a Norse magical text, I once came across multiple references to Grimalkin, or Grimalkyn, in Scandinavian mythology and folklore. However, I have not been able to find any source to corroborate that mythological connection as of yet.

Nothing like waking up to the sunny chill of November. A blessed All Saints Day.

My eyes are like pools of rich xocolatl, when hit in the right angle, they light up like amber on fire. Like the holy sun pouring through stain glass windows in the cathedral that is my body. Othertimes like the dark bark of redwood trees along the foggy coasts. They are a reminder of our connection to the Land and the richness of life, though bitter at times it might be. They aren't signs that we're full of shit - full of holy shit, maybe. Full of gold. Like the honey wine of poetic inspiration. Like the resin tears of Electrum, mourning the fallen star and dead sun. Windows to our soul, to our own inner Divinity. Native brown eyes are beautiful and aren't romanticized enough. I'll do it myself if I have to.