Still Learning ~ Keys and Incense

I spent most of yesterday meditating on keys. No surprise there since the key is one of the primary symbols of Hestia.

Some of you may know that I recently got a new tattoo on my arm of a key, to symbolize my devotion to Hestia.

The top part of the key, within the circle (the circle being the artistic liberty of DO who designs and applies all of my inkwork) is a symbol we found online connected to Hestia, representing the hearth-fire.

This is probably my most meaningful tattoo to date. I wanted it somewhere I could easily see it because it represents, not only my devotion to Hestia, but my devotion to my home and family as well as my path as a Kitchen Witch.

In my meditations yesterday, I asked myself what keys specifically symbolize to me.

I remember the very first key I owned as a child and that was a very small key that came with a diary I was given for Christmas one year. That key symbolized privacy and the keeping of secrets.

A common symbol of keeping a secret as a child was to mimic the turning of a key over your mouth and toss the key away.

The next key I owned was a key to my childhood home. If you’ve been following the Facebook page, you probably know I’ve been dreaming a lot about that house recently. Perhaps it’s because of the thinning of the veil, perhaps it’s because I’ve been thinking so much about keys, and that house was the first place I owned a key to. For me, that key symbolized maturity and sanctuary. I had been deemed “old enough” to be responsible for a key to “home”. I could never be locked out or denied entry.

Another key from my childhood that I did not own but that I had access to, and was very important to me, was a key to what we called “under the house”.

Not a basement  really. You couldn’t stand upright and the floor of it was dirt. It got smaller as you went deeper in. This was the home of the hearth fire. The furnace, with the pilot light that was forever going out when you opened the outside door or a gust caught the gap at the back porch just right. It was also home to my most prized possession, my bicycle.

That key symbolized both the freedom my bicycle offered and protection. The safe-guarding of my bike was my first lesson in protecting the things that mattered to me.

Moving through life, keys have been a sign of status, a symbol of protection, a representation of holding the key to someone’s heart (remember the necklaces that were a heart and key), a symbol of safety and security, and a symbol of secrets.

We only “lock up” things that matter to us, things we wish to protect. We lock our cars and homes to prevent theft, we lock our doors to protect ourselves and those we love.

We lock up anything of value, including ourselves and our hearts, sometimes.

I realized that keys have played a major role in my life since my earliest childhood memories.

I also took some time last night and this morning to study the making of incense (a study that is on-going), another thing that has held much meaning in my life.

I have a thing about smells, both good and bad. My mother had the nose of a bloodhound and was all about smells. I’m sure that’s where I get it from.

Some of my other early memories are of my mother obsessing over smells. I was what my family called a “yard child”. Growing up, we weren’t allowed to sit in the house all day like kids are now. I was also a tom-boy. One of my mother’s first commands was “go take a bath, you smell like sweat and yard” or if I’d been playing with someone’s pet “go take a bath, you smell like wet dog”. She could tell where I’d been and what I’d been doing with one sniff.

She was just as funny about house smells. She was forever cleaning and being in her twenties in the 70’s, she was always burning incense.

I grew up with incense, lava lamps and bead curtains, some of the things I still love.

Even I find it surprising that I never learned to make incense. I’m really not sure how that skill passed me by other than because of the ease of simply purchasing them nearly everywhere until recently.

However it once escaped me, I decided one of the things I wanted to include in the shop next year (and make for myself) was incense and I’ve made it my business to start researching it. It’s a good thing I started early because I’ve gotten rusty on some of the associations for things outside of my spice cabinet in the kitchen, so part of that learning curve will be to familiarize myself with those associations again.

It’s been busy, as you can tell. I’m realizing that it’s a blessing in some ways that I haven’t been able to jump head-first into the store. This time to think and plan may very well end up being the difference between success and failure for me.



Finding Focus – Finding My Way

I’ve mentioned before that I’m a Pisces, so it should come as no surprise that I enjoy spending time near water. Luckily, there is a lake about 45 minutes from where I live.

I had to make a run today for some craft supplies and it just so happens that we cross that lake going both ways.

On the way home, we found a little out of the way place and had lunch on a little bank looking out over the water.

Water does a lot for me. It soothes and recharges me but it also helps


me focus and sort out problems. Today was no different.

As I sat looking out at the rolling waves of a heavy chop, I thought about a few questions that’s been reoccurring a lot lately. What makes me happy? What kind of life do I really want?

I know, some of you may be thinking, “Wicked, you’re almost 40. Shouldn’t you have figured this out a long time ago?”

Maybe I should have, but the truth is, I’ve never really had roots anywhere. The unwanted child, threatened with being sent to a girl’s home until I was 12 and went to live with my mother.

Between 12 and 17, we moved three times.

At 17, I was out on my own with the boy who would be my first husband. In two years, we lived in five places.

After we separated, I lived in a number of places, including my car, until I meet DO.

DO was in the army when we met and went on to drive a tractor tailor for over a year. Home was wherever we parked at night. Because of this wanderlust, we traveled light and didn’t really own anything until about 2 years after we got together.

Since then, I can’t count how many places we’ve lived.

“Stability” has been measured by staying together, not by staying in one place.

EQ asked me a year ago (and again a few months ago), what kind of life I wanted. I parroted off what I guess you’re supposed to say when someone asks you that, but the truth is, I wasn’t really sure.

The last year has been an exercise in trying to find out what that actually was.

What I ended up finding out was all the things I didn’t want.

Roots and wings don’t usually go hand-in-hand. An effort to find a balance between them landed us in the camper back in March.

It wasn’t a completely horrible experience. There were parts of it that I actually loved and under different circumstances, I’d gladly do it again.

I will say this. Don’t assume that just because a smaller one is easier to transport, that it’s easy to live in. Don’t underestimate the importance of dedicated rooms and a decent-sized bed. Don’t buy a really old one and think you can fix it up, especially if it’s been siting unused for a while. More things break than you think will.

I suggest buying new, or nearly new. One with a living room, bedroom, bathroom and kitchen at the very least for full-time living.

What I loved most about it was it being a more rustic-style of living and cheaper to run. I loved the idea of a portable washing machine, clothes hanging on a line, trees all around (once I got used to the large wildlife anyway, lol), feeling so close to nature in so many ways.

I missed regular plumbing, but if we’d been somewhere with septic hookups, it wouldn’t have been as bad.

What I didn’t love was lack of space. Space for storage and space to move. Feeling like I was tripping over everything we owned with no where to put anything. The tiny kitchen was a pain, too, for someone that loves cooking as much as I do.

So I spent time thinking about all that and then I spent some time talking to DO and doing a little research.

After all that, I realized that it wasn’t the camper I wanted, exactly. The camper was one way to accomplish that goal, but not the only one.

There is a name for the kind of life I want. It’s called Modern Urban Homesteading.

I like having certain things. I’m a blogger and now I run all the online interests of mine and EQ’s business as well. I’m not giving up computers, internet or cell phones unless I have to.

What I would like to do is spend my days crafting, canning, baking bread, making cookies and homemade wine and writing.

I like for the TV to be off when there’s nothing on. I like the idea of idle moments being opportunities to be creative or productive.

I like the idea of knowing (at least mostly) where my food comes from and what is in it.

One day, if we ever do buy a place, I’d like to walk outside and get my eggs directly from the chicken in the mornings.

As I’ve found out, all of that is still considered homesteading, just not in the extreme sense. It’s Modern Homesteading in urban areas. People who still have internet, electricity and indoor plumbing but try to reduce their impact and develop a closer relationship with their life and the things they use and consume.

We aren’t vegetarians, so DO is considering eventually hunting and fishing for our meat. We’ll then use whatever other parts of the animals we can. Some of those things might eventually turn up in the Etsy store since EQ and I are both part Native American, RH was a Boy Scout and DO grew up on a farm. We all share the idea that if you’re going to hunt, do it for food and use everything you can.

People may scoff at the idea of living this way within the modern world, and I’m sure not everyone will understand, but this is the life that I think would make me feel happy and fulfilled. It appeals to my roots as a Native American and also my ideals as a Pagan. DO agrees and wants the same life.

I credit, and give thanks, to my Gods for helping me see this. For giving me the direction and space I needed to figure it out and for leading me to an afternoon spent on the bank of the river to find the focus to figure it out.


Honoring the Dead

The man in the picture was my grandfather, my mother’s father.

He passed when I was in my late 20’s and not a day goes by that I don’t miss him.

He was an unusual man, with an unusual sense of humor, and an unusual outlook on life. I loved him very, very much.

He was always good to me, even when I didn’t deserve it and I tried to pay him back by caring for him when he became ill.

I spent countless nights on a hospital cot when my own family needed me at home, so he wouldn’t be alone. There was nothing I wouldn’t have done for him if I could have.

This is the time of year when I remember him most frequently and clearly.

When I think of trying to live my life in a way that would make someone proud, he is one of the first people to come to mind.

When I need help, advice, guidance, it’s his voice I long to hear most.

He was my Papa and I loved him more than words can say. When I think of honoring an ancestor, he is one that was truly worthy of honor.


Magickal Housekeeping ~ Removing Negativity

The last two days, I’ve found myself handling “the season” for family. I’d already reinforced my protective wards for where we live, and today, I found myself doing the same for a family member along with a sweeping and a few days ago I had to give long-distance info to the kids on sageing their home because something is waking the grandbaby in the middle of the night. We can’t be having that.

My family is full of sensitives. It seems we all can either see, hear or feel spirits. It also feels like the spirits know this, like we send out a beacon or something, and it’s always worse in October.

For getting rid of negative/unwanted energies, I’ve seen almost as many methods as Pagans who do it. Keep in mind, I follow no particular path anymore except my own. I don’t do elaborate spells. Witchcraft runs in my family but the two generations before me were Christian, so I’ve had no training other than reading. I usually just do what feels “right”.

For the kids, they asked about using sage. They don’t have a car and there are no occult stores near their house, so getting a proper “bundle” is out. I told them my quick fix. Ground sage from the grocery store and a charcoal briquette. Simple and cheap.

As for the sweeping, it’s exactly what it sounds like, and something I do daily at home. I sweep with the intent of sweeping out negative energy.

Magick doesn’t have to be complicated if you don’t want it to be. Just apply a little common sense, intent and imagination!


All I had to do was ask…

Finances have been topping the list of “things we’d rather ignore” in the Lair, as of late. There have been mixed rumors about how long Draco’s overtime would last and the holidays are coming. The company will be closed 2 days for Thanksgiving and since Draco is currently a temp, he won’t get paid for them. Needless to say, it’s had me a little concerned.

This morning, out of the blue, Tiger calls me. Looks like we’re back in business. I’m so excited I can’t see straight.

Honestly, it couldn’t have come at a better time for us.

It takes so much worry off my mind as well as giving me something to do. Between this and the Etsy store, I might find myself working damn-near full-time, but doing things I enjoy rather than punching a clock.

Also, it gives me an excuse to spend more time with Tiger, who I have seriously missed since we moved out. Sounds like a win-win to me.

I’m not sure how much of an effect this will all have on my recent plans for blogging, if any, but I do still have a house to run in addition to any work I do as well as having time for myself, my hubby, my spiritual path and just general down-time. I suppose that part I will just have to play by ear.

As for now, I have to go do dinner prep because I have to pick up Draco in an hour.

All in all, I can seriously see Hestia moving through my life, helping me bring security to my home…and all I had to do was ask…


Taking a moment ~ Sunday Dump

Well, at least I can say I don’t feel as “out of whack” as I did a week ago. Not that life hasn’t been eventful. Quite the opposite.

I think I’m finally seeing the other side of the spiritual shift I mentioned before. For those who didn’t read my post on being passed around by deities, I basically got handed off from Hecate to Hestia this week.

Don’t fret, it really is a positive thing, although I think I may have panicked for a second.

This new connection is turning out to be a good match. My life holds enough similarities to Hestia to give us things in common, but she also embodies some traits that I don’t possess, but wish I did.

I haven’t quite figured out what vibe our relationship is going to take on (if it’s going to be more friends, teacher/student, Deity/Follower or parent/child…although I doubt the last one and suspect a combination of the first two).

As with any new relationship, I’m taking it slow. I feel that I’ve learned about all I can about her via resources. The rest, I will have to learn directly from her.

There isn’t much out there, that I could find, about working with Hestia directly, so I’m pretty much flying blind at this point (please, if you have worked with Hestia and have any information/advice/pointers to offer, I’m all “ears”).

My other relationships seem to be mostly working themselves out now, too. My spiritual stability obviously has a direct effect on the relationships in my life. I’d come to assume as much but this last shift seemed to prove it.

As for right now, I feel like I’m just trying to catch my breath.


How I became a Witch

When I began writing this post, it was with the intention of linking it to the Which Witch Blog Hop, but I soon realized that I’d never really told the story of how I found my path here and this post didn’t really address the topic of the hop, so it became a prelude to my blog hop post…

My name is Crystal and I’m a Hestia-following Kitchen Witch.

For those who are unsure what that means, let me explain.

I was going through a hard time in my life. My marriage had turned into a nightmare and we were divorcing. My ex-husband and his family were taking my only child and to say I was suffering a crisis of faith was an understatement.

I’d always known I was different. I’d never felt comfortable in main-stream religion. I’d always felt that I didn’t belong. I had an almost unnatural relationship with animals and nature. I sometimes saw, and often heard, spirits. Strange things seemed to follow me everywhere I went and I was shunned by my peers and adults alike.

In spite of all of that, I’d always been intensely spiritual, constantly seeking a connection with the Divine. Unlike the others in my life, I felt that connection most strongly when I was outside, not in Church.

After my marriage fell apart, I had a chance meeting with an old friend from high school. Her and her then-husband spent a lot of time listening to my drunken rambles about loss of faith and martial nightmares.

Eventually, she handed me a book I’d never seen before. The book was Wicca: A Guide for the Solitary Practitioner by Scott Cunningham. I was 20.

I’d never heard of Wicca. I’d never heard of paganism. I’d grown up in the Bible Belt of the south and it was 1995 (for those doing the math, I’ll be 40 on my next birthday).

I read that book cover to cover, then read it again. I knew before I finished it the first time that it was like something inside me stood up and applauded. It made sense in a way nothing else ever had. It didn’t take me long to begin identifying myself as a Wiccan.

I performed a self-dedication ritual and committed myself to my path and to the God and Goddess. I also began searching for others like me.

I don’t know what life was like for other Pagans, in other places, in the 90’s, but in the South, it was practically unheard of. If there were Covens, I couldn’t find them.

I resolved that alone or not, this was my path and I intended to heed the call of my heart.

In the years that followed, I found others here and there. Other solitaires that thought they were the only ones, too. We celebrated Sabbats together and I began to teach our children the path. I suppose in some ways, we were like a Coven, but there was no real structure, rarely did we practice together, it was just companionship for the most part.

The Wheel has turned many times since then. I’ve read many books by many authors. I’ve found more Pagans since then, especially since the internet has exploded.

I read a book back in the late 90’s on Magickal housekeeping and it resonated with me. I’ve never been one for involved and detailed rituals except for special occasions and that book helped me understand that for some, complex rituals aren’t necessary.

For some, like me, Magick and ritual are performed in everyday life without a bunch of bells and whistles being necessary.

My home is my temple and my kitchen is the heart of my home. The Greek Goddess, Hestia, and her brother Zeus, rule both with an occasional appearance from the Fey.

Loki, who is my husband’s patron God and a host of dragons, who are my husband’s totem spirits round out the mix.

I find that for me, elaborate rituals are unnecessary. I live Magick in everything I do from making dinner to sweeping the floor.

When I do find a need for a little something extra, I turn to my very simplistic use of candles, oils, herbs, incense and the moon. That’s pretty much it.

So, now you know how I became a Kitchen Witch and what it is I do in my practice.

Next week, I will be posting my response for the Which Witch Blog Hop which will give my answer to what makes a Witch, a Witch.