Sunday, June 28, 2015

Achilles' Heel

An Achilles heel is a deadly weakness in spite of overall strength, which can actually or potentially lead to downfall. While the mythological origin refers to a physical vulnerability, idiomatic references to other attributes or qualities that can lead to downfall are common. - Wikipedia
"The Achilles’ heel Taurus North Node people need to be aware of is seeking self-worth through others (“I can only feel okay about myself through the validation of others”), which can lead them into the trap of an unending search for a soul mate (“If I have this one special person’s energy, I’ll feel complete”). In truth, Taurus North Node people can only achieve a sense of completeness within themselves—it will never come as the by-product of a relationship, even with a soul mate. No matter how much support and validation they get from others, they always think they need more. In fact, for them, others’ validation is a false barometer of whether they are on the right track. Living according to standards they know are right for them, regardless of what others think, will help them develop a sense of self-worth..." - Jan Spiller

One of my first jobs was working a neighborhood drug store. I stocked shelves, and worked the cash register. My old friend Cynthia got me the job. We met in First Grade, grew up a valley apart, and had some very fun times together. What seems like a lifetime ago, comes clearly back to me at times. Times like today, when my Achilles' tendon swells and pains me. I remember standing at a shelf conscious of the ache in my left heel. I can feel it now. I was sixteen.

I've got a tube of Arnicare, arnica cream, that I've been using on the painful tendon. It's a new remedy for me;that along with an ankle brace helps me stand and move around with less difficulty.

The other thing that is inseparable from the physicality of pain is the emotional element of pain. For good or ill, the two are something that I attend to. I know that the issue of the Achilles' heel is freshly bubbling up in me. An old and recurring vulnerability is making its presence felt. "No matter how much support and validation they get from others, they always think they need more." That's the old and recurring pain. the ancient wound.

Being able to stand on my own two feet is the issue, even now, at 67. Earlier today we were at the Farmers' Market talking with a friend. We were talking about her husband's health. I've never met her husband but know he has had major surgery. The conversation we were having had to do with how the surgeons/doctors' aim is to address bolstering his immune system (which she said is very strong) to battle the condition. "It's his DNA," our friend said.

I said I understood completely. That's the thing. I could really relate to what that meant. "He's not taking anything. He's strong, and was up and talking after a four hour operation." There's no cure for what her husband is dealing with. Without sounding simplistic, that is true about life. There's no cure to keep any of us from dying.

Blogging is part of my remedy for attending to my North Node in Taurus, my Achilles' heel of dependence through validation from others. It's a tough ache, and a long-lasting one. I'm in the middle of resetting boundaries and muddling through the process. Messy. It is a one-day-at-a-time journey. 12-Step Work is a lifetime practice. I forget that, and then I remember again. Without blogs, I would be muddling alone, and that is a dark and lonely journey. The voices in my head are loud and judgmental. Putting some of those thoughts onto a blog? Well ... it's an alternative to self-flagellation, and may be a way to strength those genes in my DNA, and tweak my immune system.

Do you recognize your 'fatal flaw' or Achilles' heel? How do you attend to it?

Saturday, June 27, 2015

Fold and fill

Something opens our wings,
Something makes boredom and hurt disappear.
Someone fills the cup in front of us:
We taste only sacredness.

The tiny cup sat on the breakfast table. The woman named for a bird read the note written in small elegant script. She recognized the penmanship, grateful for the present. The sorrow eased, a little. Her visits to the special places the Forest Magician had taken her? They remained, the Magic still stepped from the greens.

"Fold in and drink. The cup? It's been filled for you." It was the Frog Queen. Lokea smiled as tears dropped from her ... into the waiting nectar of place.

For now this medicine is served. (click on the link to read the start of the medicine story)

Wednesday, June 24, 2015

Teaching an old dog: B flat on the ukulele

2:41 into this YouTube tutorial, "... Angle that neck, a hard 45 (degrees). Whose the ukulele police to tell you otherwise, right?!"
"Do you play ukulele a lot?" my friend asked me this past Solstice Sunday.
"No...not as much as I'd like to." It was true, distracted or resistant to playing the mahogany beauty she has been safely resting. But, tucked into her case for months. Now that she and I have resumed our love affair, and more reasons for playing chalangalang keep presenting themselves, I challenged myself to play the dreaded B flat chord.

The B flat chord is difficult, for many. It's difficult for me even though my son tried to show me an adapted version that works for him. This morning I found the tutorial above. I'm watching it, and practicing his approach. I especially like the commentary about the 'ukulele police' (too many of them stifled my early attempts). The joyful sounds of ukulele and voice are moving me like fresh water streaming into an ocean of (ancient) salt water. Unzipping the black case, stepping up again, I play and sing for the love of it, and send music across the ocean to an old friend.

Alice Moon, our old friend was Taurus(not Aries, as I was mistaken) She moved energy! I remember sitting in her Waianuenue Street office one day as voices rose next door. She rented space to singer and harpist, and teacher Oona McOuat, and this was a day for voice lessons. Sharing space and talent was something Alice thrived on. She was a Hilo-girl, and sank her roots deeply into this community from her Keaukaha family home and moved energy with the force of the Ram(perhaps she had Aries somewhere in her star chart). We got word of the cancer that would take Alice from Hilo. Our niece Rosie emailed us to tell us.

"She's not too good talking," Rosie wrote, "but here's her address if you'd like to send her a letter."

"I'll write it, and get it in the mail today," I replied. I did write, and mail it.

My chalangalang style with the ukulele has been one where I play without the high chord sound of the B flat. F, C, C7 ... three string chords easily accompany my lower range of voice, at this age. I give it all I've got and that has been enough to just keep playing.
This morning as I sat on the futon singing for Alice, I wanted a little change, a bit more lift, a higher note: the B flat!

Listening and watching the ukulele player in the YouTube I felt a kinship to this man whose obviously run the rapids on more than one occasion. He encouraged me -- fueled me with courage -- to play the ukulele by showing me how to adjust the angle of the neck, the position of the palm, and the knuckles. I heard some tips I'd never known were applicable. From a man who has flexibility issues I could hear the advice. "I'm not an ukulele teacher,..The instrument ought to become one with the body," he says.

This really got me good, "become one with the body." As I played ukulele having fun with friends this weekend the ukulele slipped into my lap from time to time. I had to use my legs to push it into place to keep the strum going. My whole body was playing music!

Old anchors, safety pins tried-and-true are being pulled up as they lele and ho'oholo (fly off, and run) the narrow trails of life's continuation. The precession. Connecting with loved ones through music is giving me comfort. The old dog who believed she no-can, is giving it one more chance to do it a different way.

You know what I mean?

Tuesday morning Rosie emailed, " I don't know if you mailed the letter, but I want to tell you Alice passed Monday." 

I emailed back, "I did mail the letter, and it should arrive Tuesday." I attached a broken heart to the reply, sorry to be late.

Early this morning I got a fresh email from Rosie, "The letter arrived on Monday. Her sister Sarah read it to Alice before she passed. Miracle mail."

Alice, this practice with the B flat? It's for you dear friend, you always found another way! 'E lele 'oe.
Our fondest and deep aloha to the Moon Women in Keaukaha ... Jan, Sarah, Ruth,
Mokihana and Pete 

Oona McOuat has written a lovely tribute to Alice Moon on her blog here. Once again, Alice, you have moved energy from where you are!

Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Frog dreams

Picking up where we left off ... 

The long and consistent legacy of Frog as go-between for the species ... being able and adept with water and land worlds, fueled Bernadette with agility. Her dream was seasoned with a question that had her tongue dangle from her large, wide mouth. "Hungry with meaning, and morsels to retrace myself," again she was speaking loudly making her voice, her song available to any helpful spirits.

T.F. was along for her ride tonight. It was a place of respect that put him at his Queen's side. Bernadette had lived other lives when being queenly had meant she supported a regent with all her powers: she gave all her energy up and in the process had nothing left for herself. It had been a long, long time ago. A 'Once upon a time' time. Recalling her legacy, Bernadette swatted at the flies that buzzed around her in the dreamtime; most of them were fat and tender, tasty bites.

As she swallowed the essence of each of those flies had separate effects. She found it necessary to rest as she digested. "This little fly was tasty at first, but the after-affect? Sticky in my gullet. That little fly, was hardly worth the effort." The Frog King marveled at the finely-tuned discernment and wondered, to himself, how she did it. Still quiet in his observation he also wondered: "What does it matter?"

While Bernadette rested in her dream, she slid into the side-ways slope of dreaming while one dreamed. A very chalky reality it allowed a frog to see from multi-faceted eyes. Her purpose for dreaming was to answer the question of whether she (the Queen of Frogs) had taken her guardianship of the human, named for a bird, as if to keep a pet. In the wall of mirrors Bernadette could see the answer. Tamed, pampered, fed and kept a pet is dependent, and at worst, powerless.

Lokea was an aging human woman with a destiny to be reassembled and made to remember she was not powerless ... unless of course, she believed she must be pampered, fed and dependent upon someone more sovereign.

At this point, the Queen woke. Her large frog eyes focused. T.F. had his long arms stretched out in front of her. "What are you doing?" she was truly perplexed.

"I'm trying to prevent you."
"Prevent me? Prevent me from what?"
"I'm trying to prevent you from seeing what you see."
"THAT is preposterous," Bernadette swatted skillfully with her tongue, using it as a whip. T.F. withdrew, feigning pain.
"The exercise was worth the tongue-lashing." The Frog laughed. "I couldn't help the pun. But, truly my Queen, you are not without your inner wisdom, your common sense. You did not let my pitiful attempt to obstruct you have any effect."

Bernadette understood. The message was better than all the flies put together. To be a pet, one might make a conscious choice to be one. That would end with a consequence to live with. The Bird, Lokea, was grieving the loss of a wild animal who had given herself to be a Familiar ... NOT a pet. The decision to turn a Familiar into a Pet was a human's uninformed or 'entitled' action. Sorting through the karma and the destiny of Queen Frog and Woman named bird, it was the screech of the owl that made the difference.

********************** Two times were meeting on the border of reality. The Boundary was important to both Frog and Woman. Bernadette was in the past, looking and preparing to deal with time when the Panther, Lokea's Familiar, was taken as a wild one is hunted. *******************
In the dreamtime, The two frogs would return to spill their findings into a cup filled with Nectar of Place. Both here, and there, the grounded Earth time and the spirit time of frog dreams were what Bernadette fished for.

Lokea Bird would need the freshly-filled Nectar of Place to grow herself into herself, the next necessary step in satisfying her soul's deepest desire.

"Ah," said T.F. to himself. He saw what his Queen dreamed and nodded in appreciation. 

Monday, June 22, 2015

Ukulele and Aloha Weekend

The Jupiter-Moon-Venus conjunction this weekend was perfect for conviviality, socializing, and enjoyment. Taking a sip of the antidote for sorrow, we joined friends for a chalangalang old-style, old school ukulele music time and welcomed the Start of Summertime. Take a look at what can happen as we ride the emotional waves of being human in a spirit-rich life. 

Sunday, June 21, 2015

Moving, by degrees ... North Node Path

The medicine of story continues, weaving meanings from many places.  (It began, again, here.)
"In this incarnation they are learning to build rather than destroy, and successful building takes more time than the intensity to which they are accustomed...When they are coming from fear, they destroy; when they are coming from love, they build." -North Node in Taurus
The Bird -- Lokea Bird, was a small woman, compact with bones worn from predisposition and the decades of struggle. Bernadette's affinity to the human was unusual. The Fairy Queen had made a pact with the Rest, and spoke often to herself when she said, "Never again. Accepting the responsibility of guardian to humans is too much work." There is you see a very different set of definitions for things among the Fairy or Faery; and work  was an activity that ran the edges of fitness for their kind. Her mate, T.F. had approached her with a question one evening as they were nestled into their tiny home, "Do you suppose, my dear, it may be you have taken on your affinity as though the Bird, the woman named for bird, is your pet?

The question rumbled deep in her belly. T.F. recognized it as deep digestive consideration. When snores were his answer, the regent of all frogs, smiled in appreciation for the differences between them. Bernadette had a bit of information that required collective summoning: she needed help with the issue. While she snored, the doors to dreams opened inward and the frog stepped through. To herself she spoke loudly, "I remember something, some very relevant something about having had to live something before you could possibly write it. Or was it something like if you write something before you live it, your readers will know?" Summoning help always came if Bernadette considered her questions aloud. This night was not unlike all the others.

Through the narrow threshold a very big light pulsed, drawing the Queen into its space. A scoop of milk-ish yellow lit the dream space. "Ah, it is you, Island's Companion. It is you the Moon and surely you could best give me answers to this query. Have I assumed the woman to be my pet? Dreams are very important. By them one is guided to good fortune and warned of misfortune. Like a pet bird, human is take care of. "He manu hanai ke kanaka na ka moe," Moon spoke in Lokea's native words, smacking her jaws and whipping the air between them the Frog Queen collected the words. She gathered meaning and ate it down.

The Nodes, the heavenly pathways that create the elliptic skyway for the Moon's orbit around the Island, Earth, marks south and north. When a human, is born, those who keep track of such things note where the elliptic is at south. They call it the South Node where Earth's path and Moon's path crosses on the Moon's way south. When the Moon travels North and crosses Earth's path that is the Moon's North Node. Again, all in relation to the births of beings.

When a frog dreams, and enters the sky for answers the whole bowl of cherries, the mash of all froggy good ponds lays itself for the seeker. Bernadette was facile with dream crossings and was here for the good of another. That made a difference. She was incarnate for just that purpose. As a human, her soul was destined to work to survive. She learned how. She had the blistered tongue to show for all her efforts.

Now, the Queen had to sort her destiny from that of the human with a North Node in the sign of Taurus the Bull. This was complicated. "But you're fit for the challenge this time, my Queen," it was T.F. He had followed her into her dream, a thing they often did to or for one another. Tonight, Bernadette was glad for the company and made room for her frog man in the moon's bright light.

Friday, June 19, 2015

Nectar of place ... drinking from the water of myth

Sometimes the real is more than a body can, or wants, to experience alone. No, it is not from weakness we reach for the space between the borders. Yes, it is the nectar of place and timelessness that soothes and sends what cannot be found without myth. Sip and be with those who crisscross place and time with facility and respect un-endingly.

I dip into that cup of nectar of the place again, invoking the spirit and the practices of medicine stories. From the old, a newness builds slowly ...healing.
The Ledge 
"Gypsy Fairydom persists throughout the Cosmos, throughout time, throughout Ever. Unattached to the trappings of broad collections of wealth, the Gypsy Fairies travel light and depend upon the trails of stardust as markers and makers of destiny. Far from invisible the Gypsy Fairy is present in the life of those mortals who appear to have dreams falling down around them. To the Gypsy Fairy, collapsing dreams are simply the signs of Reassembling and an invitation to join in. The braid of mortal life on the Great Planet as this story begins is so far from the wee folk’s value of a destiny fully lived, the strands so tightly woven even the tiniest of fairies can find no foothold.Sprinkled like salt from the Creators salt shaker, the agent of change had begun its work on the lives of humans." -Wood Crafting ... the Tale

The Huntress was gone, no longer burdened with a physical body, the magic of Reassembling fell from her tiny yet powerful shoulders. The cradling was over, soon the two old Beings were going to meet head on. With no Forest Magician to lead the way on the narrow trails or mediate the tug of their opposing Moon Nodes, the man and woman had a few years to make a life different than the one before.

The Frog and his Queen greeted the Panther when she crossed from the skin she had worn. Bernadette wept as she saw the Quiet One steal the small and deadly huntress, "She was outside the Borders, unrecognized and without the benefit of proximity." Tears from her royal ducts flowed. Florescent and as pungent as an aged nectar of place. Those were the waters of grief. She cried for her Human, the old woman called Bird.

"Her's has not been a gentle journey. Has it?" It was T.F. who saw his Queen's tears glow like snakes down her pointed mouth, open as if to gasp more breath; a frog's grieving does take a lot of oxygen.

"She was marked for a heavy burden, and yes, there is more to come." Bernadette listened as the pines became agitated. "More to come," they said in the old language of the Bird's Ancients. "Aia no i ʻo" wahi o ka paina. 

It would take a few moments for the transition to set, from the body of one into that of another. The Frog and his Queen attended this one with particular kindness, though it was never an act they performed with anything but.

Aia no i 'o ... more to come. HERE IT IS (the next)

Thursday, June 18, 2015

Water spirit clouds ... 'ike papalua

"When I was a little girl my Aunty Lily showed me how to notice clouds. I have never stopped noticing. The sky and the clouds changed in a matter of minutes yesterday before sunset. Hoaka Moon.
Mo'o. lizard, reptile of any kind, dragon, serpent; water spirit
Mo'o hihia. series of difficulties, troubles
Hawaiian Dictionary, Pukui & Elbert

I noticed the lizard skin, mottled or perhaps breaking apart like the shedding of skin too small to contain the mo'o growing. As I watched I searched for the 'ike papalua the insight. The loss and grief, the difficulties and challenges. E ho mai i ka 'ike papalua. On the shoulders and backbone of my ancestors, and the gift given me as a little girl in Kuli'ou'ou Valley. The ao mo'o ... the clouds of the water spirit remind me to notice and listen with my whole body."

 To see more of the unfurling 'ike papalua (more cloud messages) click here.

Monday, June 15, 2015

Mele Popoki: He Inoa Na Jots

E ‘elekule
nou e koʻu hoaloha
o ka pueo kani mai ana
Ina e ke iwikuamoʻo
Hiki lele na lāʻau paina e.....
Eia nā Hua liʻiliʻi
nā Hua liʻiliʻi hiwa no ka Lopine-hoʻopai.  
A lele ʻoe

A lele 'oe i ke Kula mauʻu.  A lele 'oe i ke hale moa
A lele 'oe i ke paina e.  
A  lele 'oe

Eia nā Mauʻu hone
Nā Mauʻu hone no ka Lāpaki-hoʻopai.  
A holo 'oe

A holo 'oe ma ke hiʻuiʻa. A hoʻoholo 'oe ma ke la iki.
A holo 'oe ma ke paina e.   
A hoʻoholo 'oe
Ua uhi Kapa moe mahana,
Hoomahanahana ola honua.
E noa! E noa! Amama wale!
"Aia no i ʻo" wahi o ka paina.

Hey old friend...
For you my friend
Nearby the owl is crying
The family is stricken
Suddenly agitated are the pines

Here are the berries
The dark purple berries to attract the robins
Fly to the meadow
Fly to the chicken coop
Fly to the pines

Here is the sweet grass
the sweet grass  to attract the rabbits
Run through the sword ferns
Run through the narrow trails
Run through the pines

We are wrapped in warm blankets
Warmth that relaxes the rigors of earthly life
Freedom! Freedom! The load is lifted!
“Yet to come” say the pines.

-Ma Christopher Kawika Brown ... Mahalo nui loa a pau hiapo i k'ou pu'uwai

E ‘elekule nou e koʻu hoaloha
Jots Lele Kane Po, June 13, 2015

Ina e ke iwikuamoʻo

"Aia no i ʻo" wahi o ka paina.

Tuesday, June 9, 2015


(Hover over the picture to read the definition of hupua, the word that finger points to  
from the Hawaiian Dictionary, Pukui & Elbert)

"[...]It occurs to me that sometimes it’s best if you give a person space (and time) to work out the kinks in their live. They can be trying really hard to do exactly this. To carve out a niche for themselves…119
But generally speaking, people don’t like this. They want to hold people close. They don’t want to deal with a gaping hole in their life…so they hold on or try to maneuver a person.  It’s human nature.[...] - Elsa P.
Yesterday I was out and about; freed up from the isolation of nearly three months because of Scotch Broom pollens! Unless you're one of us who deals with the reality of pollens' dramatic ill-effects it's hard to fathom.

Over a life-time I have found many (unconventional to many) ways to manage, navigate the course of my life with Earth's environment. Only later in life did I put two-and-two together and used my love of words and stories to make my own homeopathic remedy: medicine stories.

When I was younger, the stories didn't even make sense to me, so I kept them under lock and key until they simply would not wait and oozed out or acted out. My astrologer, Elsa Panizzon, has written a post about giving (or denying) someone you love, or some one you care about but not recognize it as love, the space and time to work out the kinks in their environment (their life). I think, if you live long enough, LIFE will give you many opportunities to be on both sides of the kinks.

Going back and forth as I have across the Pacific Ocean, trying at first, to out-run the environment (people, their actions, plants, their actions ...) many people have tried to give me their solutions, question my odd struggle with myself and their actions. Back and forth, I would attempt to fold in some of what they offered.

But in the longer run, I have discovered it is space and time that would be my best media and remedy. The short and simple, quick and easy for someone like me? Not a comfort, nor a medicine. Waiting pollens out is not easy. I turn wild and gumpy, and lash out. Ugly. But, I try to contain the damage, and keep to myself, mostly.

While I am hole up, there has been much good work to do. My school, my gathering place, needs plenty of tending and much of it has to be done 'in the cave' learning what is needed, following the protocol of the elders who watch with space and time between us. I muddle through. I write about it. They laugh. They watch to see how much water leaks from my basket. They love me and give me time to love myself, eventually.

I hope to give those I love the message: I love you as you learn to weave water-tight baskets.

And how do your baskets carry the water?

Friday, June 5, 2015

Muddling through and reaching for the magic

It has been a rough several weeks. Collective depression, call it what you want to. Many people, including me, have been struggling with life as we find it. I've been scarce with posts here, containing my energy as I deal with difficulty breathing because of pollens and then an unexpected wrist sprain.

The long season of blooming Scotch Broom is drawing closer to an end. Thank the gods and goddesses. Homepathic remedies have aided the process, and Pete has weathered yet another bout of doubt and muddle-me befuddlement from this old woman with digging sticks. Gratefully, the precession moves in spite of my befuddlement, and the magic of gifts and story help navigate the slow but regular change that does happen -- eventually.

I planted beans on the Mahealani Full Moon. 

Harvested laukahi (plantain) from our orchard floor to make poultices for my sprained wrist.

Pete and I traveled by water on a ferry and journeyed to Tulalip to deliver gifts of thanks to people who have shared her language, and her culture with me. 

With the gift giving done, and a circle of reconnection made, I remembered that I was once the young mother above. The gift was my son. That gift keeps on giving. Lucky me.

Muddling and befuddlement is not the most sought after experiences; we, the kakou thing (us inclusively) all go through it. Reaching for the medicine in stories that fold and weave this bit with that, I re-opened a story thought complete until the muddle showed up. Here's where I went with the medicine of story to help a Border Witch re-discover her groove, and the precession.

Try this if you can relate to ever being befuddled.

Tuesday, June 2, 2015

It's a Strawberry (Saturn) Full Moon in Sagittarius

Elsa P wrote this last July (2014) when Saturn was in Scorpio, before he headed into Sagittarius. The planet of long-suffering lessons, or as I see him, the planet who can and will bring a body to her knees, leaving strawberries where needed, led to my favorite astrologer's advice:
"If you’ve not seen any magic lately or if you’ve forgotten how to cultivate it in your life, here are some ideas…
You’ve got  to work things out with people, rather then failing to work them out. And for Godsakes, no excuses. Blame yourself.
Are you alone, because you pushed everyone away?
Are you depressed because you’re holding on to a corpse? Are you clinging to something dead, be it an idea, an addiction, an ex, or an ideology?
Do you absolutely refuse to do anything new, think anything new, open you mind?
When was the last time you sacrificed, purely to serve another person’s need?
I do see people coming together at this time. They have certain things in common. First and foremost, they’re humble..."

In a few days, transiting Saturn will return to Scorpio for the summer. The issues and questions Elsa posed last summer are in the foreground again. I'm paying close attention with the Full Moon in Sagittarius opposing the Sun in Gemini: the big picture (Sag) is lit thanks to the details of the Gemini Sun's position. I'm muddling through another period of suffering, and all those questions above make for solutions other than more of the same.

Though the moon is low in the sky position and hidden from us, with the cloudy skies in the west, I access the look of celestial things and use the Internet to clear things for me. I'm focused on 'cultivating magic'. My body's worn down from the pollens, but, there's nothing I can do about eradicating the Scotch Broom. A test drive out and into town in the June sprinkle of rain humbles me. I am still harshly affected. I munch some lunch, and write. More patience! Soon, but not now, there will be time to connect with friends, and community. Missing others I get the message that my isolationist genes truly do need, and want, the company of others. (Antares, the fixed star in the image above is both in the sky at dusk, and, is the celestial set-point for 'what grounds a person to the things of this Earth.' Antares is in Sagitarrius now, and it in my 11th House at birth. That's the house of friendships, hopes, and dreams.)

As I muddle through this period remembering what it takes to cultivate magic fits my needs now. I have a great cheat sheet of questions to prepare myself (soften the ground of my being) for beds of magic. To help with the cultivating I asked an old and trusted friend, "More medicine stories?" She said, "Yes to the stories." So that's what I'm doing. I've opened up more space for this batch of muddling. Curious and wandering old women? Crones, witches, or sympathetic warlocks? Read the newest sign making and cultivations. Mend, meddle, MUDdle, magic.