Category Archives: Personal Stories

Featherstone, Gathering, History, Personal Stories, Recollections

A Samhain Tale from the Faerie Castle

scribed after the Samhain 2023 gathering by NoName:

In Featherstone Castle, when winter’s near,

Samhain celebration, faeries gather here.

Mermaid drums, ancestors appear,

Dancing ’round the fire, their presence so dear.

NoName too, with his drumming might,

In the gunroom naked, save a coat of white.

His rhythms echo through the starry night,

A peculiar sprite, oh, what a sight!

Greenheart, the wizard, dances with grace,

Ancient tattoos adorn their face.

Like flames in the wind or sun’s embrace,

Their every move, a spell in place.

Zebedee by the fire, so stoic and tall,

If he leaves the hearth, the castle may fall.

His duty heavy, yet he answers the call,

Guarding the flame, warming us all.

Soul sings, her voice like a dove,

Healing the mind, body, with love.

Her songs, a soothing balm from above,

Restoring harmony, fitting like a glove.

Eden’s aura fills the room,

Under their influence, love does bloom.

Naked bodies in embrace, dispelling gloom,

In front of the fire, passion does consume.

Acorn leaps with youthful zest,

The strength of a thousand faeries in his chest.

From castle’s top to its humble nest,

His art is known as the very best.

Mackerel Sky, keeper of plant lore,

Their wisdom, all faeries adore.

From castle gardens to forest floor,

Their green thumb touch is hard to ignore.

Then there’s Magpie, flying high,

A jewel collector in the sky.

Her graceful flight, a lullaby,

Reminding us of beauty nearby.

In Chachi‘s pot, a magic brew,

Sacramental drops, a hallucinogenic stew.

Faeries sip, their minds anew,

Experiencing realms they never knew.

Astro arrives, sequins in hand,

Adorning each faerie, oh so grand!

Under the moonlight, they make their stand,

A dazzling sight, just as planned.

In Featherstone Castle, under the moon’s beam,

Faeries celebrate, as if in a dream.

Their tale of Samhain, a recurring theme,

A night of magic, to the extreme.

A moment in the gunroom:

Once upon a frosty winter’s eve, in the realm of the radical faeries, a grand castle stood resolute amidst the mountains and rolling hills. Featherstone Castle was no ordinary fortress but a gathering place for faeries far and wide, who came together to celebrate the mystical Samhain festival.

Nestled amid ancient trees and an icy river, Featherstone Castle braced itself for the annual Samhain celebration. A gathering of faeries from far and wide, it was a time of revelry, of music and dance, of love and healing.

Mermaid, known far and wide as the greatest drummer of all lands, possessed a magical talent. When they played, the ancestors were summoned, their spectral forms swaying before the fire, entranced by the enchanting melody, of unparalleled musical prowess. When Mermaid played the drums, it was as though the heavens themselves had ordained the melody. Each beat seemed to summon the ancestors, their spectral forms pirouetting in a mesmerising dance before the blazing hearth. Mermaid’s drumming was a sacred rite, a symphony that connected the worlds of the living and the departed.

Among the many faeries, there lived a peculiar sprite named NoName. An oddball, he was renowned for his love of drumming in time and out and his penchant for baring his skin to the chill, save for a long, plush fur coat that swathed him from neck to ankle. The gun room was his chosen haunt, where he’d pound on his drums until the wee hours of the dawn, the rhythmic beats reverberating throughout the castle’s stone corridors and into the starlit night.

Greenheart was a wizard of dance, their movements as mesmerising as flames dancing in the wind, as serene as sunlight reflecting off a quiet river. Each twirl, each leap was a spell cast, entrancing all who watched. They held the beauty of ancient lines tattooed to their body and face art in its greatest manifestation, a vision to behold.

Zebedee, the stoic guardian of the fire, was ever present by the hearth. Legend whispered that if Zebedee were to abandon his post, Featherstone Castle would crumble. Such was the gravity of his duty, yet he carried it with unwavering resolve. In his hands, he held the flame that lit up the castle, its warm glow welcoming all who sought refuge within its walls.

As the night deepened and the revelry reached a peak, NoName joined Mermaid’s divine rhythms with their own unique beats. Greenheart danced to the music, casting spells that illuminated the naked bodies of faeries in an ethereal light. Zebedee watched over the fire, its crackling flames a comforting lullaby to those who had danced until their feet could carry them no longer.

Soul, the faerie healer, was blessed with a voice that could cure any ailment. Her songs were medicine, soothing the minds and bodies of her fellow faeries and restoring harmony within the castle walls.

Eden, the embodiment of love, filled the gun room with an aura of affection. Under Eden’s influence, faeries would find themselves in intimate embrace, their naked bodies radiating warmth and love. All were called to join the passion of the naked faerie in front of the fire with love for all.

Then there was Acorn, a young faerie bursting with energy. He had the strength of a thousand faeries and the agility of twenty goblins. With a single leap, he could clear the castle’s highest point, his youthful exuberance a source of joy to all. Their art was known in many lands as the greatest of all art.

The faeries of Featherstone Castle were a diverse and talented group, each bringing their own unique gifts to the community. Together, they created a harmonious atmosphere that was unlike any other place in the realm.

As the Samhain festival approached, preparations were made throughout the castle. The kitchens bustled with activity as cakes and pies were made for a feast of delights.

Mackerel Sky, the keeper of plant wisdom, held knowledge of all living things within this realm and beyond. Their understanding of nature was unparalleled, their wisdom sought by all faeries. From the gardens of Featherstone Castle to the far reaches of the enchanted forests, Mackerel Sky’s green thumb could be seen in every living thing.

Despite their differences and quirks, each faerie had a special place in Featherstone Castle. As they celebrated Samhain together, they were reminded of the importance of community and unity. Together, they created magic unlike that seen before.

And finally, there was Magpie, the only faerie granted the gift of flight. She was a collector of jewels, each piece a treasure fit for a king. Wise and mysterious, she moved silently, her flight as graceful as a dance in the moonlight. Her presence was a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there is still beauty and magic to be found.

As the Samhain celebration commenced, Featherstone Castle came alive with laughter and song, love and dance. Each faerie played their part, their unique talents contributing to the magic of the night. From NoName’s drumming to Mermaid’s ancestral call, from Greenheart’s enchanting dances to Zebedee’s eternal vigil, from Soul’s healing songs to Eden’s aura of love, from Acron’s leaps of joy to Mackerel Sky’s wisdom, and from Magpie’s dazzling flight, the castle was filled with wonder and joy. As the moon reached its pinnacle, Mermaid took over the drums. The tempo shifted, the beats becoming deeper, more resonant. The fire flickered, and the ancestors emerged, their ethereal forms waltzing before the glowing embers. The faeries watched, spellbound, their hearts swelling with reverence and love for the spectral dancers. Bridging the gap between the faeries and their ancestors.

In the kitchen, Chachi was mixing a pot of sacramental brew, carefully adding drops of magic to create the perfect hallucinogenic brew. The faeries eagerly awaited their turn to sip from the cauldron and experience a different kind of magic that would open their minds and souls to new realms of existence.

Astro from the river faeries, maker of songs and keeper of sequins, arrived with gifts of shimmering fabrics and sparkling jewels. They adorned each fairer in dazzling garments, transforming into ethereal beings that shone brightly under the moonlight.

As the night went on, the faeries danced and sang, their bodies moving in perfect harmony with the rhythms of nature. The castle was alive with magic as they celebrated the cycle of life and death.

As the night progressed, the faeries danced until their feet were sore and their heart’s content. They drank from the cauldron, indulging in Chachi’s concoction and exploring new levels of consciousness and being.

As the night wore on, the faeries danced wildly around the fire, lost in a trance induced by Chachi’s concoction of spells and sacrament.

Their story became a cherished folklore, a tale recounted at every Samhain gathering, a tribute to that magical night in the faerie castle, a testament to the magic of unity, love, and celebration in the faerie realm.

Blossom, the collector of coins and maker of music, buzzed around, keeping the spirits high with their lively tunes. And in the midst of it all, Zebedee stood, his eternal vigil never wavering, his flame ever burning, reminding the faeries that no matter how wild and joyous the celebration may be, there must always be someone to keep watch over the fire.

As the night drew to a close and the last notes of music faded away, the faeries gathered together in a circle. Holding hands, they thanked their ancestors for their eternal guidance and protection. As they looked up at the moon shining bright above them, they knew that no matter what challenges may come their way, they always had each other and the magic of Samhain to guide them through, year after year.

For in Featherstone Castle, the faeries had created a place where magic never died, and love and unity were always celebrated. And as they drifted off to sleep, with smiles on their faces and hearts full of joy, they looked forward to another year of enchantment and wonder in their beloved home. No matter how far apart they may journey throughout the realm, they will always return to Featherstone Castle, their true home and sanctuary. And as long as they had each other, they knew that the magic would never end. So, let us raise our glasses to the faeries of Featherstone Castle, for they are a reminder that no matter how small or different we may seem, there is always a place where we belong and are loved beyond measure.

Personal Stories, Workshops

My Name Is Joseph And I Am A Pagan Priest.

(Joe recently connected with the London Rad Faeries at a drum circle and offers us this introduction to his work…)

My name is Jospeh and I am a Pagan priest. I am also a Queer person.

What is a Pagan Priest you might ask? Well, in essence, it’s a choice to dedicate a life, at least in part, to be of service to my community by bringing an opportunity to connect with self, the natural world and the Divine to those who are so inclined. “Priest” is just another word. Many people who do what I do, do not choose that particular label. I did spend a couple of years training as a Priest within a Pagan community, but this is not the only route to this path. More about that later.

I started on my journey with spirituality at about 15, I am now 35. At the time, being a Baby-Witch gave me a sense of empowerment, purpose and strength. As a queer teen I had the usual experience of many queerlings, a sense of being different, having to find myself in a world that tells me to conform, navigating fear and bullying and also, the joy of discovery. Identifying as a Witch meant I had to come out of two closets, the queer closet and the broom closet. Truly, I believe that rather than complicate the matter of finding myself and expressing that to the world, the intersection of my queerness and my paganness supported and strengthened these two complementary parts of who I am. Queerness can correspond to encountering challenges, especially at a young age, but to believe I could overcome anything with just the right combination of crystals, herbs and words certainly gave me courage.

Fast forward twenty years and my Paganism now plays a different role in my life. It is now a tool for connection and healing. I would say I was called to take the leap from solitary Witch to ceremonial leader after encountering the dark night of the soul, otherwise known as a complete collapse in mental health. For a while, crippling anxiety and panic were everyday experiences. Obsessive existential fears controlled my life, and I was lost to depression. The only light at the end of the tunnel was my relationship with my spirituality. In a sense I had to die to be reborn. I had to face my darkest fears in order to overcome them. From that point on I was called to leap deeper into spirituality and discover what I could offer the world. So, this led me to train as a Priest as part of a community of Goddess worshippers in Glastonbury. This was not an easy ride and what began here was a discovery that diversity and inclusion were not a given in Pagan communities. One side of myself, my paganness was fulfilled, but the other, my queerness, was not. What I found was that some spiritual communities are plagued by the same fate that befall many organised religion. A hotbed of transphobia, queerphobia, a lack of basic understanding and essentially a community that could not meet the needs of LGBTQ Pagans, not to mention people of colour or my disabled kin.

I was then pulled towards a new path. A path where queer people were at its centre not the peripheral. Where the focus was on actively developing Pagan practice and ceremony that spoke to diverse people. The path of radical inclusion! We deserve to be able to look into the face of the Divine and see ourselves. To see God as a pregnant trans man. To see Goddess as a disabled woman of colour. To experience connection with a deity who was beyond the binary. And so, my journey has led me to where I am now. Working towards Pagan practice that is fully inclusive and to designing ceremony that celebrates the lives of queer people. And so Indigo Earth Ceremonies was born. I walk my own path, a path of my own creation. The path of Indigo Earth.

Joseph Atiase is Priest of Indigo Earth and can be found at www.indigoearthceremonies.com

He is offering a summer solstice ritual – details via link below:

Summer Solstice Ceremony by Indigo Earth Tickets, Sat 18 Jun 2022 at 18:00 | Eventbrite

Personal Stories

You can only be there to be transformed.

On leaving Brighton last June, I was full of bravado. Determined for a new chapter and challenge. Calling out to London and the next rung of academia, I was determined that this city in all its sprawl and corners; its chaos, capital and overwhelm, would teach me a lesson. Help me smash the plant pot that had become Brighton for the previous decade and revitalise me somehow – let me grow.

 

Probably naively – wide open and fatigued from the summer downloads of Folleterre and heartbreak of Berlin – I rocked up to meet her in my typical state of unpreparedness. All tentacles, no core. 

 

In retrospect, owing everything to the wild resilience of other residents, who gave me shade in all manner of ways and allowed me to probe and curl new roots around the curves and cracks of this relentless, steaming slab. 

 

I hit winter hard. Watched another illusion of encounter and connection whither. And set into a space nearly and then finally my own. Alone in the east, smoking and drinking too much and posturing in unhealthy ways around too much Netflix and procrastination, I burned out. Sank into chronic pain and scared myself of how unwell I can become. Popped up every now and again to talk to people about gut health – mesmerising them with northern articulation, anecdote and stand up. The download that leaves me depleted. Then went back to it. The lack of embodiment obvious;  ashamed to talk about healing in such a state of dis-ease. 

 

Up until early spring, I was up for calling it a day. I think the thought of anyone close to me having to navigate the chaos of my material legacy after the fact was the only pacifier. The sun was a rescue at first if only in animation. Found myself wondering cruising grounds too early until I met myself. And that’s kind of where London took me – really deep into the pain that I think Brighton bandaged. Scared me hard enough that I had to look again at my shit. To look again at why for so many years I kept cycling through peak experiences to crash upon my arse lost and alone. This time, she gave me a place where I would be alone and then let me really sink into it. 

 

After years of meeting my makers in folds of geometry; holding, receiving and pouring into heart circle, singing with frogs and puking into buckets; sweating in lodges, vibrating around fires and sucking cock in ritual – it was clear that yeah, I still had some work to do. 

 

Part of that began at Unston Grange at the beginning of spring. Where after a long and deliberate hiatus from the Albion circle, I tentatively reconnected with the community. Momentarily bringing a bit of that shadow into the light of a relatively new format for domestic community. Away from the corridors of the castle and some of the trickier relating I find there, and perhaps a bit of the unprocessed shame and history of Avalon – here, there was a rhythm of community that spoke of home again. In both the silence and the stars, I felt held. And I went back to my lair in London in a kind of renewal. 

 

In Spring I found myself co-facilitating a gathering in Portugal. Finally in that place of stone and lavender which had been such an online effort in shadow to help co-create. And I felt fully home again on-continent, in community and surprised myself at how boundless, connected, in love and strong I could feel. How accepted and accepting I could be. 

 

At this gathering I brought the shadow dance – product of years of fantasising about this form of ritual – and watched through my mask, in awe; charged and connected in a way I’ve only known with the plants – as the community, initially apprehensive, responded. Lurching and moaning in shapes around the fire in honour of one of our most taboo, tricksterish, yet essential teachers. And then walking back into sanctuary revealed somehow. Honest. Open. Seen. 

 

After having the opportunity to deepen my connection with a faerie at ADF, already known but not known, they said their goodbyes and gratitudes to me in the bathroom whilst I hid behind my toothbrush. But I heard what they said and it re-inspired me to the kind of heart I’m capable of. Later as I sat bare arsed on a chocolate and banana cake in no-talent, windmills gushing to my left on the hill – I felt the reminder of inner rest flow through me like I hadn’t in a long time. I’d come home. 

 

Beltane was the ignition for self-love, clarity, assessments and therapy. And for the first time in my process I got some answers around why my experience in the world had been pitched the way it had been for so long. I saw very clearly who I could be and wanted to be in the laboratory of community and the work I’d need to do to brave that heart in the rest of the world. 

 

Probing and manifesting those depths is never seamless though – and on leading upto some of the biggest medicine of the year, Pan Gathering – I wobbled. Felt the pressures of navigating the system in the city materially and reluctant to shift my focus to where it counts. But I went and arrived in the heart of a process where wild, free and naked in the woods I fully embodied the truth of my names in a circle of Pan revellers both old and new. Let my heart fully connect and worship another unconditionally. Fully knew my Libra in Venus. Re-calibrated on what I need in terms of romance and feeling in the collective. Renegotiated my polyamory – maybe even abandoned an aspect of my polyamory. Got a taste of where to go when I am cut adrift. Held space graciously despite my ram. Felt my power. Reconnected wholly with my spirituality through drum and rattle. Believed again. Heard the horse on the hill whinny at my private ritual at the ancestors tree – just like the first time, years ago. Felt totally the wisdom of my sisters and what they mean to me when I reach out and allow. 

 

In that gathering I heard such profound poetry and meaning and fully understood the experiential nature of our culture – our profoundly oral tradition. Breathing in medicine for the heart in whispers and eyes, like silk parcels through the letterbox of my soul. You can’t write these exchanges to their full potency. You can only be there to be transformed. 

 

Despite a few closing thanks – this is where my piece initially ended. I hesitated at posting at first because of the more raw truth in the struggle. But also, a technical issue with the website came up and I couldn’t get in to post. So I kind of sat on it. Almost forgot. And then Queer Spirit Festival happened and in retrospect, I couldn’t have really said what I wanted to say without it. 

 

Any of the community close to me know that I’ve had some political misgivings about the impact of the festival on faerie culture. The groundswell of new energy and the challenge it brings for the sensitive transmission of our cultures and ways – and for those negotiating and finding their space in our folds with their own histories, experiences and boundaries. The energy it takes to grow, rather than tend. But more personally, community is a delicate web for me where I feel trust through being properly seen and understood. And despite the excesses of Fish Wife, Octopus is a creature of solitude or at least, of a tight nest. 

 

But in the spirit of the medicine this year, I showed up. And I was moved. 

 

The faerie encampment was such a profound healing experience of a circle within a circle – from where I could stretch out, dance, laugh, feel, touch, taste, fondle and fuck with this enormous and beautiful sodden love nest of queer hearted beings. I was honoured to serve the high priestess GayLove in assisting in the sacred sexuality temple; where I saw the most radical visions of queer utopia in action. The full spectrum of gender embodied in the play-fighting, foreskin stretching, cunt sharing, pain meditating, queer orgying ecstacy; which spoke to me of a true and honest scope of our boundaries and readiness for evolution in the co-creation of fundamentally queer places of spirit, play and worship. Both sober and messy, I found and felt profound love in that place. It dawned on me after all of these years in community, what I don’t see or hide from. That we are fucking family. And it was deep – no prose needed. But also, that exponential broadening, deepening, spreading and sharing of our spaces is the work. And that I am part of it. Gratitude and graces, Octopus may have been a bit late to the party. 

 

I am now in Berlin. Still riding the waves of QS and entering Virgo season feeling a bit like I’m being blown apart and filed into a different path. It’s bringing more truth, more clarity and a search for the future of me; of the love and the spaces I want to be part of and to create. It’s not that this isn’t without its bumps, retraction, re-entrenchment, old-patterning and a bit of mania-dusting – but it is what it is and overall, it’s promising. 

 

And in that sense, dear faeries – this is a thankyou. Thankyou for saving my life time and time again. Thankyou for loving me. Thankyou for showing me a life that I am so blessed to live with you. Every year I am changed through you. 

 

And while yes, I can curl up all tendril in my time away – not sure where my point of reconnection is, whether I can relate, or how to start over – I know that you’re waiting for me to begin the walk again. And that each time of holding your hands up and through it, I come back to myself more whole. More potent. More wise. That this dance never ends and that I still feel you in my hair, when I walk the other paths alone. 

 

Changes are afoot. 

 

Octopus & Fish Wife X 

 

Special thanks to True Paradox, Ofra, Eyal, Ananda, GayLove, Sprouty Merlot, Blue Star, My Little Pony, Bliss, Shokti Lovestar, Faunalicious, Foxie Plethora Deux Mille, Hazel, Printemps, Wood Pigeon, Andy B, Mushroom, Kingfisher, Thunder, Princess, Iris, Bholenath, Nigel and Ed.

Other stuff by Octopus:

Breakups | A Call to Sisterhood. 

Our Glorious Bodies. 

Personal Stories

A Faerie rises from the ashes of shame

Eleven years ago

I thought I was a disgusting filthy ho

I’d met much older man named Gunny, one cum in my mouth and the other gave me money.

It was meant to be for petrol, I bought cigarettes and set in motion events i will never forget.

I went home to self created sanctuary or prison, the one place in my life I felt I had known to be myself, years before, a mess now like my head

I returned home, woken up two hours later to find, the sanctuary was gone, burned down to the ground. My home was gone, although I still had somewhere to slept

I thought it was because I had mixed money and sex. I thought it was some sort of cruel punishment or hex

Had I used it for what I said, then my sanctuary and my cat wouldn’t be dead. Some small comfort when she raised her head some hours later…

I dared not tell a soul the truth of what I believed had happened… although I did in my secret double life of meeting men in the night…

Did he keep it to himself? Fuck no

“It’s weird that this man knows your sanctuary is dead” said this person masquerading as my friend, I just ignored them as fear and shame consumed my head

“This man says you sucked his cock”

I was powerless when they said “I have something to ask you”

summoned to confess all my sins, but, I lied as best as I could, whilst trying not to tremble with shock or die on the spot, I felt I had no choice but to deny it, but I couldn’t really hide it

I wanted to take my own life that night more than I ever have, but my dad tried it once and this was on the eve of my mothers birthday, I couldn’t do that to her ten years later…

I was so overwhelmed with shame.. wretched and wrong

Couldn’t admit to it

Having sex with a man

A man older than my own father

I hated myself

Hated my body

Hated what being overweight had done to it

This old man wanted me

He was local

I felt this powerful, consuming urge to go to him

I thought I was disgusting, in some way I thought he was disgusting too and was getting off on it

I also thought he wouldn’t mind a bit of loose skin

I thought I could trust him for some reason, maybe I was just desperate to tell someone how I felt. by the change of season I wanted to hang him for treason

Another reason I wanted to die

Was because I thought I automatically got hiv, from any unprotected anal sex, and the condom broke, and there was blood on me

Later that year

I met another queer, at work

Although I didn’t use that word then it just rhymes now… the only other queer in my real day time work life not my seedy secret night-time shameful lost everything but can’t stop doing it sex life…

He was “out and proud” told his coming out story, things about being gay, struggles in his life, unknowingly shared things that helped… just being himself inspired me, I only just finally told him

I left that job after only a month. Cold dark lonely winter ahead, I felt empowered meeting him but on my own I was shattered and splintered, I had this glimmer of hope though that maybe after all it was ok to be gay…

But it meant by attacking ego was also having a ball

After a messed up nocturnal winter, a new sanctuary with no real energy because it was visited by only me, I finally met a nice guy my age on-line, we actually spent time, taking about things, enjoying each others company, questioning our sexuality

I got a call from my old job, did I want a job? They didn’t realise I ever worked there before, I went back, or started again…

I could manage my fear and anxiety being around men as long as I had a sex binge every few weeks and got it all out of my system, I was happy to be reunited with my queer friend though, who I feel gave me permission, just by being himself to start my own becoming myself mission

He talked about therapy and training as a counsellor, I was always interested in this too, and I found a therapist

the therapy was good

Sex got better

The secrets remained

The double life got easier

Then I met my “saviour”

A rare Someone who wanted me to come back after the first meeting…

This wasn’t unheard of.. but staying over was, so was mixing drugs and sex…

My mind was on high alert, waiting to get found out and hurt…

Over time visits kept recurring, and I was realised I was no longer going to bed, with ideas that I would rather kill myself before coming out every day in my head

With the help of this relationship I did came out

The Thing was I didn’t know what I was coming out into.. a new relationship of controlling accusations, belittlements and lies, of joy and love sometimes too, growth outweighed by pain and destruction, some healing of shame, but way too many games, I had been treating myself so badly I didn’t even realise he was doing it most of the time

Unconscious drug taking, a new hell in the making, with some beautiful times thrown in too,

in rapid painful contrast like I’ve never knew

Five years it lasted, always promised it would get better, especially when we got a house! Well that did help our relationship feel valid, help me feel better about being gay, but for a four bedroom house, built in garage and garden, it felt squalid

Somehow even with all the promises it would get better, it got far worse when we got that house

I got co-erced for the millionth time into taking drugs, I basically ignored him though, I read my new book the highly sensitive person and listened to frozen by Madonna and

had a mystical experience, realised most of the reason for my suffering was the way I still talked to myself and critically the amount of time I spent criticising others, not to mention having finally discovered at the age of 26 I am highly sensitive not weak or shy, opened up to a new concept of spirituality, and found teachings online that spoke to me

He wasn’t about to stop being the way I finally realised I had been,

in fact he was much worse and watching him continue slating everyone he knew was intolerable. I realise now when I was in Thailand, even though I never set foot near a Temple, only an outdoor yoga place he tried to stop me doing to, I got a clear message “learn to meditate” I had done a bit, which had also helped my spiritual shift although I realised it had already been there in my immense creativity

My best friend had moved away from me a year before but was able to be with me by the phone after I-lost-count-how-many-times-but-not-the-final-escape, and my mum convincing me to call her after waking up on her sofa after running away on a night out once I got Laid into and told her he was being abusive

I talked it all through with my friend, all the way from Australia

I went back but she didn’t forget,

I say to her now, I’m writing part of my life story. Thank you for being there when I needed you when I left, and not forgetting about it and checking how I was doing, helping me find the courage and clarity to Leave and get my life going

I went back for a few weeks, in total despair one Saturday day whilst he snorted Coke and watched porn. My confidence in my ability to stand on my own two feet so knocked I vowed to leave but only after I saved up some money were my conditions to be free

I was dealing with lies I had believed like

“You can’t leave, you will have nothing without me”

“ You can’t go back to your parents they will ruin you”

“No one else will want you”

Thankfully the relationship with my mum had Improved to the point where I was willing to risk going to my parents anyway…

The final night, there was a physical fight, half assed pushing, with nothing half assed about the rage or desperate lies…

I

told him with

immense power,

grace

and

clarity

;

“Nothing, could be worse than staying here with you, this is as bad as it can get”

I’d managed to pack a bag with most of my clothes, I didn’t stay long enough to get anything else, jumping in my car as he shouted at me in the street

I stopped just down the road, screamed, sobbed, punched the steering wheel, cried like I have never cried in my life,

with relief that I finally listened to the inner voice that had been telling it it wasn’t right

for over four years, relief that I had left and the pain of realising just what I had been through, and screamed and sobbed some more, I didn’t have to lie to myself any more

I felt the full force of five years of denials come to the fore

I felt I had no one to turn to who would understand what had happened, my friends were his friends, others had no idea what had been going on and wouldn’t understand

I cried even more when I finally remembered the existence of my friend he had helped turn me against

I phoned her, she was free, helped me process what happened and affirm I would never go back

I did panic, thinking I had thrown something good away and try 6 months later but he was lying to me within hours and I was gone

I let him keep me away from other people, I left him keep me away from other gays, I only met one I met in five years, apart from his friends we took drugs with sometimes, I realised I had no gay friends of my own when this guy started working with me, and I couldn’t be friends with him either, because I immediately got told all I was interested in was fucking him, and reminded of my ex’s mantra, all gays are scum

He repeated this to me for the final time after I left but was still entangled in a house and mortgage, I said to him, I don’t believe you, I’m going to find out if it’s true,

& if it turns out all gays are scum, then that includes me and you

I never got the result of a test for hiv that I finally took years after the blood incident. I assumed negative when I got no result.

Years of smoking weed, snorting Coke and taking ecstasy and a dose of conspiracy

combined with constant headaches had me paranoid, I thought I was dying sometimes and couldn’t think of getting tested, where would I even say I was going to someone so controlling?!

I got a double dose of new life and freedom when I left him and got tested and it was negative. I found one I wasn’t dying after all and now I was free to live

That didn’t stop the Suicidal thoughts coming with all the fearful programming overwhelming me, I was heartbroken and thought maybe I had ruined my life by leaving him like he said I would

I had no control over my vast and impeccable memory of all the things that ever happened, haunting me daily. I wanted to forget, Gain control, feel sane

Building on the mystical experience I had and my opening to spiritual teachings, I was guided again to learn yoga, but found a five day life changing retreat instead

My painful broken heart was able to feel good again, radiating out love to myself primarily, a radical concept and feeling,

then for my best friend in Australia, radiating out love for strangers and even transmuting hatred and pain for people who had hurt me into love. It was called loving kindness meditation but I know recognise it as divine magic

A memory came back to me to be cleared when I was deep in meditation on the “someone who you dislike section” a friends partner said to me

“The disgusting thing about gays is that they look at there straight mates sexually, I think it is so wrong”

I thought at the time this was where I got this idea from, and forgave him. That helped, realising later on though, all he was doing was mirroring a belief I had about myself, feels like it is completely healed now

I felt guided by angels and still do. The synchronicities at that time revolved a lot around the number 14. I left him on the 14th November. I wanted to do something good in the world and started a three month volunteering period to help fund pure, magically life changing projects in India on the 14th too, helping some of the worse treated people in the world, inspired partly by patron Judi Dench saying

“The degradation of others, is also our degradation”

I wondered at times going out door knocking, what the fuck I was doing, had I just signed up for more abuse?

In some ways I had, but in temporary community, although there was an Element of people pleasing, I was celebrated for my honesty at how hurt I had been, congratulated for my courage and bravery, and able to share my artistic talents in a huge collage about the people we were helping, shrines that got grander and and grander every week, and cooking special meals and baking the odd cake to up morale, and every 14th up until the 14th July, my birthday, felt like a huge milestone

I was recognised for my innocence

Innocence without naivety

A Blessing of others perception of

I would later read in a book called gay spirituality, integrating this made me so happy. I wasn’t scum, there was nothing to hide, hate or despise, it’s not a punishment, it’s a gift

I probably didn’t fully yet believe that yet but

I read about the faeries in this book too

I missed two gatherings for more fund-raising and a month long silent retreat, finding my grounding, finding my feet

It was fucking painful to go almost another year, after my breakup, before finally connecting with my Faerie tribe of amazing queers

I felt the love right away, although scared it could just be projection, my heart opened wide after being found crying by the river, talking to someone about what I been through, never been understood clearer

The magic was real, I truly began to heal , no talent shows, a beautiful initiatory ritual of rebirth in drag for the first time since I hit puberty unable any longer, to ignore the funny looks,

finding all this after trusting what I had read in the book

So many beautiful loving connections, a sacred experience on mushrooms on the dance floor at Featherstone, eating from the earth, dancers all around expressing themselves freely, in a building made of the stones of the land, I felt how pure and innocent and divine we all are

So many beautiful and loving faeries, often injured like I was, maybe still am in many ways, although so healed compared to 11 years ago. So healed compared to 3 weeks ago!

Thanks so much to the tribal connections, love and affection, that is facilitated in our magic Faerie castle, our farm by the heart chakra in Avalon, and actual, real sanctuaries beyond Albion

Now when I have sex there is no shame, I feel it is all healed, and if more comes up, I’ll heal that too

There is another beautiful relationship that has just transitioned into friendship to thank more than anything for this

Sharing ourselves and raw divine ecstatic bliss, relishing in each other, praying, holy, recognising the sacred worship that sex can be, creating a loving exclusive container for exploring this with one another, but Ultimately I found the impossibility of sex with others, a block to connection.

I never thought it could happen

I actually believe the act of sex can be healing, even between men. Between anybody.

I had started thinking that the healing power between men was special.. I think all the different combinations available have their own unique healing frequencies, all as valid as as can be

I definitely didn’t get taught this growing up, all I got taught was that I have sex after getting married to a woman and have babies, and there’s loads of different kinds of sex, but all the other ones are wrong. Something like that. Well it ain’t fucking true, fuck you

Memories of unrequited love came back to me when in the pain of a present connection feeling broken by the arrival of an ex. I realised it was never an unrequited love, it was reciprocated and true. We were both just too afraid to act on our desires, and ended up treating each other Badly, what chance did we stand in a small town with no one to show us the way.

Shifts happened

“He doesn’t like me, nothing will ever happen” “he wouldn’t want to have sex with me”

“they will never find me attractive”

Old thoughts melt away.

I realise that this experience in the past made me feel even more undesirable than I already thought I was, that my thoughts of being undesirable contributed to nothing happening, and when someone came along much older than me, I was too ashamed to admit that I actually enjoyed having sex with them. I had sex with someone almost the same age last week, it helped that he was actually mature and awake and sexy In a really rugged, manly way, but I really don’t give a shit about age now or what anyone thinks, trying to anyway

I felt alone again coming home, but the illusion of separation didn’t last long, existing & new connections are now too strong

Community has become experimental for me, in words of a friend, but it is true for me too

it’s so wonderful to be

Part of this tribe

Changing my patterns of fear and isolation, realising I think

“ I must be alone, I need to be alone”

When I actually need to share with someone how I am feeling

I had glorious new sexual encounters, true intimacy, sex magic exploration, opening up to new ways of relating

I knew multiple partners in just a few weeks or even was nothing to be ashamed of

Sex is healing

Sex is divine

I got to know myself so much more, revealing

Myself so much more

Loving others so much more

Free and open to all kinds of connection, love and affection

I feel the most supported I have ever felt in my entire life, not just by my tribe but by all of life

Even my dad listened to me, shared his feelings, gave me advice, feels like for the first time since I was traumatised at 11 and managed since to forgive him,

feel grateful for him although trying,

but Changing his mind after seeing a picture of me and my sister,

to take his own life

Realised he decided to live for us instead

I’m learning to love and accept myself

My body too

I’ve released so much tension from it the last few years, specially the last few weeks

It looks and feels completely different

Thank you

It’s painful that a phase of one relationship had to end for this to happen, but I’m in the flow

I was judging myself for wanting to “give myself to the Faeries”

Having sexual fantasies and watching a lot of porn

Now I have and I feel reborn

All the Love

🦄Unicorn🦄
Brotherhood, Paddington Farm, Personal Stories, Reflection

One Small Year

One small year. It’s been an eternity, it’s taken all of me to get here. Through this one small year.

I found myself in a music circle last night, feeling compelled to murder the above Shaun Colvin song as acknowledgement of the anniversary of my leaving last year’s Imbolc gathering and the changes in my life since then.

Immediately after last Imbolc I made the painful decision to break up for the final time with my ex-fiance. Faced with a flat that reeked of loss, a job I could hardly tolerate and a city full of memories, I hatched a plan to escape and relocate (with considerable help).

Now a full solar rotation later I am in a different country, a different job, I have less stress and I am a Novice within the Order of Perpetual Indulgence. My life is full of new people and renewed purpose.

I had plans to help facilitate the current Imbolc gathering at Paddington Farm alongside some of the team from last year. As the date grew close and discussions began it felt progressively more frustrated and at odds with the process, so I bowed out and encouraged another to take my place.

Instead I concentrated efforts on my new local community. Alongside my good friend and fellow Sister I helped at the Community Christmas Day Dinner and threw myself into manifesting in Bristol and Glastonbury, handing out condoms and lube, delivering a speech as part of the World AIDS Day or writing profanities in glitter onto shiny festive baubles.

Time passed as it does and one chance encounter led to a discussion with a local publican about putting on a queer cabaret night here in the heart of rural Somerset. The Ministry of Martha was born.

In the meantime I began to share some faerie processes and ideas among my fellow Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence. They took well to hissing in circles, they wanted to hear of the magic of queer empowerment, asked about spirituality within the context of sexuality.

All this culminated this week in pulling together an astonishing event here, where Faeries, Sisters and locals mixed, laughed and played together and raised funds for each other including a new LGBTQ youth group in Glastonbury.

Our 5 Sisters were graciously welcomed to the gathering space just outside town and after a brief sleep we walked together to join the Imbolc celebrations at the White Spring and Chalice Well. Sisters and Faeries also ate together and talked a lot, found common ground and opened their hearts in circle.

It has felt like reuniting lost relative tribes this week. Sisters honour their origins that lie with Faeries and the fact that one of their founders, Sister Soami (aka Sister Missionary Position) is still living in Sanctuary space on Short Mountain.

We have much to teach each other and I am blessed to have seen the best in both organisations this week. Oddly enough I have felt more valued and able to contribute at a Faerie Gathering as a Sister than if I had stuck it out and been a Gathering Organiser.

There are challenges here still for me, whether those reveal themselves through discussions around conflict or flickers of jealousy at some of the beauty all around me. New faeries to meet, reminders of happy loving times with past lovers here, the heartache of missing those who have passed through the veil. Familiar rivalries, old behaviour patterns, recalling schisms past and feeling their repercussions still.

Also being on the farm only part of the time, just enough to host an auction and a midnight heart circle or help facilitate a workshop on being a Sister, has been disconcerting. But I think I have become a better Faerie by being a better Nun. Perhaps those in combination might help me be a better realisation of myself. Hell, at least I know by now where spare blankets and towels can be found.

Everything is different now and some of it is even making sense. Blessed Imbolc everyone. You are loved.

Cunty (Princess Cuntmuscle)/Novice Carmen Myanus

Breakups, Personal Stories, Reflection, Vulnerability

Faerie-breakups. A call to sisterhood.

Gather round darlings, Aunt Octopus wants a word.

 

My experience of being introduced to the faeries was through an ex-lover, now Sister/Brother. You might know them; their affection is expressed through playful gestures of invisible flea picking, nipple play and the deep bass and tone of contentment and connectedness; emulating the playful and healing libido of a small, cuddly and radical tribe of the forest – Bonobo.

 

It was a brave manoeuvre to invite me into the space that they had found such home in. I have many tentacles and take up space. It changed my life in only ways that the faeries can and in that spirit, I went on to subsequently nag my then current long term partner to attend – they became Wood Pigeon. Through that experience Wood Pigeon came to exude so much grace and confidence in their queerness that it was clear we were all on to something special. Some years later our lair / nest would grow a little more to accommodate another member – who would also find tribe through us. They became Magpie; a cheeky, playful and curious treasure-seeker. Their journey has been similarly expansive and transformative. They too found a home.

 

These days my lair is my own. The Wood Pigeon has flown and flies in many directions, building temporary nests along the way so as to not make heavy their global adventure of the heart. The Magpie too found a home near water, in an exotic and mischievous floating menagerie of love and constant playtime. They are happy and I’m happy for them. I keep less mirrors on the walls these days. My tentacles bask simultaneously in the light at the mouth of my cave, with some curled and drenched in the shadow. Sometimes I project out to the Jellyfish, undulating upwards all glitter, ruffles and appendages. But for now my heart is safe at home in myself. It’ll be a while until it ventures out again.

 

But enough of the poetry – real struggle, real words. The past year has been a challenge in both personal life and community – which are increasingly inseparable, and so be it. This last chapter has been a true test of my polyamory, my integrity, family and community. Over the last six months of being in various queer and faerie spaces, from the glorious temple of queer rites, to the fields of queer spirit, the racket of global gathering and the heart of Canaan Tribe, I’ve shared and resonated with many gorgeous and courageous creatures who share similar experiences. Some still caught up in the process; still shining but with characteristic wide eyes and hard jaws. Holding on.

 

To clarify, this piece is informed by my own process but also from inspiration. When I say ‘our’, I don’t mean to misrepresent anyone else’s voice or experience. I say it in hopeful solidarity. In essence, I’m trying to trace a common experience of breakups in community to understand potential collaborative solutions and more effective healing structures and spaces.

 

Faerie tribe is a torrent of play and connection of varying intensities – of everything from fleeting gazes and smiles over shared cigarettes, to deep heart connection and intimacy over lengthier periods of time. Sometimes we meet our lovers and partners in situ, sometimes we open the door to tribe for them, sometimes we are the ones invited into tribe through a relationship. It seems to me that the true radicalism of the faeries is how we practice our love and how we navigate our relationships in and out of community. It is not always easy; it is always beautiful but sometimes messy.

 

Nevertheless, as Tribe we hold space for ourselves and each other – for our individual and collective fire; our intensity, passions, anger, shame, fears, jealousies, attachments, perceived flaws and inadequacies. Objectively, we seem to find our way and do a pretty good job. In fact, we rock. But in our mish-mash of connections and intense faerie affairs there can be casualties too – inevitably, for whatever reason, faeries may need to breathe space into a connection with a significant other(s). Draw it to a close. Recalibrate and re-configure as a means of self-preservation, healing and renewal. Hearts break and there are heart aches. The question is, when love implodes, transitions and transforms in community, how does community hold us? Or does it hold us at all?

 

I think it’s fair to say that after a parting of faerie-ways a whole mess of feelings follows suit. My experience and those processes I have witnessed seem to speak to how post break up, community can seem a precarious place. A sense of tribe can quickly devolve into a conspiracy of discrete fractions and alliances where we may find ourselves having to survey upcoming gatherings and events to see where and what is safe for us. Particular faeries close to an ex-partner may become ripe for projection, our ‘storyboards’. In this sense, without support, it’s easy to see how one can quickly become a co-conspirator in their own fear and isolation.

 

Shame may be experienced through the exposure of a breakup in community – externalising self-judgement and blame for a connection gone awry onto the faces of tribe. Self-esteem, already at a low ebb through the often injurious ride of decoupling, remains depleted as we struggle to find footing in our usual store of magick and power – tribe-as-home. Drum circles become clashing symbols of memories and triggers echoing what has been lost. There may be a struggle to find the dance, rhythm and beat that was uniquely ours before our merger. And as the tribe shifts, fluctuates and grows, as it tends to do, the distance needed for healing can feed into a sense of being left behind – of not knowing where the point of re-connection or re-entry is.

 

How do we find our place again? Our community, being the glorious vanguard of sex-positivity, free-love and polyamory that it is, means that there’s always the potential for some sloppy faerie encounter lurking around the corner, involving your ex-partner and multiple other creatures, to twist into your belly what is lost and where you aren’t. To find solace beyond the smog of faerie breakup, we may even seek Tribe on the other side of the world; to cry in unfamiliar circles and be comforted by an impartial gaze. In worst case scenarios, these experiences can be unbearable and the escape can be very final, meaning complete detachment from community. This isn’t a sensational point, it happens. And for others, the inhibiting consequences of all of this, or perhaps of anticipating the mess that can come through relationship in community, is to rule out deeper intimacy with other faeries – to connect deeply on all other levels but the kind of sacred intimacy and sexuality that risks a bruised heart. But which forms also a vital part of our ritual and celebration together – of our love.

 

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve heard other stories too. Positive stories. And beyond the challenge, I’m involved here and now in the co-creation of one myself. Many of us live to tell the tale of how beautiful tribe can be post-heartbreak, when a true sense of family arises from the ashes of what was before. Indeed, one morning in a queery field in Wiltshire, a dear former lover bound out of their sleeping space to unexpectedly fall onto two sleeping faeries who had arrived late in the night and took up residence in the porch of their tent. Both of us had shared deep connection with them in the past to go onto forge a chemistry and friendship of our own. In that moment, the love among the three of us was tangible. Later that day, that faerie would counsel me in the rawness of a current breakup to say: the struggle is real but worth it – in what other world do we have the chance to queer our relationships through pure alchemy into the most unexpected but steadfast and persistent arrangements of love and harmony. Real people. Real tribe.

 

But this story is also a shout out and an invitation. An invitation to consider as a community how we can support this fragile re-birth in a way that flows more gently and that holds people lovingly through the transition. What does real sisterhood around breakups look like in faerie community? How do we create alliances around both parties struggling with heartbreak and separation that are transparent, non-exclusive, reciprocative, communicative and well resourced? Which of us feels able to steward from the heart, to be visible, present and accessible as counsel to those faeries struggling with the fallout of heartbreak in community? What do these systems of support look like, where do they exist and how do they function? If heartache in community is part and parcel of the process – if it is something to learn from, grow from and in the end, to benefit from – how do we gather round to make that medicine easier to swallow? How do we integrate the inevitable ebb and flow of connection in faerie space in a way that allows those intimately involved in a shifting connection, and the whole community witness to it, to mine the gold beyond the pain?

 

This is call for solidarity, sharing and ideas. Let’s workshop, explore and create.

 

Thanks for all of those in Tribe for inspiring this piece through their heartache, vulnerability and sharing.

 

Love you.

 

Octopus X

 

Other stuff by Octopus:

Our Glorious Bodies. 

You have to be there to be transformed. 

Art, Cookery, Personal Stories, Philosophy, Poetry & Prose, Reflection

Albion faerie authors


The creativity of the AlbionFae is flowing into print and electronic books…

Check us out!

 

QUEER DEITY, SACRED SLUT by Al Head

QUEER DEITY, SACRED SLUT’ invokes ancient and modern archetypal figures along with a revel of QUEER DEITIES. It explores themes of paganism, gender, sexuality, identity, healing and the ways we connect with each other and the earth.

Its magical, embodied and radical prose is woven with poems and songs to form a rich tapestry imbued with the author’s unique perspective.    http://www.alhead.co.uk/2.html

ebook available from: http://www.lulu.com/shop/http://www.lulu.com/shop/al-head/queer-deity-sacred-slut-thoughts-in-process/ebook/product-23422958.html

ESSENCE: THE BEGINNER’S GUIDE TO VEGANISM by Edward Daniel

Packed with mouth-watering recipes, emotive poetry and themes on letting go of the past, this book is a highly personal, very readable result of a lifetime commitment to bring about change and understanding to the new paradigm we find ourselves in. This paradigm involves making spiritual choices from the heart.

This book offers a heart-centric way of living and invites the reader to be open to new ideas and ways of being. It is an exquisitely illustrated, evocative beginner’s guide to veganism and a passionate argument on why to go vegan. Edward breaks down barriers that lead to a new spiritual well being achieved through a wholesome, plant-based diet.  http://www.ethivegan.com/ethivegan-book-essence-the-beginners-guide-veganism/

I AM GOD: Seven Magickal Steps to Personal Divinity by Lilith

To be truly divine we must learn to be wild again – to un-domesticate ourselves. We need to let go of the fear, the self-hatred, and the ‘good’ behaviour that we’re driven to by the doctrine of monotheism.

This book takes you on a journey from your inner world to the outer cosmos, it offers a simple yet potent training for personal discovery and enlightenment.

Using story, magick, ritual, sacred-sex, meditation, journey, and the ecstatic state, it gives you the tools that will inspire your spiritual experience and awaken you to your deep inner wisdom.

http://www.lulu.com/gb/en/shop/lilith/i-am-god-seven-magickal-steps-to-personal-divinity/paperback/product-20981367.html

ebook at https://www.amazon.co.uk/Am-God-Magickal-Personal-Divinity-ebook/dp/B013CGVBOC

THE MICE by Roger Mason

Starbuck’s critically acclaimed series of graphic novels:

‘This is smart science fiction’ SFX magazine
‘Multi-layered and thoughtful; a great read…’ Forbidden Planet
9/10 Comics International
‘There’s nothing else like it – 4/5 stars’ Sci Fi Now magazine

http://looksgoodonpaper.co.uk/comic-artist-roger-mason/mice-graphic-novel-by-roger-mason/

THE QUEER DIARY OF MORDRED VIENNA by Russell Christie

Christian, Daniel and Alan are drawn to San Francisco on the cusp of the digital age. They find work as erotic performers in the emporia of the city. Through outcaste and avant-garde connections at The Ashbury Theater, they meet the artist Mordred Vienna. Like them, she arrived from somewhere else. Now, she uses her body as her canvas and the focus of her installations. Together they make new performances as they move from the twilight world of the homosexual into the computer systems of Silicon Valley and on to Hollywood and mainstream success.

The Queer Diary of Mordred Vienna is a work of queer fiction. It uncovers a journey from obscurity to recognition, from exile to inclusion and mutual acknowledgement. Moving from the country to the city and from the margins to the center, the book plots an alternative history of LGBTQ liberation. Like life, it has erotic content.

Copies on sale at Gays the Word bookshop and from http://www.amazon.co.uk/Queer-Diary-Mordred-Vienna/dp/1508760977

ebook: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00UAQ056I

AIDS SHAMAN: Queer Spirit Awakening by Shokti Lovestar

Take a journey with Shokti, AIDS survivor who awoke to the spiritual realms while sick in the 1990s. Poetry and prose to make you think about the role gay/queer people play in the human story, plus inspiration from queer ancestors, prophets and teachers.

Ebook and paperback available from http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/shokti

Inclusivity, Personal Stories, Vulnerability

Personal reaction to the post on “Safety & Inclusivity after Orlando”

I’ve been doing some writing trying to put into words how I feel about the recent blog post
Part of it is that I really would like to be listened to and seen by male faeries as I am, and it be appreciated I may not represent and speak for all women
I feel as though to be seen in the group of ‘women’ all the time is something I have found limiting and quite scary throughout my life – hence why I became queer!
To go to an inclusivity circle and be there as ‘a woman’ is a pretty scary thing and having a bunch of men ask themselves ‘what can we do to protect the women’ is also pretty scary
I am also not an ‘essentialist’ when it comes to gender. I recognise the impact of sexism and think it had a massive impact on what happened at the gathering
But I also think it is really not something we should be too simplistic about, e.g. from now on women are really vulnerable to this and men aren’t, therefore attributing certain fixed characteristics to people’s genders
Because to me being queer is about accepting diversity in gender, yet I heard some pretty essentialist views about women in the faeries. That when women express some dominating qualities they are being masculine ,or men are being feminine if they are submissive . I personally just think we are being ourselves, and men can be passive and women can be assertive, whatever!
I am so used to losing freedoms to be myself in a space as soon as people start clinging to gender definitions and men start trying to be heroes
I’ve been lashed out by so many men treating their role as protector of me as a woman as an ego boost who then attack me when I don’t show my appreciation for them by acting like (their view of) one
That is what is making me quite uncomfortable to join in discussion ‘as a woman’. I don’t want to be labelled as a transgressive or subversive woman if I don’t say something typical
I don’t want other people taking the ‘woman ‘identity and putting it on me when I want to define who I am as a woman in the space, not be part of some collective mentality
I am also feeling like these issues should not just be seen as women’s issues within the faeries. We all should be concerned about any group or individual experiencing abuse or being victimised
Personally I feel strongly I do not want the male faeries to ‘protect me’ I would like to define how I protect myself in the space as a person not play a role for the male faeries to protect
That triggers off all kinds of things for me

That’s my personal thoughts

Rachel

~~~~~~~

Hi, I feel like saying that I don’t feel safe in a space where men expect me to have a ‘heart circle’ with someone whose behaviour instantly reminds me of one of my abusers. I have twice been a rape victim and experience post traumatic symptoms I do not come to faerie gatherings to be part of a triggering psychological experiment

After “John” was asked to leave I listened to two days of conversation of empathy and compassion for him and his behaviour, and when it came to the impact on the women was told briefly ‘it was just inappropriate behaviour’. I was told no one was harmed, and he really wasn’t all that bad. I did not hear anyone express any concern for those who might not have felt safe. Only what a shame it was he could not have stayed so he could have been helped.

When I raised a conversation I had heard with someone else, I was told you can’t possibly have heard that in faerie space, and names were demanded I had men demand I tell them what John actually said and did when I didn’t feel comfortable to.

People said it was just women’s lower sex drives or John bisexuality or sexual confusion that was the issue. When I contradicted this as a bisexual and a woman, a man told me ‘myself and another man had this conversation and this is the conclusion we have come to’ – end of conversation!

I heard John having conversation with his partner rating the women at the gathering, rating me, and selecting me as a target for his behaviour.

I also overheard conversation with two male faeries about him describing how he met a girl and she only wanted a hug, and how he said “come on ..”,and expected her to sleep with him, and he was bragging about how this girl should have wanted it and couldn’t accept how she didn’t. And trying to recruit faeries to go out and find a girl to bring back for sex

Told that it was unfortunate he had to leave

I couldn’t enter a room while he was there, and most of all was scared that if he approached me and I rejected his advances, and he continued pushing….

If I told the men at the gathering but they would not understand and insist (as they did) that he was just clumsily trying to make his feelings known, and if it was triggering emotions in me perhaps I need to deal with them (as I have been told many times)

I’ve been told over and over again John is someone they had empathy with, because like all of us he just wants sex but uses inappropriate language like pussy and we need to see past the language used

Over and over again when upset and angry I have been talked down, told it is my personal issue I need to deal with in faerie space that I am triggered. That I choose the way I want to see things. I found whenever I was upset or angry I felt treated not like a victim of abuse who felt unsafe but a woman getting herself all worked up over something insignificant I should ‘get over’, and men wanting to win the intellectual argument rather than showing any empathy with how I might have felt

I’ve been told it is not a safe space because women cannot expect to come to gatherings and not be triggered. That should not be a reason for men to use to say men who behave inappropriately towards women should stay to be ‘healed’ Or that men ‘s judgement over how I heal from abuse and feel safe or respond when I am not feeling safe should override my own

I am very concerned angry and upset about people feeling more concerned about proving their ability as men to heal others, and demanding what experience people should have or emotions they should express when experiencing aggressive behaviour or violence. That this ability has become more important than acceptance of those who have experienced it.

I thought faerie space was supposed to be about acceptance of feelings not denial of them and I feel strongly that was not my experience at this gathering regarding this incident

Thank you for writing the blog post and supporting the ability to feel safe and express feelings of unsafety

I just needed to express how I felt

Rachel

~~~~~~~

I’ve had some men express that they feel ‘inappropriate touch’ and ‘harassment’ is a more ‘normalised’ part of gay male culture than hetero culture, and men develop tougher skins

Which I find concerning on several levels. To me it was clear the behaviour at the gathering was predatory behaviour and involved an individual not respecting the consent of others

Regardless of gender I think that’s an issue that should be taken seriously in itself

I object to the word tougher skins. Its particularly irritating in that I spent the last two years working with people with disabilities two of whom are gay / bisexual men who were abused as children. The consequences of this are quite evident psychologically and in relationships. They are vulnerable men and I would not say they have tougher skins

I find it quite insensitive; people of all genders might have situations that make them feel more vulnerable or unsafe and it should be OK to address that

And if touch without consent or ‘harassment’ is a normal part of gay culture does that make it ok?

I find comments like that frankly dangerous and put me off bringing vulnerable adults to a gathering as well

I also don’t think the people saying these things know the difference between something making you feel a little uncomfortable or something really feeling unsafe and traumatising

It irritates me now some men are putting gay men on a pedestal ‘oh we are just somehow tougher / better able to deal with it than women’

Which is not just disrespectful to women its really disrespectful to so many vulnerable men who struggle with this sort of thing. I’ve done some work with homeless and disabled people and can assure these people how many struggle with consequences of things like this

If it’s normalised in culture for those who haven’t processed trauma I can’t imagine that it helps much.

Rachel

Events, Personal Stories

The Orlando massacre has opened a wound.

The Orlando massacre has opened a wound.

A wound that’s always there, so I got used to it.

Now I’m bleeding again, and remembering how homophobia has shaped my life.
Carved it’s trauma into my being.

Being forced into ‘boy’ clothing for primary school, even though I’d crossed dressed, with my twin sister, 0-7years old.

Being dragged to the barber so my father can have me ritually humiliated, my long golden locks removed to make me a ‘real’ boy.

Punishments, slaps, punches, torture, hate-speech, humiliation and shaming by my father (ex-army/PTSD/Religious) to make me a ‘man’. All this echoed in the ‘play’ ground where ‘queer’ was the grossest of insults.

Terrified that I, and all homos are paedophiles, as my father’s newspapers keep telling me.

Believing I must take up arms and kill, as my father did, to prove my gender conformity.

Self-harming since age 7, hiding, drugging, hating, depression, illness, loneliness, alienation.

Being hissed at and told to leave gay clubs because I was too femme or non-comformist.

Being ejected from a gay venue for kissing another man.

Trying to be ‘masc’ to please the ‘masc’ gays.

Falling in love with other similarly traumatized men, and being heart-broken by the fear of losing them, of him being queer-bashed, murdered. Trapped in our closets, unable to open to each other, truly embrace each other. The utter loneliness of failure and loss. Too scared to hold hands in public, hug, or kiss. Letting him go at the end of the night as if we were just mates, coz I don’t want anyone to see us, and follow him, and hurt him. And because I’m ashamed, and scared for myself, too.

Having a whole bus of people, a whole train carriage of people, allow me to be verbally attacked by homophobes.

Being followed down the street, threatened, shoved, pushed over a wall.

Feeling contaminated, dirty, frightened to use my parents towels in case I have AIDS.

Told I should stop giving blood donations, so I stop.

Coming out to my mother, whom I loved SO dearly, and seeing her heart BREAK…………… that was the hardest of all. Fifteen years after her death, I am finally able to look at her photograph and not feel destroyed by grief. Though I weep now, as I type.

The curse of being misunderstood and rejected by the person you love the most in this world. After my mother died, I realised I might one day be able to be happy as a queer, as now she can accept me, and over-stand, from the spirit world.

And still to this day, I have homophobic neighbours who scowl at me, make every micro-second in the lift unbearable, unbreathable, so that my heart stops on their floor – will they be there? Am I looking too obvious? Am I strong enough today, not to give a shit!?

And I don’t expect anyone to care about any of this.

I feel open to ridicule just airing these experiences.

“Just be a man, shut up, and get on with it.”, the world shouts back.

I’ve been known to freak-out, lose it, be ‘on the Tourettes Syndrone spectrum’. But I’m seriously guarded, don’t be fooled. My breaking point feels like a black-out, I have no memory. Heart-circle facilitators can find me ‘too heavy’… so I don’t attend anymore.

But I’m a double scorpio, so….

GET USED TO IT!!!!

Once the volcano has erupted, all is warm flowing GLOW!!!

And the amazing thing is, I still TOTALLY heart being queer, and always have. The lies and hurt have made me cynical and cautious, but i still want to reach out, to be heard, to listen, to find real community.

heart to all the QUEERS!!!

RaAr AKA Rabbit Star AKA Wynyy AKA Mark

Art, Gathering, Personal Stories, Philosophy, Vulnerability

Does the world change when you close your eyes?

Dear great spirit – I offer gratitude for your guidance and total removal of nice predictable patterns!

Just as I was feeling comfortable in having read and followed the “solstice script” around my thoughts, feelings and emotions, this year you, of course, re-wrote it.

I was expecting a slight hiccup at the start before moving in to warm, joyous connection, sensuality and rising energies, culminating in cosmic-orgasmic eruptions around the fire.

I got tumultuous fits of cynicism to get past, coldness to learn to love, connections that felt confusing to me with energy flows that seemed random and awkward at times.

What I wanted, what I sought to create, what I felt must happen – it was as elusive as ice upon a fire.

Yet I feel I am learning – something around “choice”; that sometimes there is no point getting stressed out or worked up around having to decide this or that. More and more it seems that for me at least, choice is actually a misrepresented thing; a presumptive thought that “ME” can decide to do or not do, to go or not go, to act or not act. The reality is that I am in service to spirit and the “choices” are already there.  Thinking I can say yes or no makes no sense much like deciding to choose not to see the heard of elephants that is stampeding towards you; pretending that the great hole you have just fallen in to isn’t there; kidding yourself that you are stone dry when you take a shower…

Now back away from nature and from faerie energy, I notice myself falling back in to that crater of my habits, of my addictions, of my lack of being able to feel the loving connection of all and everything.

BUT

Sitting here, as I look back, great Spirit is slowly letting me re-read my solstice script. It’s beginning to seem that those 10 days under the energy of the Torr were the abridged summation of my life.

I have “wants”; I have “desires”; I have need to “control”; I have lack of self-belief; I have cynicism; I find it hard to trust others…

I cling to the idea that I have to make choices and the fate and flow of the universe hangs from every one of those decisions ….

I dragged myself in to the gathering at the start and I ran away from it at the end and I see it is so easy for me to let the cold and wet grow in my sole and let the love, the dancing, the sharing, the connection, the vulnerability, the holding – the faerie spirit – fade and die.

I can “choose” to let that happen but of course it won’t actually since deep down the good is still there, waiting to resurface at the next gathering – so my choice is just a closing of my eyes, a denying of what is there.

Keeping your eyes open when you feel tired is hard; Seeing what you don’t want to see is painful.

Perhaps the solution is to embrace spending time with Captain Caffeine, with Molly Mandy and with others?

But the message seems clear – those elephants will keep on coming even if my eyes are closed!

Snail – June 2016

Does the world change...
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