Feet to source

It’s a funny thing being me, especially with the kind of past I have had and the kind of life I have lived – if you can call it a life that is…

Especially if you’ve read me for a while, you’d know my life has been a life of mostly isolation growing up and it wasn’t much better when I got away from my abusers, I had three years of true freedom before I became bedbound sick for a number of years.

You’d know too, that I am getting better, not spending so much time in bed anymore and I am able to do a little more for myself, such as exercise a little and today in particular was the first time I ever cooked anything since around 2017.  Nothing big, we have a lot of pecans going to waste as nobody but me seems to like them outside of a pecan pie – so I decided to get people eating them I’d make them into candied pecans.

To say I did it though feels wrong, as I had too much help from Paul; help I really didn’t need, but there you go – I don’t have the heart to tell people to go away I’m fine, especially when I know that its touchy for him when I say things like that.

It’s also difficult to do it effectively where you wouldn’t burn the caramel you’re making when he is standing in the kitchen like a saw thumb between you and the nuts, so you have to communicate to him to pass them – only he doesn’t – he puts them in for you, takes the spoon out of your hand and completes the rest.   Making me feel like a privileged child as I spoon it all out the pan whilst he holds it onto a baking sheet to dry – it’s lovely he wants to help me, but it’s frustrating too as I am trying to be more independent around the house so I can move out.

It wasn’t how I’d like to do the candied pecans either, we don’t have brown sugar and had to use white cane sugar instead, not the same; also there was no vanilla in the house.

A simple thing like making candied pecans in fifteen minutes is a battle for independence, I’d never thought I’d say that when I moved out of my mother’s in 2009.

Three years ago I used to love my garden, now I am getting to the subject that was the catalyst for this post; until the bad neighbour moved in next door and started sexually harassing me every five minutes, literally!  But of course there is no proof, no CCTV to show the police about it, so Paul just shrugs it off and does nothing – so the garden is no longer a haven or a means of exercise or joy for me anymore.

Paul hates gardening so he doesn’t really like just standing around like a sentinel scarecrow to make the guy keep away, because he won’t do anything when he knows Henry and Paul are around he is a coward!

I miss my garden a lot – my whole life I was raised in a garden, literally!

As a child I was sort of home-educated mostly between short bursts of mainstream schooling and when I wasn’t having the occasional lesson from my dyslexic mother, I would be bare foot out in the garden for hours on end, playing with the dogs, the neighbours cats and my rabbit.

The garden was my place, until my parents claimed it when I was around nineteen years old.  I grew things donated to me from lovely elderly neighbours who’d pass things over the fence to me for me to plant and care for, whilst telling me how to look after them.

Now you’d want to be deadheading those daffodils with a good pair of scissors, leave the foliage alone to die back naturally or the bulbs will be useless for next year!

Things like that.

My parents had a three room stone shed in the garden, they were big rooms too, and the middle room had its very own toilet, which meant I didn’t need to go indoors unless I was hungry or thirsty!

The room further into the garden was my dad’s shed for storing tools and lawnmowers etc. – but the room closest to the house was mine from late March to late October and was decked out like a Wendy House by me, I wanted a light out there but I wasn’t allowed, but I was gifted candles and matchsticks by people and sometimes used to sit in the dark windowless room by candlelight pretending it was my very own home!

I played in the garden all year around, but I lost my little house for those few months because it was a warmer place to store the rabbit – or so my parents said – out of the wind and all of that.

Paul was horrified that I had gardened so much and ran about barefoot, because I have never not even to this day ever had a tetanus shot!  My parents were anti-vaxers – I had my first ever vaccine two weeks after Henry was born, an MMR vaccine and I really should think about getting a tetanus shot someday too!

But until the bad neighbour moved in, I was out in the garden quite a lot and half of the time I was bare foot – I say half the time, because Paul was always moaning at me to put the shoes back on again as it isn’t safe… but I like feeling grounded to the earth and I am pretty sure it’s why I got sick – the lack of connection to the Earth, I was took from my feral habitat from a North London garden to the midlands where they wear shoes all the time!

I don’t think it’s good for me!

You can’t take a semi-feral nature’s child and put her in shoes all day and expect her to wear slippers even around the house, because of whatever nonsense notions you’ve got.  I like being barefoot and why can’t I be barefoot around the house? 

And what is wrong about dipping toes in the local lake, when you’re sitting on a pier watching the fish, swans and toads whilst you are scooping handfuls of birdseed into the beaks of ducks and geese?

Yes the water has algae but it doesn’t stick to my feet and its not toxic waste, so what’s the problem?  My Henry’s life is far too sanitary thanks to Paul and thanks to Paul; Henry has a phobia of all insects, dogs and soil!

Why soil, you may ask?  Because Paul has given him the misconception that all soil is some kind of poo or dead creature!  Enough to put anyone off touching soil with that tosh!

I feel so much like a fish out of water in this place you’d have no idea!

Yes, shoes are nice, I like shoes, in fact I am like a normal woman in regards to loving shoes and handbags and bracelets, more than any other fashion item!  Before poverty stepped in I had thirty pairs of shoes, I tend to buy for every kind of weather and every colour I can so I can match my clothing.

But its quite another thing to connect to the earth via your feet!

Also it’s weird wearing one colour entirely and then having completely different shoe colours – it’s ok if it is black, but if say you are wearing black and have red shoes that’s weird to me, or mostly brown dress and you have green shoes… to me it just feels wrong!  Unless you balance it off with the same colour hat or clutch!

But I digress… I have felt desperate for nearly three years to get into my garden to a cleared area and just stand there in my bare feet and soak up the energies of the Earth… especially since our house sits on top of an underground river, where my energies are regularly being taken down stream quite literally without any boost.

Despite how isolated I was growing up, I always had a strong connection to the Earth.  A feral child who practically learned the shamanic arts all by herself by sitting, observing nature in its entirety and befriending the wildlife like a Disney princess and absorbing everything… crazy I know, but I have a strong connection and understanding for animals and I believe they speak to me because I understand them… people laugh at me when I tell them that until they witness the most astonishing things!

You have bear and horse whisperers in the world; well I am one of those kinds of people, though I tend to whisper to everything… except most wasps, most wasps are highly strung creatures!

My neighbour in London thought we had a rabid squirrel once, when he was shrieking loudly clinging for dear life on the pebbledash walls of their house, screaming at our bedroom window – I explained no he isn’t rabid, he is just angry that it’s nearly 11am and I haven’t opened the window yet to feed him the peanuts I usually give him by 10am!

They laughed and called me crazy, so I told them, look up at the window now, I’ll feed him and he will be quiet until tomorrow… if I am late again he’ll scream, I will prove to you its why he is shouting – then the next day I will feed him the normal time and you won’t hear him at all.  They didn’t believe me until the squirrel reacted exactly as I predicted on all occasions!

The neighbour was amazed!  This same squirrel caused chaos for three months when I moved in with Paul, because for three months he was sure I’d be there and I weren’t.

Same here with Paul – my strongest spirit guide is a crow, raven or magpie in fact any corvid.  All of those communicate with me a lot and if they don’t see me for more than two days, it is like the owl scene from Harry Potter, only with crows and magpies around the house!

If I am going away for any length of time, I have to tell the local magpie or crows because of the chaos they will cause in the street I live if I don’t!

A crow saved my life once; I think I mentioned it in a previous post?  Funny really, because I’ve saved two in my life!

What’s even more funny is that it was only recently I was told by a fellow witch that crows symbolise the cross between alternate realities and worlds, I knew they were the keepers of secrets and messengers from the spirit realm, but I never knew they were known for flying between realities and that people who have them as their main animal spirit guide tend to be the strongest of shamans.

It would explain a lot really, as I am able to go into trances pretty quickly, my clairvoyance skills are very strong and I do live between realities a lot.  In fact, whenever I go into a new spiritual shop who don’t know me very well, the first thing the owners tend to say to me or other witches that are there is… you need to ground yourself love, we feel you’re not doing that enough!

That’s something a lot of people who knows me always think about me… you’re just not grounded enough, come back Tina!

There is a friend my mum had once who had a dog who was cared for by someone whilst she went on a holiday to Turkey, my friend wanted to know why her dogs behaviour had changed so much when she got back!  I did my usual, looked into the dogs eyes deeply and I said, “What’s got into you”?  He kicked me, she said through her eyes… I said this out loud and my mum’s friend screamed out WHAT?  WHO?  I said who?  She named the person, because apparently there were three carers she had on hand.  She named them; I didn’t know the person but told the friend.

The friend was amazed that I got this information from her dog and how the blazes do I know his name?

I just pointed at the dog and my mum shook her head and told her friend, she never lives in this world I’ve told you! 

Her friend always referred to me for spiritual readings but she was amazed I could communicate like that with her dog!

Crazy… maybe… but I have stunned a lot of atheists with accuracies and Paul is one of them – he is a hard-core atheist, but even he admits that he can’t deny the things that happen around the house since I moved in!

The problem comes with how busy I am, the more busy I am the more disconnected I am to the source where I am able to be like this!  I remember before I got sick, it was the least spiritual time of my life – I was walking around with shoes on most of the time because of Pauls concerns for my feet – and I was too busy with everything that I was doing to even meditate and then CRASH – I got sick and I don’t think it was a coincidence!

I need a good long holiday somewhere where there is a lot of wildlife and nature, somewhere I can walk barefoot whenever I like, sit on the ground and dip my toes in a natural spring or running water, breathe fresh air, meditate and away from human noise – talk to some animals and the ancestors of the earth, have lots of sex and reconnect to my source in a big way!

Yes sex is important… more important than you think!  LOL I run on tantric energy!

Despite this… it sounds like I love being a solitary creature doesn’t it?  But no, I hate it in fact!

For me living in solitude is like a toxin… I don’t get that buzzing feeling I usually get when I socialise… I recharge alone to some extent, but I don’t buzz and become fully charged in solitude… I am not like that!

As I once joked on here before, I have the life of some kind of yogi.

But that should really be taken quite seriously.

As I am getting older I am sticking more to my instincts and intuition more than what I read in books and I am getting stronger spiritually in myself.  This is being seen by quite a few people.

For example, most books told me to use white light healing around me – this actually makes me ill and it isn’t good for me, so I told the people who suggested this to me and they said it’s because I am blocking the spiritual power, let myself go and continue.  But I got sicker.

For me, when I was spell crafting it was always electrical blue light for magick and dense gold light for anything else… when I ignored the white light and went with dense gold, I got results!

So much so, that now when I think of the dense gold light, I am actually visibly turning gold by sensitive onlookers, which gets a lot of conversations starting up in spiritual shops I can tell you!

My Henry for example was very startled by this a few weeks back!

He never believed his mother is a former witch, until he saw that golden glow in my face and palms of my hands whilst I was trying to heal a wound of his with reiki.  Weirdly enough, that mark he had would have been on him for two weeks, if I hadn’t of used the reiki on him that I did – the mark vanished within hours!

This post is getting a bit long now so I think I will stop here…

Thanks for reading! 

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