V is for Vague – Pagan Blog Project 2013

Hello again!
 
Today I’m writing about “vague” both in the English sense of “nebulous” and in the French sense of “wave”. Possibly more the latter than the former.
 
See, I don’t (typically) get visions, and very few of my brushes with Otherworld/Moreworld stuff/people are particularly visceral. But I get feelings. Feeeeeeeeeeeeeeelings. I can feel the top of my head open up (or possibly just get tingly around the scalp line above my ears) and then get some kind of quasi-confirmative statement about that feeling like “You had a visitor – this ball of purple light blinked on about a foot above your head, just then”.
 
Sometimes I do this thing – we’re on the French definition of “vague” now – that, in a different religious context, would be called “rocking in the spirit”. It’s how I know (or react?) when Someone is brushing up against me, trying to make contact, trying to come through.
Sometimes it’s pretty intense (by my standards) – I’ve had people sharing the circle with me get rather worried that my head was going to wind up in a candle-flame; I’ve felt – not often, but once or twice – like Someone had literally grabbed me by the head and was just shaking me up and down until they were done (and the “done” part was very much like being let-go-of, too).
 
This happened yesterday afternoon. Not the intense kind, but the “It appears that I’m being compelled to rock back and forth without my having a say in whether it happens or not… Hm…” kind. I was saying Hello to the sewing machines[1] and… it’s not that they said Hello back because, honestly, I’m enough of a brick that I doubt I’d pick up on something that specific/subtle that… easily. But Something/Someone was awake and… “aware that I was paying attention” is maybe something a little more accurate. Like someone making eye-contact, but not with their eyes? A confirmation of “Yes, I/We see you seeing us. Okay”. That kind of thin, maybe?
I don’t know. It’s fairly guess-work on my end of things, but that’s what was going on yesterday, so I thought I’d bring it up.
 
I can’t help but wonder if all of this stuff – these antique machines being put to use doing ancient work by my wife, the amount of fibre-arts stuff that I’m learning and trying and making part of my life, even the candle-making – I can’t help wondering if it’s feeding my Lady Of The Hearth in some way. More on that later, I suspect.
 
 
TTFN,
Meliad the Birch Maiden.
 
 
[1] My leather-working wife has something like eight at this point, and – being mostly antique (pre-1960) cast iron Singers, they make quite the wee flock of Strange Black Birds in our living room.