The King and Queen of Goats

My mind is more settled now. I spent an hour meditating on what Hermaphroditey had conveyed to me after the nightmare of my previous post. It’s not all about you, Aisselle, were the words she had spoken silently in my left ear. And somehow, while I was contemplating the meaning of this insight, the past came creeping slowly back in a little scene of childhood on a small screen in my mind’s eye.

Picture this: my witchy mother, Henna, telling me stories by the light of many candles arranged in a circle in our garden at Halloween. A multitude of moths flitter round our heads as we sit in the centre by a small fire with the cauldron bubbling away merrily, the delicious Otherworldly smell of hot chocolate swirling under our noses, and she is speaking of long ago ceremonies in a forest that was new, even though the trees were very tall, and of her friends who could work magic. She said their leader was a man called Gerald, who was a bit of an old goat (I wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but I didn’t ask), and how they would all dance about and drink special wine and have fun.

I think that was when I had my very first vision, for suddenly, like deja vu all over again, I saw him anew, sitting on the throne with grapes growing all around it and laughing like a goat that has just done something very wicked that nobody else knows about yet. He wasn’t in the forest that was new this time though, but on top of a hill with clouds all around, a pentacle propped up beside him. I waited for him to do something, but he just kept laughing.

The scene fades to be replaced by another. Seven goats surround a barefoot lady dressed in blue gingham. She seems to be examining the leg of one who has placed it across her knees. At first I thought it must be me, but then the truth rushed in like a billy goat to a field of nannies. Her younger self turned to me and said, Look carefully, Aisselle, it is I, your mother, Henna! You are of me, and I am of the Earth. So I looked closely at her face and it was indeed her!

I waited, but she faded and no more visions came. So I decided to record the fruits of my meditation in two new cards for my Grand Ellessia Tarot, the King and Queen of Goats.

I finished the cards and sat looking at them. It was almost as if I’d left something out, or that the cards were trying to tell me something. And as I type this a terrible thought steals into my head. If Gerald and Henna were the King and Queen of Goats…

Perhaps Hermaphroditey was wrong – perhaps it is all about me.

I have to find Henna…

More later (hopefully), wish me luck.

Blessings, Aisselle.

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The Boy on the Hill…


Page of Tinfoil Hats

My Grand Ellessia Tarot is coming along beautifully, and I’m always amazed at how inspiration arrives in the most unexpected ways. I was sitting on the little hill behind the caravan yesterday looking through dear Pixie’s tarot. From time to time I’d gaze at the sky, thinking how fascinating are the strange and funny shapes the clouds form themselves into – almost as if they’re trying to tell us something. I’m not referring to weather forecasts but of more momentous things. Henna, my witchy mother, used to gaze skywards often. She said cloud-watching was no different from any other form of divination – just like reading tea leaves, except that you had to look up rather than down.

But I digress. I’d been watching the clouds rushing across the sky but when I looked towards the field and the goats everything had changed. The familiar scene was exactly like Pixie’s Page of Swords card, except that instead of the young man grasping his weapon in both hands and pointing it skwards, there, in the same spot as the page on the card, stood a little boy. His eyes were large and blue like the sky, gazing upwards at something far away that I could not see. I could tell by his face he was a sensitive child, standing there in his tinfoil hat and his lovely S-belt holding a long blue and silver box. Who could he be? He was very young to be out on his own with no one in charge of him.

The answer came to me like a flash of sunlight on a milk bottle top. The clue to his identity was right in front of my eyes, printed on the box! AL…….. I couldn’t read the rest of the letters though, for the next second he had disappeared and the goats were grazing peacefully in the field, just as if he had never been there at all. But I knew I had been gifted with a rare glimpse into the past, and that the little lad would grow up to continue his search for knowledge of those who inhabit the aether and the astral planes, and delve deeply into the old and dangerous ways of magic. I couldn’t help wishing that he could have stayed on Pam’s hill in his little red boots and his tinfoil hat, but although I am gifted with spiritual insight, the best I can do is to capture his likeness for my Grand Ellessia Tarot. I do hope you like it.

Blessings,

Aisselle

Autumn Days…

The colder nights and mornings seem to have had the effect of slowing everything down. Even Jay, who usually rises with the Sun to tend to the animals, lingers beneath the duvet until Leon wakes at the end of our bed and stands, front paws on his chest, wanting to go out. We move about like a pair of fishes swimming though cold yogurt, dressed in our warmest pullovers, until Jay lights the little stove. It’s good to know that Tea has finished spinning the yarn from the goats and is busy knitting us all new ones. She has taken far longer than expected to complete the spinning, but she does seem to spend much of her time here drinking tea with Heth.

The appearance of the Sun over the little hill warms things up quickly though, and we soon feel our old youthful selves again. Yesterday I stopped to listen to a robin singing joyfully in a beautiful hawthorn tree covered in bright red berries, brilliant against the blue blue sky. I hope for the sake of the wild ones that does not mean the coming winter will be hard.


We have so much to be thankful for, Jay and I. To celebrate, I created a new card for my Grand Ellessia Tarot. It will serve to remind me to worry less and make the most of these Autumn days together in this lovely place with all the animals, wild and domestic, around us.

Blessings to you all,

Aisselle

A Difficult Balance

I have been trying to work out how best to work on balancing everything within my power, as I learned during my retreat that I must. It is hard to know where to begin. I do not follow what they call “the news” – I have no wireless, nor do I buy papers, which is where I understand that people learn about all the injustices in the world. I am not sure I want to learn about these things, but how can I work on righting wrongs if I do not know what the wrongs are. It is a hard path to tread.

I appealed to spirit and to Hermaphroditey, but they are silent. I pulled cards, endlessly, but no combination suggested a solution. I think perhaps I am trying to do too much. To take on a task that really is outside my abilities. With Hermaphroditey behind me I have always felt I was capable of anything, but suddenly I doubt my own powers. This frightens me more than the bad dreams ever did.

I wonder about another retreat – but the weather is colder now, and I fear that in any case it might cause me even more alarm. To calm my nerves I made a pot of chamomile tea, and when he smelled it, Jay came to join me. He is so wise. I told him of my fears and he said that I must stop worrying so much. Worrying, he said, is bad for the soul. Instead of worrying about what you cannot control, shift your energy to what you can do, he said.

I thought long and hard about this and suddenly the balancing that comes with temperance came to me, and I created another card for my deck. I hope you like it. Meanwhile, I must try to find a new way to approach the lessons of my retreat. I feel I must be approaching it all in the wrong way. But where is the right way ?

Oh dear. This is so hard. Everything was coming so easily to me before. Maybe the lesson I must learn is that it was too easy.

Yours in light and confusion,

Aisselle

On the King and Queen of Certificates…

You see before you the King of Certificates, high on his firebird throne. As you know, the firebird is both a bringer of doom and a blessing, which is fitting, as (like all the court cards), this king can represent a real person, and indeed he does. It may seem strange when I tell you how he came to be on this card. To this person I owe my very existence as an ethical tarot reader. For this is Alex, whose advertisement I noticed on ebay when looking for goats.

He was offering tarot certificates in return for eight pounds and an essay on various aspects of the tarot, including history and all sorts of other things. I sent off my carefully crafted essay with the eight pounds and awaited my lovely certificate with the greatest anticipation, but to my horror and dismay an email arrived refusing to certify me on the grounds that I was not ethical! I was distraught and went into a spiral of distraction. Goodness knows where I’d have ended up if Alex had not replied to my email begging him to reconsider his verdict with yet another refusal and an email detailing all the ethics that my essay seemed to have contravened.

Dear Reader, I went into retreat, taking this terrible list with me. The following weeks were spent sleeping in the orchard with the many goats and other animals at the old place, meditating and living on apples and goat’s milk. It was cold at night so I’d been snuggled up to Baphomet for warmth and smelled rather strongly of billy goat. I needed a bath and a cup of nettle tea so I came at last to the conclusion that I must abandon my old ways to the pit of doom and become ethical.

Back at the house, clean and refreshed, I set to work and made seven tinfoil hats. Then I created The Order of the Tin Foil Hat Ethical Tarot Certificate, and awarded it to myself. I began this, my very own blog, to connect to my clients and followers, and from that day I have never looked back.

Thank you Alex, you are truly the King of Certificates.

And here am I, Aisselle AT Gabegie, in my very finest tin foil hat, the Queen of Certificates in all her glory. (My thrysus may be very slightly bent, but notice how much larger and greater than Alex I appear.)

Blessings be upon your ethical kingly head, Alex, (wherever you may be), and please feel free to contact me if you’d like to become a member of the Ethical Order of the Tin Foil Hat and I’ll see what I can do.

Written in love and peace,

Aisselle

A Damp Homecoming

Well, my dears, I have had an interesting time. Sadly, latterly the weather was not as I had hoped, and my lovely dress is wet, and so am I. Soon I shall ask Heth if I can prevail upon him to allow me a hot bath in the farmhouse. Our caravan is usually all we need, but when I am so very cold and wet, I would really like to relax in hot water.
My retreat was not what I expected. It was difficult, to say the least. I think perhaps the need for it emanated from the reading I did for Rottweiler about Great Britain. I am not entirely sure what is happening about this hoarding of food he asked about. Why these people don’t live from the hedgerows as one can is hard to comprehend. There is so much to be found – berries, leaves, mushrooms and the occasional rabbit.

But it seems that I must pay more attention to the injustices of the world as it is today. To try and lead my followers to see the things that need to be done so that we can all live happily together, so that everything can be set in balance, as I am sure it was designed to be by Spirit. When I received this wisdom, I think I felt the touch of Hermaphroditey upon my shoulder (which still hurts from when Jay wakened me, perhaps the bath will help with that too.)
So – damp and enlightened, I came back to the caravan to find that Jay does not appear to be here. Perhaps he has gone to find me a special treat. He is so kind that way. Perhaps the blackberries are ripe.

In any event, I shall quickly take my chilled self to the farmhouse to throw myself upon Heth’s good nature. Meanwhile – as I sat thinking about everything and everything else (this really is so very hard and I hope it will not prove too much for my powers) I did come up with the Justice card, which symbolises all I must try to do. I hope you like it.
And I hope that you are all warm and dry, as I am not. Till later.

Blessings, Aisselle

Retreat

Last night another terrible dream. I have to discover what is causing them. It is very hard for Jay to be woken so often in the night by my writhing and shouting. I think I will not give details here – it is disturbing enough for me living through them and it seems unkind to expect you all, my dear friends, to live through them also.

But I have to take action. Hermaphroditey is silent just now – I think she must be waiting for me to do something  for my own self. But what? It is hard to think about this while I have my duties in the caravan, which is in any case very small, and I find it hard to empty my thoughts to let the spirit enter and advise me So today I decided – I shall go into retreat. The weather is clement, and it will be no hardship to take a blanket or two to the end of the orchard, and sleep among the rhubarb plants.

I imagine the wasps that flit around the fallen apples may present a small problem, but I am sure they will understand that I need to be alone. And as soon as this idea came to me, a new card followed on its heels. The Hermit. This shall be me, Aisselle T. Gabegie, for the next few days. A hermit in the orchard.

Blessings upon you, and think of me, dear ones. I need your help. I shall miss you, but what must be must be. Till whenever…

6 of Tinfoil Hats

A recent post on this, my very own blog, made me recall the day Jay and I and little Leon and Nu left the old place and took to the road. The caravan is small, and we had to leave almost everything behind and trust that George and Minet would take care of the old place and the creatures. It was a happy day, but I was apprehensive too, as you can see from the card, although when painting it I forgot that Leon was only a puppy at the time and have drawn him larger than life looking out of the little window at the back (he was standing on the bed). Nu, the lovely nanny who came along to give us milk, is sitting up front next to Jay, and Hermaphroditey was hovering in the aether just above the stove. Leon still seems to stay well away from her just as he did then.

As for the tinfoil hats, I tied them by string to hooks on the back and they’re flying behind us as we rattle along (it was a windy day). As soon as the old place was out of sight I went to sit up front with Jay and Nu but unfortunately by the time we came to a stop there was not a sign of them, only six lengths of dusty string trailing along the ground. Luckily I’d remembered to bring a roll of aluminium foil so I set to work and made some more.

The rain seems to have deserted us again, in spite of Jay’s invocation, but the grass is peeping green once more and the goats nibble merrily in the field.

I have been struggling to master the old spinning wheel, I have removed the dust and spider webs, given it oil and tried to work out its Old Way of working but have now retired hot and bothered with strands of mohair on my lovely blue gingham and fluff in my hair and nostrils. I think the only way forward may be though Spirit. I do not have a contact number for Tea, but she offered once to spin for us, so I will call on Hermaphroditey to work her magic and prompt Tea to read this post.

Tea, dear, if you’re reading this this please come and teach me to spin (although you cannot live here for reasons mentioned in an earlier post on Readings).

Love,

Till when,

Aisselle

The Weatherman

The Moon

I woke this morning at dawn to a strange clattering sound, and lay still for a moment wondering whatever it could be. I looked to see if Jay was awake so I could ask him, but on the pillow next to mine was a shaggy black and white head with a pointed nose and a glimpse of long canine teeth tips – Leon of course, who will creep into bed beside me if Jay is absent.

Fully awake now, it came to me that what I was hearing was rain – blessed rain to revive the poor dried up grass and the thirsty trees. I sent silent thanks to the old gods of the Earth and Sky. But what of Jay? Where could he be? Then I remembered that he’d been talking a lot on his mobile thing yesterday – something about getting himself ready and no guarantees – and I realised that he must have spent the dark hours invoking Ambisagrus, God of Wind, Rain and Hail.

Jay’s services as a weatherman are sometimes requested by those few who know of his talents, although he says he will never advertise, preferring a quiet life with yours truly and any animals that might be around. Well, it looks as though the invocation was successful, in spite of last night’s cloudy sky and no sight of the Moon.

Jay reappeared while I was having a delicious breakfast of raspberries, wild honey and goat’s milk yogurt, soaked, shivering and drained of life force only to retire to bed for the day without even a bite to eat. Leon will warm him up. He is such a hot dog and the best bedfellow ever on a cold night, although he kicks and twitches in his sleep almost as much as Jay.

So I spent this morning creating a new card for my very own deck, The Grand Ellessia Tarot of Aisselle Gabegie. The Moon may not have been visible last night, but I decided to put it in anyway as, after all, it was still there, as was the Sun, albeit on the other side of darkness. I do hope you like it, but if not, no matter as I’m very pleased with it.

Love and Rain to you all,

Till Soon,

Aisselle

Cool Goats

Hot again today. It seems to be normal and expected now – Hermaphroditey knows what will become of us when the deluge arrives, as it surely must.

But to get back to the hot goats. Jay had returned from the village with the fruit – two very ripe mangoes and some black grapes. I’d already picked a few blackberries and prepared myself for my mission of mercy. As an afterthought I attached a small bunch of grapes to my hair like the lady on the card (at least I think she’s wearing grapes, although they could be purple flowers, but no matter).

I hadn’t seen Heth for two days, so went to look for him. I found him in the garden at the back of the house, lying under an apple tree on a broken sun lounger in a pair of white Speedos. I couldn’t help noticing that he is almost as hairy as the Devil on the card – in fact the resemblance was even more striking than I expected, as the farmer’s tan (face, neck and forearms) not being present on those parts usually covered, was unable to protect the rest of his exposed skin, which had turned a painful shade of red.

‘What the Hell…?’ he muttered as I closed the gate behind me, taking care not to tip the fruit out of the bowl. I almost laughed at his expression when I told him I’d come to feed him fruit.
‘Fruit?’ he said, ‘What fruit?’ I held the bowl out so he could take what he fancied but he was still staring at my left nipple and didn’t seem to notice.

‘Listen, Heth,’ I said. ‘The lady on the card may have got down on her knees but that’s where I draw the line. I’m ethical now. We’re both keeping cool as best we can but those poor goats are suffering. Let me take the scissors to them or I’ll remove the spotty apron!’ (Jay had brought this back from the village with the fruit and insisted I wear it. He said he had to draw the line somewhere.)

A funny sort of look came into his eyes then, but my will was stronger and in a minute or so he looked away. ‘OK’, he said. ‘You’re a good goat lass and raspberry picker and I wouldn’t want to lose you. Two conditions though. Mind you just use the scissors, and don’t skin the beasts as they need a bit o’ protection from the sun and God knows it might turn cold agin the morrow.’ He was quiet for bit them and I waited. The silence went on so long that I began to wonder if I’d have to take off the spotty apron after all. At last he spoke.

‘I gave up with the shearing when the old girl died. She used to do all the spinning like, and weaving and knitting too. We only kept the few of em cos she liked to be busy and make warm kit for the winter. We niver sold the wool, see, she wouldn’t of liked that. So if you wants to cool the beasts you’ll ave to take up the spinning and knitting too. Annie’s old wheel’s in the barn but it needs a drop of oil I reckons.’

I thanked him and reversed out of the garden (the apron is a bit deficient in the rear area).

Jay and I set to work as soon as I got back, Jay with the scissors while I fed the creatures pieces of fruit to keep them calm. All MuMu’s lovely plaits have gone now, but she and the others seemed much happier and dashed away to the field as soon as the job was done. They’ll never know how the tarot helped to cool them down.

As for moi, I took off the spotty apron and got back into my blue gingham with much relief that things had gone so well. Then I made a feline for the barn.

Blessings,

Aisselle