Tag: self

Keep Your Village, I Have My Witches

Before we start, I want to be honest. While kicking around the idea for this post in my head, the working title was “Keep Your Tribe, I Have My Witches”. It was a response to how the word “tribe” is used in popular culture.The more I thought about it the more uncomfortable I was with using that word. I don’t want to offend or insult anyone and I know the usage of that word does both. I don’t want to add to the appropriation.The word “village”, especially in connection with witchcraft lore, works just as well.

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Aristotle said, “Man is by nature a social animal”.  Our need for comradery and connectedness is genetic. We, as animals, need each other. But sometimes it’s not that easy. Connecting with others, especially the “wrong” type of others, hurts us more than it helps. Finding the right crowd, the right circle to surround yourself with is so very important. And one of the hardest things you will ever do.

While I pride myself on being a nice person, I am not gregarious by nature. Not only am I a homebody, I’m an introvert who struggles with social anxiety. Honestly, maybe I am a homebody because of those things. Either way, I am not a social creature.

I also am not a collector of people. I know people who pride themselves on collecting friendships, like dead butterflies pinned in shadow boxes. I am not like that. I don’t need a huge chorus of yes wo/men. I feel like this does two things. It either feeds into a cult of personality or it devalues the quality of the friendships. I don’t want a group of fans following me around, regurgitating everything I say. I’m not Jim Jones. I don’t need a fellowship.

What I have, and what I’m exceptionally grateful for, is this small little circle of people who love and cherish me the same way I love and cherish them. What this group lacks in numbers, they make up for in true honest emotion.

From a young age, I was taught by my mother that love comes with strings. Every relationship was a maze through spiderwebs of obligations. It wasn’t until I was in my twenties that I learned that friendship doesn’t come with prerequisites. You just love each other. You support each other. You want the best for each other. It is not a tit for tat set up. No one keeps score. You both strive to be the best you can be and help the other person when they can’t be.
I’m lucky enough to surround myself with magical ladies who inspire me constantly. These women are my support network, my therapist, my comedians, my teachers. They surround me with love and set my creativity on fire. It’s because of them I’ve dived into researching and truly living my Craft. From books to articles to tarot cards in the mail, they have helped me find my true self.

It’s also because of them and their belief in me, I’m writing again. Their support and never-ending cheerleading is a huge part of why this blog and my recent accomplishments have happened. With them at my side, I’ve been able to trust in my abilities and pursue something I’ve enjoyed since I was young.

So while you may have a village, I have my coven. And for me, a tight group of inspiring and motivated friends is all I need.

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Photo by Becca Tapert on Unsplash

Low Class Witchcraft

One of those most daunting things about my recent belief voyage is feeling slightly outclassed.  Witchcraft, Wicca, the Mystical and the Occult, often have a flair for the dramatic. Candles and robes, crystals and essential oils, sliver ceremonial tool. Just so much stuff!  The practical side of me keeps considering the cost associated with all this. And after reading the Modern Girl, Mystical World book, I was feeling a little too low class to take part.

Let that sink in for a minute. I was feeling like I couldn’t commit to what my soul was calling me to do because of my socio-economic status. My family’s situation is better than some and less than others. We don’t face fears that we will go homeless or even hungry. But we do have three children. And as we all know, kiddos are expensive.   Because of this and my upbringing in cotton mill generational poverty, I don’t feel comfortable spending money on myself when I know there are other needs that need to be met. I also don’t think MFMW made me feel any better. Sorry, I can’t go on retreats to find my OM. Sorry, I can’t drop hundreds of dollars on supplies to do rituals to put me in touch with my gods and goddesses and,more importantly, myself. Designer shoes and crystals? Yeah dude, that ain’t happening.

While reading Witch by Lisa Lister (side note: I’m going to reread this wonderful book and bring you guys a review soon. It was so good!) I realized those things don’t really matter.  I didn’t need certain items to strengthen what I believe.  All I needed to do is awaken what was buried somewhere deep inside of me. The ideas of the kitchen witch and the granny witch resonated with my soul.  It’s that practical everyday magic that I feel drawn to. So, it’s what I’m going to focus on.

I come from a long line of women who did what they could with the little they had. If you think feeding a gaggle of people on a pound of beans ain’t magic, you’re mistaken.  If you can’t see that magic in keeping the house warm when you’re out of cut wood, you’re blind. And that ability to chase off the nightmares with nothing but some loving words and a silver coin? Pure magic. That’s what is inside of me. That’s what I need to remember. Having pretty robes and shiny tools won’t make one bit of difference if I don’t follow the path my feet know.

 

There is no wrong way to be a witch.

I’m going to wake up the part of me that remembers how.

Wake up witch, we got magic to do.batborder

 

Changes…

 

So you’ve probably noticed a few changes around here.

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So what’s up with “Conjure” replacing “Legos”?

I feel like life is a little more than kid related. Don’t get me wrong, being a mom is something I take pretty seriously. It’s what I do. It’s my job. But, I’ve gotten to a point where I feel that it defines all of what I am. At some point a while back I stopped being Angela completely. I’m tired of that. And if I want that to change, I have to change it with myself first. And to do that, I have to nurture the parts of myself I want to grow.

The esoteric and arcane been something that I have been filled with for a very, very long time. If you’d like to read more about this, check out my post  Angela, Ascending here. My journey into finding and practicing my craft is important to me. I’ve neglected the song playing in my soul for too long. I need to listen and find my way back to it again. I might as well chronicle it here. 

This doesn’t mean that everything is going to turn into being about spirituality. There’s still going to be the normal bullshit. Its still a personal/lifestyle blog, so you’ll get to keep on hearing about my everyday adventures. My journey through domestica is one that I feel is worth sharing. There’s some sort of crazy magic in everyday life. I think that we often overlook it because we’re inundated with the desire for something extravagant. We’re always pushed to want something better or something new. I think you can be simple and fabulous at the same time. I think that finding the perfectness in everyday chaos is an important battle. I’d like to share mine.

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Also, Legos is a copyrighted term. Me and my dumb self never gave that any thought before. Lego building blocks are everywhere in our house. All four of my kiddos love them. So being surrounded by them I figured they would make a catchy title. And it did! At least to me. I hope to like make this blog legit one day, so looking ahead, it might be wise to pull the name out. Id like to spare me any sort of legal discourse. The previous posts, under the legosandcoffee name, are still available.

I also jazzed up the look of the blog. Sometimes you have to try a new color of lipstick to feel better.  Hopefull, it makes the blog more appealing. My long term goal, like I stated above, it to move this from a side gig (lets not shit ourselves, “an often forgotten gig” would be more accurate) to a major thing. I follow some awesome bloggers around the internet. Women that have inspired and challenged me. I’d like to jump into the big kids pool and see if I can swim. (Spoiler alert: I can’t. Water is my foe.)

I hope you enjoy the changes. I really dig them. I think this will help me to be more active and, hopefully, interesting.

Stay tuned.

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You see, what had happened was…

I fucking suck.

Here’s the deal. I always have these ideas in my head of things I want to do. But there’s this thing inside of my head that prevents me from doing things I like to do. I start and notice how much enjoyment they bring me and I get totally on board with them and then, BOOM. The feelings start. Like old friends that forget you until they need something, they show up. Suddenly, the my inner monologue is being delivered by my mother’s voice and I realize that I’m not good at what I’m doing. I realize that I’m taking time away from my motherly and wifely duties by doing my things. So, I bury a seed in the shame I cultivate inside and stop doing my thing to watch it bloom. Who would have guessed that seed grows into a Venus fly trap and tries to eat me whole?

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It’s a constant struggle. Most times, I give in and accept that I am not good enough to warrant doing anything. Why bother when I’ll just fail? Do you know how many things I’ve missed out on because of this? So fucking many.

Guys, I’ve got more issues than something that has a lot of issues. I’m a mess. But still, I try. And right now, I’m plucking those teeth from my skin and getting ready to try again. I need to focus on the things that set my soul on fire.  I need to focus on me.

A blog where I talk about myself sounds like a a good idea.

So let’s do this, again.

 

 

Day 8&9 In Your Bag/Worst Habit

Well, it happened,loves. It only took 8 days for it to, but it did.

I missed posting. But it was because I had a friend over and we spent most of the evening eating cheesecake and watching stand up on Netflix. So, under cheesecake consuming rules, I’m in the clear. No wrongs can be committed while eating cheesecake. Hashtag that  as Truth, cause its fucking gold.

Anyway, here are the contents of my bag, which if I can boast for a moment, I made myself. IMG_9046

So we got a baby sweater, some diapers, my wallet, a compact of powder which is sadly no longer with us because the wearer of that pretty pink sweater threw it across a parking lot.There’s also my keys, a book I picked up at an Asian Market in a language I can’t read, and some trash I should really throw away. Also, the fabric I made my bag out of glows in the dark. So that’s pretty cool.

Ok, now that we are caught up, here’s today’s post. My worst habits. In no particular order they include

  • Over apologizing for slights real and imagined
  • Giving up on my interest and actions to make time for other people.
  • Asking if someone is okay. Over and over and over.
  • Picking at zits, scratches, any sort of flesh imperfection.
  • Scratching. Excessively. Hello stress rashes, let’s get raw!
  • Tailgating. Speeding. Pretty much driving in general. I am a horrible driver. Horrible.
  • Saying “Goddamnit”. The kids say it now because of me. I’m a great influence.
  • Caffeine consumption. Give me Monster or give me death. And by that I mean, it probably will give me death.
  • Listing all the horrible things that could,would,should, might happen over and over in my head.
  • Making fucking list.

There you go. A laundry list of my bad habits and yesterday post about my purse. It’s an odd combo, for sure. I hope not to miss anymore days. The photography challenge I’m doing on Facebook is almost over. I’m pretty sad about that. It’s been a lot of fun. Maybe I will do another one just for this blog? Who knows. I probably should just finish this shit first. That would be a good idea. Can we add taking on too much to the list of bad habits?