One Wicked Mind

From my Grimoire: 

Brigid, the Triple Goddess

Brigid, an ancient Celtic goddess, goes by many names: Bride, Bridey, Brighid, Brigit, Briggidda, Brigantia, Breo-Saighead. There are many pronunciations, but I use Breet. Brigid means “exalted one” and the most ancient Celtic name, Breo-Saighead, means “fiery power” or “fiery arrow”.

Brigid is said to be the daughter of the Dagda and was born at sunrise to the earth god with rays of sunshine or flame shooting out of her head into the universe. She is part of the Tuatha Dé Danann. As a baby it is said she drank the milk of a sacred cow. Brigid is one of the solar goddesses often depicted with rays coming from her head. It is said that Brigid invented “keening” as she mourned for her lost son Ruadan as he fell in the Battle of Moytura. 

Brigid is traditionally known as the triple goddess of healing and fertility, poetry and smithcraft, all practical applications that inspire wisdom, arts and crafts. Her main symbols are fire and water, two elements essential in each of her three specialties. 

As a goddess of healing and fertility she was concerned equally with humans, animals and vegetation. Wherever she walked flowers sprang up under her feet. It was an eternal springtime in her presence. Herds never ran dry of milk. As a healer she is associated with water and it was tradition to bring those sick and ailing to springs and water for healing. Associations include medicine, spiritual healing and fertility, midwifery, inner healing and vital energy. 

Brigid is the keeper and dispenser of information. She is the goddess of poets and artists. Known as the fire of the soul she is the goddess of self expression and she lends grace and inspiration to all creative endeavors. Associations include poetry, learning, divination, occult knowledge and prophecy. 

As the goddess of the forge, Brigid is known for her cauldron used for melting metals, she may even date back to pottery and it’s firing. As a smith she creates new and mends the broken. While she is generally known as the peaceful smith she can also be seen as the warrior forging spears and arrows. Associations include blacksmiths, goldsmiths, and housecrafts.  

Brigid’s feast Day is February 1st, Imbolc (i-MOLG). At this time, Brigid, or the bride makes herself present, ushering out the old crone of winter and letting the sunshine in. Imbolc was marked by the milk of the Ewes beginning to flow, marking growth and fertility. Imbolc was traditionally celebrated by making Brigid crosses to protect the hearth and home. During festivities she was often symbolized as a straw doll in a white dress with a crystal in the center of chest. Corn cakes were made from the first and last harvest and distributed between townsfolk. Brigid’s corn doll was carried by maidens dressed in white. Gifts of food were presented at a feast where young men were invited for the purpose of ritual mating to ensure new souls were brought into the world to replace those lost to the cold. 

ASSOCIATIONS: 

General - Fire, hearth, forge, harp, light, candles, sunrise, springs and wells, poetry, whistling, embroidery, arrows, bells, thresholds and doorways, sandstone rock formations like Stonehenge, Brigid’s cross, corn dolls, midwifery

Animals - Lambs and ewes, dairy cows, bees, owls, serpents, hibernating animals

Plants - Dandelions, snowdrops, crocus, trilliums, acorns and oak trees, corn, oats, sage, pumpkin seeds, heather, chamomile, blackberries, shamrock, rushes, straw and all field flowers

Scents - Heather, wisteria, violet, lavender, lemon verbena, and heliotrope

Crystals - amethyst, bloodstone, red garnets, moonstone, quartz, onyx, peridot, ruby, turquoise, and clear quartz

Colors - Red, White, Green, Gold, Blue

DEVOTIONALS TO BRIGID: 

Offer fresh baked bread with butter, honey, and/or blackberry Jam, oat cakes, milk, and blackberries.

Make and put a Brigid’s cross at your threshold to invite her healing, protective powers in. 

Write a poem, create a work of art.

Embroider, cross stitch, sew.

Set intentions.

Take a healing, cleansing bath. 

Accomplish spring cleaning.

Make a flower crown.

Do something with your hands and take your time focusing on your craft.

Make honey cakes, bake bread. 

Fix, cleanse, clean your tools.

Plant new growth.

Draw, dance, sing. 

Stand under the sun and meditate. 

Most State Farm agents, when they run into trouble, have to get the customer to do the jingle a second time. That guy with the buffalo was lucky.

The magic takes hold, and she materializes in the aisle of St. Peter’s Basilica, still holding the demon by the tail, in the middle of Sunday morning Mass. The music clatters unprofessionally to a halt as laypeople, deacons, priests, monks, nuns, and the Pope all turn their attention to the surprised demon whose fifth course of dinner has turned, unaccountably, into a visit to one of his least favorite places on Earth.

There is chanting in Latin, and vaguely cross-shaped gestures, and clouds of incense, and the demon vanishes in a puff of smoke, whether from the efforts of the clergy or of his own volition no one can say. The Agent doesn’t wait, fleeing towards the doors and escaping in the confusion.

She gains the exit and walks, purposefully, toward Rome proper; there, she ducks into the nearest alley. A burner cell phone comes out of one of the less-used pockets of her purse, and she dials a number from memory.

"Allstate," says a smooth masculine voice after three rings.

"State Farm," she answers. "I’m calling in a favor."

"Yeah?" Interest. "What sort?"

As she talks she’s pulling out her smartphone, keying an app that was activated by the summoning, and pulling up the policyholder data that enabled the incantation to work.

"Insurance fraud," she said, and can almost hear teeth sharpening on the other end of the line. She gives him the name, the address, the policy number. "Someone needs some mayhem."

"That’s my name," the man says.

She smiles. “Someone needs all the mayhem.”

He chuckles. Slow. Evil. Even with the echoes of demonic laughter ringing in her ears, she’s impressed. “Don’t worry,” he says, almost purring.

IT COMES BACK TO ME! *preens*

Part 2:

It’s not too long later—-State Farm will occasionally loan out their teleportation trick, though Heaven help anyone who tries to use it to compete with them—-and the man they call Mayhem is squatting next to a demonic circle with tacky half-dried blood under the leather soles of his shoes. Whoever dispelled the circle didn’t do a good job of it; the ring is still faintly smoldering and Mayhem has already singed his fingers on the air above it. He’s in the basement of a house with a State Farm homeowner’s policy, waiting for his partner in, erm, crime, to show up.

"Oh, good heavens." He smiles at the sound of someone hopping delicately back, then carefully tiptoeing through the mess. Demons are messy eaters, and Flo’s wearing all white.

She steps gingerly over what might be most of a femur, looks from circle to Mayhem to—-is that half a skull on the floor? “Freaky. Whaddaya need?”

"Tech," he says. "State Farm knows the homeowner summoned them, but the Agent reported at least five people present. Maybe six. She isn’t sure, what with being busy evading a demon inside a very small space with zappy walls."

Flo’s already got a—-where does she get those from anyway? a cardboard box in her hands. Mayhem watches as she unfolds it, refolds it, and ends up with something significantly bigger, shaped like a satellite dish. He tries to watch how she does it; they may be working together, but they’re still rivals and his own higher-ups will be very interested in the latest whatever-it-does that Progressive has come up with.

A blue glow lights up the concave side. Mayhem is pretty sure cardboard doesn’t work that way. Flo makes a pleased sound, and starts rattling off names, addresses, policy numbers.

Impressed, Mayhem asks, “How the fuck?” If Progressive is developing some sort of superspy technology, well, that’s kind of ominous.

Flo grins and looks embarrassed. “I, ah, have occasional dealings with a couple guys from That Other Insurance Company. One of them knows someone who knows someone who works in quality control for the Infernal Realms, and it turns out Hell monitors all their summoned manifestations for safety purposes. His contact got me the list of who was there.”

Mayhem nods. He’s had occasional encounters That Other Insurance Company himself. Bland, grey-suited, timid men who are even worse spies than they are insurance agents. “Wait, Hell has a quality control department?”

"And all other forms of administration," Flo says. "I understand it’s to generate maximum paperwork. It is a place of punishment, after all."

Mayhem actually winces. “That’s definitely hellish. All right. The Agent who called me in is flying back from Italy and should meet us in a few hours. Should give us plenty of time to plan an attack. Are they all State Farm customers?”

"Just the one," Flo replies, folding her toy up, and Mayhem watches with vague envy as it becomes a giant sword. "One Allstate, one Progressive, one Geico, two Farmers. We gonna invite anyone else to the party?" She hopes so. Mayhem’s precision strikes on any sort of insurance fraud perpetrators are the stuff of legend, and the Farmers guys would bring in enough absurdity to make it a work of art.

DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW HARD IT IS TO ?????

Posted on July 22, 2014 by Christian M. Lyons

1. You’re not anti-social, you’re selectively social. It’s not that you don’t like going out, it’s that you are very choosy about when, where, and for how long.