Rain Falling Through an Ankh

Between 200 and 300 wing plumes would make 1kg

1000mg/250plume = 4 mg/plume, so I need my heart to be lighter than 4 grams. How hard that is, I do not know.

Like… it takes away my ability to talk about a lot of stuff, like realizing that I wasn’t okay with religion when I started reading the Bible from the beginning, got to the part where people with imperfect bodies can’t be priests, looked down at my disabled body and just went “oh. I’m hated here too. Okay”

Like, I get that rabbis debate it because interpreting the Law is their job! I get that for some of you that’s good enough!

But I don’t hate your ethnicity or your religion if I have a violent reaction to that and throw the book across the room or if that’s an especially horrible memory?

Like, the old testament is a part of christianity, and a part of how most christians experience christianity, and both ex christians and christians should be allowed to have whatever feelings they want about all the stories in there.

If someone’s talking about their feelings about the old testament then bringing up jewish people’s interpretations of the same stories is just derailing IMO. It’s not actually relevant to someone’s journey or feelings re: christianity unless they say it is.

like i get that they don’t think there is a sequel and that is fine

but i was taught all my life that there is, and that the things that happen in it are responses to book 1

so it’s not at all odd that i might react to book 1 differently from you, and it’s okay (good, even) for you to point this out

I really feel like there’s a niche out there for a sect of some mainstream religion to go “trans women are totally real women, come join us and we’ll let you wear long skirts and participate in trad feminity.”

@silver-and-ivory don’t a lot of strains of Islam officially say that trans women count as women?

Also, while I’m on board with wearing long skirts, being barefoot and pregnant, and perhaps even being a stay at home mom (not that this option is practically available to me thanks to insane rents), I still reserve my right to be polyamorous, bisexual, and slutty, to want multiple spouses of different genders, to engage in gender-neutral upbringing, and to say “no” to anyone, men included. That doesn’t bode well with joining trad circles, so the only option I have is to culturally appropriate their stuff.

and although, even without that,  there’s a thing that if you aren’t getting married a lot of that stuff just doesn’t matter.  like it won’t work for everyone but there’s this neat little out that if you are willing to not have much to do with sex by their definition, you can be pretty much as much of a weirdo as you want.

It positions religion as the human default, from which you are excused only if you’re sufficiently damaged. Like “I guess it’s okay if you’re shipping to cope” – if it’s just a consolation prize for being broken and pitiable, it’s not really okay at all. It’s okay if you can’t be religious because of trauma, but always remember that this is a personal flaw, a result of your damage, and that *healthy people* are religious.

I’m an atheist because when I think about the question of whether gods are beings or stories, my answer is consistently that I think they’re most likely cool stories.

Like, I try to tell myself “think they’re not stories for an hour or two, just to understand people better!” And my brain goes “but I’m pretty sure they’re stories…?”

I know people find this insulting, and I think I get why, but honestly… I’m in fandoms, and those fandoms have literally saved my life. “Megatron is fictional” and “Megatron is unimportant” have different truth values to me. So me thinking your god is probably a story too actually isn’t me thinking “your god shouldn’t matter to you.”

I get that it’s something you still might not like! And that’s okay!

Do you realize how offensive that is to them?

He invited me to sit among the roses, each a brilliant and bright pink. Carefully I did, avoiding sharp thorns and fallen petals. Death offered me a drink of hot tea and I accepted, knowing better than to deny a god.

He was black against the background of roses, a monochrome spot among a world of color. I could not see His eyes, though I guessed Him to not have any in the way we do. It was not until I drank a bit of the tea that He finally spoke in a voice like fluttering moth wings and falling leaves.

“What color is life to you?” He asked, honestly curious.

I set down my tea and stared into it. The liquid was a deep, dark red. “Bright red.” I decided.

“Like blood?”

I shook my head. “No, that’s too dark. Red like a woodpecker’s crest. Red like a satin ribbon around a cat’s neck. It is a color so vibrant that it must be alive.”

Death was quiet for a moment as He thought over my words. I took another sip and found the tea to taste of roses and raspberries, a taste it had previously lacked. He then nodded once and said, “I see life as soft pinks and gentle greens. It is the pink blanket one might wrap a child in. It is the green stem that supports the plant. Life is painted in delicate colors. They are beautiful, though I fear to touch them.”

The cup never emptied as I drank from it, though the taste shifted and changed from sweet to bitter to something I could not place. The color remained red. “May I ask a question?” I asked Him.

Death seemed pleased at my request and He waved a hand for me to speak.

“What color is death?”

A great wind swept through the rose patch, sending soft, pink petals flying around us. They landed in my hair and in my cup and gently touched my face. Not a single petal landed on Death, instead falling to rest around Him.

He smiled at me and said, “Death is many colors. Sometimes it is black. Other times it is blue. To some it is blinding white. There are times it is even red. I’ve seen every color and more in death. But do you know what death’s core color is? The color that is at the heart of every death?”

“I don’t,” I told Him honestly.

Hatmehyt, Foremost of Fish

Hi! How are all of you doing?

Today’s drawing is goddess Hatmehyt for @djar-em-rekh

PLANTS ARE NOT CORRESPONDENCES EITHER.

Plants have spirits. They have personalities. They are capable of working a magic all their own.

If you want to understand the plants you use in your craft better, grow ‘em. Find ‘em in nature. If you can’t do either because they’re not part of your local biosphere, sit down with the dried pieces of plant matter or resin or whatever and commune with them.

Talk to your plants. Tell them what you want when you work with them. If you’re growing them, talk as you water them and tend to them.

As witches, we must be defenders of those who can not speak. If we are in this for our own gain, rather than for the mutual benefit of the spirits we traffic with, then what is the point? If we let the Land die, and continue to use the power of the spirits tied to that Land, then we are no better than the oppressors we wish to be freed from.

If a government is in power that wishes to destroy the homes of our spirit kin, then that government must be held accountable, and either change or be removed.

Rise up, witches. The Goddess calls to your soul, and They will not let you know either rest nor peace until ALL are free.

DEITIES Project Tumblr / Twitter / Instagram >> Support DEITIES Project on Patreon! <<

So the other day I had sketched these ideas for Pride month, and decided to finish them up as a small tribute from DEITIES Project.

I’ve gotten multiple questions about the deities’ identities on the blog, and truthfully I’ve only settled on a few headcanons, while most remain up for interpretation. But I’ve realized it’d be good to share some more – a few that I’ve already confirmed, and some that may be new for the blog.