hi! I'm hawke, i'm 24 and have been a pagan and a witch since 2016!
i am a persephone devotee and i mostly work with her and hades, but occasionally other greek deities are part of my practice. i am primarily hellenic in my practice, but i am learning more about ukranian folk magic to connect w that part of my family.
i'd appreciate if minors didn't follow me. i don't have any problems with you, but i'm just not interested in any interactions w a minor
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It was a Tuesday in 1981 when the San Francisco police kicked in the door.
Inside the small apartment, they expected to find a hardened criminal. They expected a drug kingpin. They expected resistance.
Instead, they found a 57-year-old waitress in an apron.
The air in the apartment smelled sweet, thick with chocolate and something earthier. On the kitchen counter, cooling on wire racks, were 54 dozen brownies.
The police officers began bagging the evidence. They confiscated nearly 18 pounds of marijuana. They handcuffed the woman, whose name was Mary Jane Rathbun.
She didn't look scared. She didn't look guilty.
She looked at the officers, smoothed her apron, and reportedly said, "I thought you guys were coming."
She was booked into the county jail. The headlines wrote themselves. A grandmother running a pot bakery. It seemed like a joke to the legal system, a quirky local news story about an older woman behaving badly.
But Mary wasn't baking for fun. And she certainly wasn't baking for profit.
To understand why Mary risked her freedom, you have to understand the silence of the early 1980s.
San Francisco was gripping the edge of a cliff. A mysterious illness was sweeping through the city, specifically targeting young men. Later, the world would know it as AIDS. But in those early days, it was just a death sentence that no one wanted to talk about.
Families were disowning their sons. Landlords were evicting tenants. Even doctors and nurses, paralyzed by the fear of the unknown, would sometimes leave food trays outside hospital doors, afraid to breathe the same air as their patients.
Men in their twenties were wasting away in sterile rooms, dying alone.
Mary knew what it felt like to lose a child.
Years earlier, in 1974, her daughter Peggy had been killed in a car accident. Peggy was only 22. The loss had hollowed Mary out, leaving a space in her heart that nothing seemed to fill.
When the judge sentenced Mary for that first arrest, he ordered her to perform 500 hours of community service. He likely thought the manual labor would teach her a lesson.
He sent her to the Shanti Project and San Francisco General Hospital.
It was a mistake that would change American history.
Mary walked into the AIDS wards when others were walking out. She didn't wear a hazmat suit. She didn't hold her breath. She saw rows of young men who looked like ghosts—skeletal, in pain, and terrified.
She saw "her kids."
She began mopping floors and changing sheets. But soon, she noticed something the doctors were missing. The harsh medications the men were taking caused violent nausea. They couldn't eat. They were starving to death as much as they were dying of the virus.
Mary knew a secret about the brownies she had been arrested for.
She knew they settled the stomach. She knew they brought back the appetite. She knew they could help a dying man sleep for a few hours without pain.
So, she made a choice.
She went back to her kitchen. She fired up the oven. She started mixing batter, not to sell, but to save.
Every morning, Mary would bake. She lived on a fixed income, surviving on Social Security checks that barely covered her rent. Yet, she spent nearly every dime on flour, sugar, and butter.
The most expensive ingredient—the cannabis—was donated. Local growers heard what she was doing. They began dropping off pounds of product at her door, free of charge.
She packed the brownies into a basket and took the bus to the hospital.
She walked room to room. She sat by the bedsides of men who hadn't seen their own mothers in years. She held their hands. She told them jokes. And she gave them brownies.
"Here, baby," she would say. "Eat this. It'll help."
And it did.
Nurses watched in amazement as patients who hadn't eaten in days began to ask for food. The constant retching stopped. The mood on the ward shifted from despair to a quiet sort of comfort.
Mary Jane Rathbun became "Brownie Mary."
For over a decade, this was her life. She baked roughly 600 brownies a day. She went through 50 pounds of flour a week. She became the mother to a generation of lost boys.
She washed their pajamas. She attended their funerals. She held them while they took their last breaths.
She did this while the government declared a "War on Drugs."
By the early 1990s, the political climate was hostile. Politicians were competing to see who could be "tougher" on crime. Mandatory minimum sentences were locking people away for decades.
In 1992, at the age of 70, Mary was arrested again.
This time, the stakes were lethal. She was charged with felonies. The district attorney looked at her rap sheet and saw a repeat offender. He threatened to send her to prison.
One prosecutor famously whispered to a colleague that he was going to "kick this old lady's ass."
They underestimated who they were dealing with.
They thought they were prosecuting a drug dealer. In reality, they were attacking the most beloved woman in San Francisco.
When the news broke that Brownie Mary was facing prison, the city erupted.
It wasn't just the activists who were angry. It was the doctors. It was the nurses. It was the parents who had watched Mary care for their dying sons when the government did nothing.
Mary turned her trial into a pulpit.
She arrived at court not as a defendant, but as a grandmother standing her ground. The media swarmed her. Reporters asked if she was afraid of prison. They asked if she would stop baking if they let her go.
Mary looked into the cameras, her voice gravelly and firm.
"If the narcs think I'm gonna stop baking brownies for my kids with AIDS," she said, "they can go fuck themselves in Macy's window."
The quote ran in newspapers across the country.
The court didn't stand a chance.
Testimony poured in. Doctors from San Francisco General Hospital wrote letters explaining that Mary’s brownies were medically necessary. Patients testified that she was an angel of mercy.
The charges were dropped.
Mary walked out of the courthouse a free woman. But she didn't go home to rest. She realized that her personal victory wasn't enough. As long as the law was broken, her "kids" were still in danger.
She needed to change the law.
August 25 was declared "Brownie Mary Day" by the San Francisco Board of Supervisors. It was a nice gesture, but Mary wanted policy, not plaques.
She teamed up with fellow activist Dennis Peron. Together, they opened the San Francisco Cannabis Buyers Club—the first public dispensary in the United States. It was a safe haven where patients could get their medicine without fear of arrest.
But Mary wanted more. She wanted the state of California to acknowledge the truth.
She campaigned for Proposition 215. She traveled the state, despite her failing health. She spoke in her simple, direct way. She didn't talk about liberties or economics. She talked about compassion. She talked about pain.
She forced voters to look at the issue through the eyes of a grandmother.
In 1996, Proposition 215 passed. California became the first state to legalize medical marijuana.
It was a domino effect. Because one woman refused to let her "kids" suffer, the public perception of cannabis shifted. The Economist later noted that Mary was single-handedly responsible for changing the national conversation.
She never got rich.
She had always joked that if legalization ever happened, she would sell her recipe to Betty Crocker and buy a Victorian house for her patients to live in.
She never sold the recipe. She never bought the house.
Mary Jane Rathbun died in 1999, at the age of 77. She passed away in a nursing home, poor in money but rich in legacy.
Today, over 30 states have legalized medical marijuana. Millions of people use it to manage pain, seizures, and nausea.
Most of them have never heard of Mary.
They don't know that their legal prescription exists because a waitress in San Francisco decided that the law was wrong and her heart was right.
They don't know about the 600 brownies a day.
They don't know about the thousands of hospital visits.
Mary didn't set out to be a hero. She told the Chicago Tribune years before she died, "I didn't go into this thinking I would be a hero."
She was just a mother who had lost her daughter, trying to help boys who had lost their way.
She proved that authority doesn't always equal morality.
She proved that sometimes, the most patriotic thing a citizen can do is break a bad law.
Every August, a few people in San Francisco still celebrate Brownie Mary Day. But her true memorial isn't a date on a calendar.
It is found in every oncology ward where a patient finds relief. It is found in every dispensary door that opens without fear.
It is found in the simple, quiet courage of anyone who sees suffering and refuses to look away.
Mary taught us that you don't need a law degree to change the world. You don't need millions of dollars. You don't need political office.
Sometimes, all you need is a mixing bowl, an oven, and enough love to tell the world to get out of your way.
Sources: New York Times Obituary (1999), "Brownie Mary" Rathbun. San Francisco Chronicle Archives (1992, 1996). History.com, "The History of Medical Marijuana." Weird Everything, FB december 12, 2025
[Image description: Screenshot that reads: St. Julian the Hospitaller is the patron saint of clowns and circus workers, innkeepers, fiddle players, jugglers, childless people, and murderers. End description.]
i like sailing myths and superstitions because most of them can be boiled down to "if the ocean doesn't like you it will chew you up and spit out your bones. and if it really loves you it will swallow you whole and keep you forever. good luck 👍"
Project Relief: Run By Immigrants, Fighting For Immigrants
Due to the uptick of ICE activity across Maine, let's shine a spotlight on organizations serving the community there and make known ways anyone anywhere can help, starting with Project Relief.
Project Relief is a Black immigrant-led mutual aid and racial justice collective based in Maine. Since 2019, we’ve been on the frontlines defending immigrant families from ICE, providing emergency food and shelter, and funding legal support for those detained.
We are not a charity. We are a community of immigrants and allies building power together because no one should face deportation, hunger, or homelessness alone.
This is where support of Project Relief goes:
Providing Legal Support & ICE Defense: 'When a community member is detained by ICE, we act fast. We use mutual aid funds to pay for immigration lawyers, cover legal fees, and support families through every step of the process. No one faces deportation alone.'
Providing Emergency Shelter & Housing: 'Safe housing is a human right. We’ve provided homes for dozens of individuals and families, especially women and children, who were at risk of homelessness or displacement.'
Providing Mutual Aid & Community Defense: 'We are immigrants helping immigrants. Our network mobilizes during ICE raids, advocates for policy change, and takes to the streets in solidarity with those targeted by systemic racism.'
"When institutions fail, community steps in.
Every act of giving — every dollar, every meal, every bed — comes directly from people who care. That’s what makes Project Relief different: we are powered by the people we serve."
Learn More About Project Relief // DONATE Now // Please share & let people know about Project Relief.
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This is your reminder that if you are feeling helpless and cannot be on the front lines, there are other ways to help.
People need to be fed. Check to see what your local food pantry situation is. Make hot meals for people you know have been out in the cold for hours on end. Emergency kits for field medics need to be supplied. People need help getting to the pharmacy, the grocery store. Help shovel your neighbor’s sidewalk if you’re able. Find a way to do something.
Build connections. Build community. They want us frightened and isolated. Refuse.
Apply the Four Universal Laws of Gun Safety to your magical practice and you'll be golden.
Always assume all guns are loaded. For some reason I will never fully understand, a lot of people do baneful magic under the assumption it isn't actually going to work. When you're doing baneful magic, you need to assume that it will work, and that it will work devastatingly, to its fullest capacity.
Don't point your gun at someone you aren't prepared to kill. Don't do any magic if you aren't prepared for it to do exactly what you asked it to do. If you cast a spell with the potential to kill someone, you have to be prepared for it to do that. If you cast a spell that could destroy someone's family, you need to be prepared for it to destroy the family in any way the magic sees fit. If you aren't ready for that, don't fucking do it. When I made a poppet of some fucker who attacked my goddaughter, and started breaking its bones, I was fully prepared to actually break his bones. When he ended up in the ER for an injury on the same limb I had just broken, I accepted that as the consequences of my actions. If you don't know how to set and enforce parameters on a spell, don't use a spell that can do things you aren't ready for.
Keep your finger off the trigger until your target is lined up and you have made the decision to shoot. Don't just be flinging shit out into the universe. Don't send out a spell until you have fully laid out what it will do, what you won't allow it to do, the consequences, the sacrifice, and everything else. Don't cast that spell until you are fully confident in your informed decision.
Always be sure of your target, and know what is around and behind it. Make sure you're going after the right person. Make sure you're aware of all of the various ways that this spell can impact the people around that person. Make sure you can accept those consequences. Make sure you can deal with any magical repercussions for your spell.
If you're in the US, now is a great time to talk to the young people in your life about the US military:
The recruiter is not your friend. The military employs child psychologists to learn how to make you think the recruiter is your friend.
The recruiter is allowed to lie to you and makes more money if they do.
The recruiter is paid a commission to groom children into cannon fodder.
The recruiter will tell you you're special and will go into special smart soldier programs instead of combat. They're lying.
The recruiter may tell you they can tell if someone can get PTSD or not and only recruit people like you, who won't. They're lying.
The recruiter may tell you you'll be too busy attending free college (!!) to go overseas. They're lying.
The recruiter may ask what countries you want to travel to and promise you bougie placements on military bases in those countries. They're lying.
Even "It's just four years!" is a lie - the government is allowed to hold you past your enlistment period with a stop-loss order.
The recruiter actually has zero power to decide anything that happens to you after you enlist and they more importantly don't care what happens to you.
If you enlist, you will be brainwashed to make you willing to do things to other humans that you would never be willing to do today.
You will be ordered to do things that will kill children. And you'll do them.
The military is not the only way or even the best way for you to go to college or start a career.
Military brainwashing will actually make you into a terrible university student because it degrades your ability to think critically and question your sources.
Having PTSD and/or a TBI will make it harder to be a student and keep a job.
Veterans' benefits suck these days.
Being a veteran drastically increases your risk of homelessness, suicide, alcohol and drug dependence, prison time, and becoming an abuser to your loved ones.
The military will expose you to chemicals that will drastically increase your chances of developing cancer.
The military will withhold information about your rights to conscientiously object after enlisting.
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So, you know how certain Christian missionaries are trained to act in a very obnoxious way, so that most people they preach to will reject them outright, so they feel like the world hates them for being Christian and they can only be friends with fellow Christians? You know that thing?
I think as activists, we sometimes need to stop and ask ourselves whether we're acting like those missionaries. I think this type of behavior is a little more ingrained into our society than some of us realize, and some of us have internalized it without realizing what it's actually meant to do.
OP I know that this is probably a different direction than you were going, but genuinely this advice would do so so much to help people not fall into secular political cults.
A lot of high control groups use this tactic to isolate their members. It’s absolutely not just evangelizing Christians. New age wellness cults often encourage their members to make outlandish and offensive accusations regarding the mental and physical health of other people or their children, because they know that the backlash their members receive will reinforce the idea that the “mainstream” simply has no room for people who like crystals and essential oils. White supremacist cults will seed the vocabulary of new recruits with Nazi dog whistles that fly over those recruits heads, specifically so that they will get clocked as possible neo-Nazis and shunned by anyone who might offer them another perspective and help them to get out before it’s too late. And a lot of left-leaning political cults strongly encourage members to share their views in the most inflammatory ways possible, and then say “you see? everyone outside of this small circle is evil and cannot be relied on” when, inevitably, that produces bad results.
Sometimes I think that activists fall into these patterns completely accidentally, either because they were raised in culturally Christian evangelical environments and never unpacked it, or else because they just aren’t any good at approaching things in a non-inflammatory way and no one’s shown them how.
…But sometimes, these structures emerge in activist circles because those circles are legitimately becoming high control groups.
I think some things to watch out for especially in this regard are:
Are you being directed to behave in an extremely hostile and alienating way? (even if it’s by someone who you trust!)
Does the group you are in immediately shut down any conversation about the effectiveness of an antagonistic strategy? In particular, do they shut that conversation down using in-group stock phrases?
Is experiencing harsh rejection seen as something of a rite of passage?
Do you receive more validation from the group you are in after you have been rejected by someone outside the group than at any other time?
Have you ever been concerned that the antagonistic strategy you are using hurt someone you cared about, only to be quickly advised by members of the group that that person was toxic and that you should actually completely cut them out of your life?
These to me are all pretty significant red flags about the group in question, whatever the specific thing that brings people together there is. If you start noticing them in a group that you are a part of, be that an in-person activist circle or a Discord server or anything in between, take a step back and seriously consider the possibility that the good thing that you joined is turning into something different, and possibly dangerous.
In the words of Jonestown survivor Deborah Layton, “Nobody joins a cult. You join a self-help group, a religious movement, a political organization. They change so gradually, by the time you realize you’re entrapped – and almost everybody does – you can’t figure a safe way back out.”
[Alt Text for Screen Readers: A Spell for Clear Memory]
Request: [by @pomegranatebones] A simple spell that can be used for forgetfulness or to help with the retention of certain habits. and small events. Easy to perform with limited tools and components, and able to be done in the moment throughout the day. The request is for a spell that can be used in real time immediately after an act or event occurs that they want to remember, but I have also included an adaptation for planned use to promote generally better memory and mental clarity. Please note that this is not intended as a replacement for any medical or therapeutic advice.
Version One - Real Time Memory Charm to Commit Specific Things to Memory: After doing or seeing something that you wish to commit to memory, tap the forehand or temple with the index finger of your dominant hand, saying:
Memory, find yourself.
Thought, unwind yourself.
Come back clear. Come back true.
By what I know, and what I knew.
Version Two - A Charm Bag for General Improved Memory & Clarity: Acquire a square of blue cloth from your own clothing or bedding. On it, write or stitch the words "memory" and "thought". Place a black feather (any black feather that is legal to have in your area, a feather dyed black, a depiction of a black feather, etc. are all suitable), a forget-me-not, and a piece of ash wood.
Say the cham aloud as you bind or sew the charm bag shut, making sure that your breath flows over the charm as you do.
Memory, find yourself.
Thought, unwind yourself.
Fly back to me from scattered parts.
By plume and petal, wood and bark.
Once bound and completed, this can be carried with you or kept in a place associated with mental efforts (work desk, with study materials, etc.).
Adaptation & Symbolism Notes: 1. The words "thought" and "memory" written or stitched into the charm can be replaced with the names of Huginn and Muninn. It can also be replace with the name(s) of any gods, saints or figures that you associate with memory and thought. 2. The black feather is included because its association with Huginn and Munnin as well as the raven's association with wisdom and hidden knowledge. If you do not hold this association, it can be replaced. 3. The ash wood is included because of its association with Óðinn and with quests for knowledge. If you do not hold this association it can be replaced. 3. The spoken charm here is adapted to fit the components used in the charm bag, if you make modifications, you can adapt it yourself or use the spoken charm from Version One.
i acknowledge that it sucks being part of a minority religion and all but until there is a universal pagan identity that is at actual serious risk of being banned or systematically persecuted like, say, muslims in the west are, maybe we should all put the big words down. pagans are not a monolith, and pagans are not universally oppressed. we have it great out here
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As is tradition in tumblr culture the locals unearth the corpse of a long deceased figure and drag it across the streets merrily, laughing at what is preserved of the person’s words. This custom, seen as morbid in other cultures, is instead done gleefully and with an unmatched enthusiasm