Packing for the journey
What to pack?? My minds whirls briefly and then begins (from force of habit) the mental countdown of 'necessities', mercifully small after living on the back of a motorcycle for a month.
Clothes, comfortable, versatile, stain resistant; I'll wear my beloved first 'Hippy' skirt in such vital shades and a plain, short sleeved cotton shirt in faded black. I toss in a fuzzily warm sweater, closed shoes for rough terrain, and socks to go under them. There is a pair of comfy and sturdy jeans in a lovely barely worn prussian blue.
I hang my medicine bag around my neck as I am a-swirl in the scent of smudging sage. I tuck my favourite crystal, and my antique French Tarot deck, and my runes in a little gold figured velvet bag as I ask the support and protection of the Creator of Man and the Mother of Man.
There is a new journal/notebook, a sketch pad, basic pencils and charcoals with a kneaded rubber eraser. My camera, and extra photo cards wrapped securely in the jeans and sweater for protection.
Should I bring gifts? I already bring them, all I really have to give is myself. If that isn't enough, no material thing will do either.
Stop, take a cleansing breath, redolent with sage and the small bottles of herbal oils I take for small injuries, and relaxation if needed. Check the weight and balance of my pack. Although the pack itself is light, it is also heavy with anicipation and expectation. Last, but most certainly not last is my staff of seven-barks wood, engraved with the face of the Father of Man, a green suede handle and my secret Wiccan name engraved on it. across from the thong that goes around my wrist is the summoning rattle that found me.
The summoning rattle is seven times seven, seven strands of tiny wooden beads, with seven slivers of mother-of-pearl equally spaced around each strand. Thrice magical in form, and powerful in function conjoined with my staff.
Last but not least my books on herbalism, and wildfare, for foraging along the way, and adding to my stock of herbals. Who knows what magic lies in a tiny white flower? Or what may be needed along the way. Slip on my comfy, secure sandals, looking so Greco-Roman in style, settle my feather hat on my head and take another deep breath.
As I turn off the lights in my room and head out the door I 'chirtle' to Pye and Skye to join me on this adventure, my familiar and her brother fall in on either side, light blue eyes burning with excitement and curiosity.
And thus begins the jourmey...
Let the God and Goddess be with us on our way!!