Copper And Corpses…

Given up by Mother Earth and lovingly shaped by Tethys, these nuggets of sea tumbled Copper are warm to the touch and blessed with various metaphysical benefits. Wearing Copper bracelets is well-known to be helpful in reducing the pain of arthritis and rheumatism.

It is connected to the sacral chakra and will help the body to heal and regenerate, whilst also stimulating your primal creative energy. Copper was present when the world was born – thus it will help you give birth to your own dreams and bring them into being. With this in mind, it is an excellent focus foe meditation, as it will take you back, deep within your own psyche to find and develop answers for your own spiritual growth.

Copper pictures courtesy of Lizian – thank you! x

As already mentioned, Copper is anti-inflammatory and soothing for aching muscles and it can also help to release creative frustration and emotional tension… Corpses by their very nature induce emotion… as mother to the Furry Four I am regularly presented with a variety of little corpses, from moths to birds, mainly through the generosity of Lily.

Ting caught a fly once and Tooty attempted to murder a pigeon, but my little princess Charlie has never caught and killed a thing… However, I accept my role as undertaker and dispose of these little ones with care, sending them on their way with love and a prayer. I have only ever seen one dead human body, my partner’s father, and I was struck by the sense of difference, of something no longer needed and left behind like an old coat…

I remember when I was a little girl and my beloved Snoopy made his final journey, my father buried him under the apple tree in our garden. A couple of years later, when I was still quite young, I was distraught to find that my mother’s dogs had exhumed my cat. Crying, I ran indoors screaming:

“Mummy! Mummy! The dogs have dug Snoopy up and they’re playing with him in the garden!”

I was devastated – my mother laughed… I can only ascribe this to her somewhat morbid sense of humour and the way I said it…

“Hey! I’m just sleeping!!”

My most recent encounter with a corpse came courtesy of Erin, who is normally the most ladylike and refined of dogs, with manners as impeccable as her pedigree. Whilst out walking the other day, she discovered a rotting frog corpse… and rolled in it. Thoroughly. I was too late too stop her. She stunk. Thoroughly.

Walking back, tiny bones smooshed into her fur and entrails hanging off her head, I lectured her:

“That is absolutely disgusting. What is so attractive about rancid amphibian? Chanel No.5 I could understand…”

As we entered my mother’s house she yelled:

“Oh my GOD! She stinks! What have you been DOING??”

I laughed….

Wonderfully atmospheric photo taken by Alex…

Pipes

The little girl sobbed in fright and sat up in her bed, as once again, the old pipes and plumbing of the house began to scream and whine. Her bed shook as the floorboards juddered, and, panicked, she called for her parents.

They arrived, tired and rumpled from their own room, and the little girl tried very hard not to cry as, for the umpteenth time, her father explained with exasperated kindness how it was just water moving through the pipes that made the house shake, that the pipes expanded and contracted in the heat of the day and the cool of the night.

Unconvinced, the little girl let herself be tucked back into bed and given her favourite teddy to hold. She drifted back into an uneasy sleep.

The days passed, the nights too, and the dark circles under the little girl’s eyes grew. Every night she lay awake and trembled in fright as the pipes howled and wailed their screaming demon song.

The blood pounded in her ears as she lay in bed, taking on the rhythm and depth of footsteps, troll footsteps, that thumped in her head till her heart hurt and she grew dizzy from not listening.

Till one night, she couldn’t bear it any longer. She pushed her warm duvet aside, leaving behind the comfort of her teddy, not even stopping to push her feet into her little pink fluffy slippers.

She crept out of her bedroom, and across the landing, avoiding the creaky floorboard that would alert her parents. She placed her palm against the bathroom door and pushed. It opened silently, obligingly, welcoming.

The tiles were very cold under her feet, and were faintly vibrating, or so it seemed. A tiny whistling, ghostly and ethereal, was issuing from the plughole of the washbasin. The little girl could just reach, if she stood on tiptoe, to pull the light cord that illuminated a tiny mirror over the basin. She caught a glimpse of her own pale, tired face and leaned forwards, a little further, over the basin.

The plughole gaped, threateningly and suddenly the whistling howl was louder. A lot louder and as the little girl leaned forwards, the plughole leered and yawned and gaped and –

Gone. Suddenly swallowed. The little girl was gone.

Her parents would never move from that house. Her father blamed himself, and her mother swore that she could her her little girl calling, lost, somewhere in the pipes.

Thank you to Samantha – great name – of Key Image, for the idea for this little story, after a conversation about plumbing… !

Sulphur And Spirits

Despite its associations with brimstone, fury and the Old Gentleman, sulphur is actually a very beneficial crystal. It is toxic so I must emphasise DO NOT make an elixir from it and ALWAYS wash your hands after handling it.

Not surprisingly, then, given some of its negative connotations, it can be used to help dissolve bad attachments and release stress. You can carry it around with you, provided it is in a sealed contained or wrapped up securely, to help with mental awareness and avoid people who would deceive you. It can help you get rid of fixed mental patterns and be more open to possibilities too …

At this time of year, as the seasons change, the veil between worlds is thin, and perhaps easier to see through and beyond…

As intelligent beings, I believe everybody should nurture an open mind and be prepared to recognise that things might not always be quite how they seem. Although I have only had a few spiritual experiences myself (the other worldly kind, not the alcoholic sort – had plenty of those) I do feel that everything that has happened in the world leaves an energy imprint behind and when you think of all the people who have gone before us and those still to come, it’s not surprising that sometimes these imprints can be felt.

Not those sorts of spirits Ting!

Possibly any potential haunters regard me as too short-sighted to be worth the effort of an appearance for a really good scare… I remember, though, when I was a little girl, the day after my Burmese made his last journey across the Rainbow Bridge, he came back for one last goodbye. I was lying in bed, totally heartsick and bereft, when I felt a sudden weight at my feet. I was actually a little frightened, as we had no other cats at that time, and then I felt what seemed like little paws, walking up the bed to his usual place at my side. One last “goodnight”? I hope so – I fell asleep shortly afterwards, a little comforted.

And then another, more recent appearance. I was in the kitchen cupboard, dragging out yet another pair of Alex’s trainers to be packed, when out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight – only for a second – of a well beloved grey tabby cat, with smart white shirt front and gleaming white paws. My Walter, forerunner to the present Furry Four and still sadly, achingly missed. It was the first time I’d seen him actually, since he went. I hope he’ll pop in again, make sure things are running smoothly…

So. There’s more than one meaning in the world of spirits… be of good spirits, my friends, don’t imbibe too many spirits and if you see spirits… just say hello from me!

Boots

All my life, I have been haunted by a scene, one particular scene, dream-like and yet so vivid I live it every single time, over and over again.

I’m tired, so very tired, aching to my bones. We’re marching, or walking rather; my eyes are fixed on the back of the man in front of me, the monotonous drag of his feet and slouch of his shoulders.

The straps of my pack are chafing my own shoulders and I hitch them up irritably, the rough green canvas scratchy against my fingers. My rifle is heavy and unwieldy, slung across the front of my body. I’ve had enough now,, how had I ever thought this could be an adventure.

The captain calls a halt, and we slump down gratefully for a minute’s breather and a gulp of lukewarm water from my canteen. I try to adjust my boots – the tough leather has rubbed the skin off in a red angry circle all around my the bottom of my shins.

The man – boy, really, next to me, coughs and spits, the road is dusty and relentless. Up again and onwards, the going’s better now, a country lane, dusty, still, yes but curving round to the left and there’s a farmhouse, yes, a little farmhouse and a yard we’ll be safe there can rest but there’s a shot –

                                                                  *

I woke up, sweating and cold in my own bed, my husband’s warm bulk, snoring gently, next to me.

I shrugged off the remnants of the dream, along with my sweaty pyjamas and got ready for work. Tense and headachy all day, legs sore with phantom blisters, I was only too ready to go to bed when I got home –

                                                                   *

I’m tired, so very tired, aching to my bones. My boots are chafing the skin around the bottom of my shins and it’s red and bleeding. These boots were shiny when we left, shiny and proud, now as cracked and as battered as I feel. How could I have ever thought this would be an adventure?

Sweating, tired, the straps of my pack are digging into my shoulders, and hitch them up irritably. I fix my eyes on the back of the man in front. Captain calls a halt and we slump down, exhausted. I reach for my canteen of water, a lukewarm mouthful and then drop sharply into sleep.

I wake sweating, and uncomfortable up again and onwards the going’s better now a country lane dusty yes there’s a farmhouse a little farmhouse and a yard we’ll be safe there can rest but there’s a shot –

Garnets And Gore

Living with four cats, I am accustomed to cleaning up a fair amount of gore, from shredded mouse corpses and the like. It is part of a feline’s nature to hunt and kill, although I must say Charlie has never killed anything. She may entertain murderous thoughts sometimes, I’m sure, but despite her tiger stripes, fierceness and occasional bad temper, she’s quite a gentle little cat.

Lily, on the other hand, definitely has a taste for gore… but then I suppose it takes all sorts. I am not remotely entertained by gory horror films – I feel certain franchises have just taken extreme violence and bloodshed to such a level it becomes almost comical and hard to believe.

Certainly, with my parents’ occupations, my mother a nurse and father a veterinary surgeon, I have seen and heard my fair share of gory stories. Indeed, it was tentatively hoped that I might perhaps follow in one of my parent’s career footsteps, but Fate (and phobias) dictated otherwise…

No. You can mop up your metaphorical gore with some nice paper napkins… for me, true horror lies in the unknown, the what-might-be’s and could-have-been’s, the psychological demons of Despair and Darkness – although I have shed tears of pain and horror as Lily has lashed out at Ting and me being a good cat mummy put my hand out to block the blow only to end up with a line of blood welling up across my wrist… like a row of tiny, dark red Garnets…

Garnet is actually quite a good crystal to have on hand in times of danger and stress. Its blood red colour imparts strength and determination to you to so you can deal with difficult situations, seeing them through to a positive conclusion.

Garnet is protective and grounding, and is also said to be able to warn of approaching danger. It will remove negative energy from all chakras, giving you self-confidence and insight.

So friends – when you look for horror and gore

Just remember

It isn’t always red in tooth or claw…