It has never worried or irked me that all people's use herb lore, share herb lore, or tarot, the Jesus, crystal lore etc. I have always acknowledged a lineage of thought line, whether learned, DNA or accessed through spirit.

I have been fasting, turning off monkey mind and have found some interesting starting points, around my journeys through many cultures.

If those seeds of Mauri had not of been planted so many years ago, if those seeds of Lakota, Sioux, had not been planted, if those exercises of Tibet and India had not come together, with the original people's of Cairns, who gave me emu totem, without my European genealogy, I would not of walked the Vietnamese killing fields or been in Cambodia, clearing water ways and releasing confused and hurt children and I would not of recognised the place and time of prophecy.

I would not of had the songs to sing whilst walking the tree of life. I would not of known the rhythm to which my feet and stick should walk the Broad Highway of Dream World and this, united.

I guess this is the colonial danger of a woman of the Love All Tribe. Seeing the necessary boundaries of culture, knowing the mission is to love All people's. Greater, to see each child raised as treasure, knowing their connection to Earth, to Air, to Fire, to the Water, that is life and the Spirit that runs through them All.

Respect for all tribes is the Emu totem.

How I wanted them to be Cassowary eggs, upon my face. Rather close minded and stubborn than, hiding my head in the sand (yes an Ostrich, that's how little I knew). Emu sounded so plain, so boring, Cassowary were so beautiful, deadly.

Little did I know, that the Cassowary is an emu that has given away its bright plumage and overt aggression.

That the Emu flies the night sky, with its feet never leaving the ground.

I joked the paintings were Cassowary eggs and they were hatching on opening my mind. They were and they did. A long time was spent in heart, trying to get that head to expand in equal dimensions, transmuting a lot of fear. How could we do this? Be so presumptuous to believe that every life, from stone to person is sacred. That everything has a story. Everything.

So, not eggs but eyes, it took me a long time to see.
Respect for all tribes, stone tribes, air tribes, people tribes, respect.

If someone breaks your protocol, assume they come from a place of not knowing your ways. Correct, teach, allow that they have their ways too. Songs are made to be shared.
Unique parts of the whole make beautiful harmonies when singing together.

When I look around and see prophecy in action, and am asked, what did you do? I will say I grew a garden, of seed heirloom and those to be.

And I would say, if you want to feed Others, then you must have a garden too.

In peace, strength and love

 P.S.
Am still feeling in and around Ariki Pa, Starlore 2020. My head is still in the place of Other. (Probably a good time to come in for a reading ;) )
I made ceremony with Emu, came back and was gifted with,
"It is ok, just as you do not understand others ways, they do not understand yours. The important thing is to remain open and come from that place of love. Some things are universal. The stone people  know."
​

Much love,
​Juhl xx

I often wonder, when entering space, on the marks, that time leaves.
I walked into my office, now with mattress on the floor, as a young one is home. An extra layer or sprinkling of magick, of mermaids and floaty, flying things, with bohemian, hippy accents and flowery soft perfume, greeted me.

Gracefully jumping the mattress, I sent my, bits and bobs box, sailing, the draws closing as it tumbled. A timely reminder yes, but it was the way the layers of sage dust, cat fur, powdered frankincense and myrrh, just for  a moment, caught the light and fair folk were there, within vision. As the floaties hit the floor. They became dust. Something to be cleansed, cleaned and cleared. Got rid of, cast off.

Endings of dreams long ago, some fulfilled and others languishing, in the dustpan, with brush, afore the rubbish bag.

The big pieces of our layered lives, we pull out, examine and explore.  But the other stuff, the drifting skin cells, the ashes of yesterdays incense, we brush, we blow, we scrape away. Hoping our lives retain a patina, a polish of high sheen, that someday one shall  notice, think of and enjoy.

​The Devil is in the Details.

If you would like to book a reading you may find me here.

In peace, strength and love.
Juhl xx

​Divination I drew

A sign of things to start, yes, little did I realise how difficult things would get, as what I can only perceive as weather tech, came into battle with Will. I decided to use every hour of the grimoire bits I had, that I could, on rethinking "fire putting out" tech. 

I also watered the garden after every journey, ostensibly being a fireman and putting out fires. 
Chaos rocks the LARP
​
Jan 22 
Intuitively changed Facebook pic and profile ​

Posted. 
A rain intention is happening for Australia at 3:30 pm New Zealand time. 
Huon Valley in particular is in flames. 
Please pray for the beings of land and place. ​

Jan 28 Postings 

Tweet 
Went on the journey horrified to find out we were being defeated by HAARP 

Facebook 
Thank you to those who are helping with the bush fires in Tasmania. 
I had not realised when I asked, that there would be two harp stations directing our efforts away. 
I sat and watched the beams on the weather satellite last night. I was gutted. I'm so sorry to of had your time and energy wasted. 
But I do thank you for trying. 
Now to find another way. 
In peace, strength and love. 
 
Juhl is upset. All that prayer and energy on cooling and watering Tassie. The satellites are clearly showing harp beams, pushing cloud and rain away. Time for a rethink. Just as well I love puzzles. 
 
By now Townsville was in Big Trouble

Jan 28 
Posting 
Day of Mars hour of the Moon, Down Under. In 3.33 hours it shall be the hour of Mars. Time to Ask For Aid. St Agatha is still on spot fire duty, maniacally cackling with each one she pounces on, gee she hates fire, Who is left?  

A journeying I went. 

On the 30th the journey was answered by Austin Coppock and Gordon White. 


Jan 29 Facebook posted 

I have been working most of the night, in stealth dragon mode. (I poisoned myself here trying to work out how to take out a HAARP station energetically).
 
Posted 
At that stage. I must trust what I and others have done to be efficacious. I swear I feel rain in Tasmania. Love to All and to All a good night. 
 
There were always light touches of Misty fairy rain in Tasmania, just not enough for a good dampening down. 
The wind and temperature however were being held in check. Lol I’m sure a lot of cold air was imported from the States and England. 

Jan 30 
Watched Gordon’s show, two answers to both of my issues. I hadn’t been able to Get On Country, as I hadn’t been invited. So, I turned up before the local dead and opened my heart before them. They knew I was ‘staying with the troubles’ and allowed me in, once I had sung the fire song to Others. 
​
The second, of Aid, was answered by a name I can say but cannot spell, in a mass meditation, meeting a dragon, of different appearance to me, but who also disliked forest fires, to the point of anger.  ​

Feb 3 

By here the mass intention and women’s work or crafts were well under way. Kaitlin Coppock had water on maps. (Remember the first journey pic, the women being drawn in). Longed worked with beings from other lands were being asked advice and granting aid. It was extremely exciting to be among, watching Magick come alive.

My lighter wouldn't work, so I had to use pieces of paper off the element on the stove, ostensibly to light my candle, which kept going out at the door of the "office". Each piece of paper, became the forest fire, put out in the sink with ooddles of tap rain.  

Finally, after much love, effort, healing and new tech the rain arrived in Tasmania, and a 1000 year forest was given an break.  Perhaps even another lease on life, if lease is what it is. A lesson of old, existing among and alongside the young, each working to fulfill each others needs. unique parts creating a whole. Beautiful.

The effort was massive the coordination and variety of crafts on show amazing. When the Magickal community can come together and work things out, I see nothing but hope. 

An example, I got frustrated, upon reading the advice of another, I refused my beings offerings. Terrified also, as I did not have the promised offering to pay, for if it rained. I checked the lotto tickets and they paid for their own Rum! Now they are in the lap of luxury.  The dead definitely came to be.

St Agatha, was remembered by more people than ever, within the online communities I play in, which has really been hard going. I guess there is something about a sexually abused Saint, a female at that, that don’t float some boats. Get over it.  And thank you to those who saw her.

And about that new tech. 

Here is the clue, the elements are not just containers, they are pathways. 

I have had a play, thought I got one fire out, it sprang back to life, an hour later (which is another clue). I am missing an anchoring piece.  

 Final word, there are no 'secure' pathways. If you are working on behalf of Earth and her beings, consider every avenue infiltrated, by either dark beings, or AI, both on and off line. As such it makes no difference where or when you post. The only thing that makes a difference is getting off our butts, getting involved and actually 'doing' the work, you 'thought.. How much easier this would have been if the Beaming stations wanted Townsville dry and Tasmania wet? 

Keep the big in mind, but the Devil is in the details.

In peace, strength and love 
​
Juhl xx 

​,All through my life, all places I have grown. I have and have been around, Wylding.
A piece of land, left. No touching, no entering, no interference by family at all. If an animal wonders in, well, that is their choice. But no child, no Grand Ma and no me, permitted. Yes, thoughts count and should not be directed there either.

For me, in order to feel free, I have a space, a space within where I go to explore, lift, sometimes, entertain, thoughts very deep and to me fearful, but always private. It is my space though, and no hook, no thing, may enter. I am a Sovereign Soul. This space within, is in a way, my Wylding.

Within my yard. Off vision, you mightn't naturally find this area. O.k. so some of my friends might pick this spot, quickly. There is a place, where lawnmower is banned, roundup warded (actually whole property) and no one, may enter. This is my garden Wylding. I don't know if any one lives there. I don't pry, too much, as privacy, a place to breathe, to hang out and be, is a necessity for anyone, or thing, in surviving the stress of this world. I wonder if these places, the Wyldings, are not sometimes, places where beings too old to bear it any more, go to sleep. Sometimes forever.

As a child the Wylding, was magickal. No I never, shhhh, but in Kaiuma, between the house and the creek, where the creek forked, the Wylding, softly hid. Here, it was protected, by clever paths around, easier, better, more to see, shiny magpie things, that led around, rather than through. One never entered, for the wood here was strange, not that I would know. Finding ways between the dense wet ferns, flax and colonialism, perhaps, gorse, was icky and ouchy. And one would of had to squiggle and really wriggle, through prickles, woody manuka and wet and wetas. But if one were really in need of hiding, in need of a, can't be found space, then perhaps, one might enter. One might find other beings there too.

Around the home, at Grand Ma's Past the sheds, past the plum, the potatoes, turn, eat at the peas, skip on past the hedge, approach the walnuts and shh for here were the bees. Bees require a flight path, a way of leaving and returning home. so clever are these, so ouchy, one must be sure permission is asked, before one passes softly by. And there, between two hedges, guarded by bees, whom I never saw enter. Again, a Wylding. This one I never entered, it was still to close to home, one should never hide in the same place twice, if one truly does not wish to be found. And though more meadow and scented sweet than Kaiuma, this Grand Ma's Wylding existed through mans desire. Whereas Kaiuma existed because it was clever, most simply didn't see it.

My home now, New, only 1890's or so, much played with, surrounded by suburbia. Flown over by increasing air traffic, and seven years old, though pacts have been broke, two years rededicated. A beehive awaiting a Queen. No offerings, no noticing, no weedeating, no threat of poison, barely a glance, a Wylding.

In peace, strength and love
Juhl

"And so it was, there came a time. A time that was, and a time that was always before.
The  Dream World, the world of battles. The waking world, the realm, where battles, not fought, became real.
 
Many different the ways of then and now, still the battle truths remain. There were those who thought themselves, stealthy good Warders and Knights of the way, and  offering of esteem was granted these beings.
“Let me! Let me fight for you. I will dedicate my life, you will dedicate my upkeep, and the victories shall be ours.”  had been the subtle bargain.  Knights of the way had no time to plow, all energy on winning within the land of the dreams was spent. The Knights, powerful and the people at peace.

Gratitude and offering the response. For who would not let others fight their battles? Freed from responsibility of self, so much more could be done! The least of which, the offerings of gratitude, were surely /' a pleasure to pay.

Time moved on and the Knights of the way, so involved in their skill, taken care of by all, became lost, to that world of dreams. So well did they battle, behind closed eyes, nothing harmful became real. Within the waking world, peace reigned, joy flourished and the tributes flowed. The skill of the personal dream,  lost, in visions of safety.

None new learned the battle skills.  The enemy, the reason for dreaming, forgotten.

Yet, within the dream, shadows and lurkers,  gathered, their plans laid, learnt and studied long ago, improved upon, evolved. To few were the Knights to intercept, the soft subtle tendrils.  As soft as butter, defenses melted before the shadow mass, of darkness, wreathed with mares. To few, were the Dream Warriors, to stem the tide. No new to replace the lost. The awake realm still seeing peace, yet the world of the dream, was changing.

With stealth, grace, deadly rage in check, the Shadow horde creeping, advanced. Snatching, the odd unaware, to study. Tentacles probing, testing the sleeping awake, as they rested, without fear, without protection. The longer the waking slept without ward, the better. Who knew what would happen?

Should these sleepers awake, to the depths, the deceptions, of this dreaming?

Lines were spun, could be’s, should be’s and would be’s, yet, none of the lines were spun true. Long had the dream realm studied, and well did they know their tasks.
To live, one must be present, within the dream and awake and it was for this the shadows had practiced.  In the sleeping world of the awake, thoughts of false Knights were planted. The offerings, long forgotten, real reason forlorn, treasure for the Horde to use and plunder, battle tokens.
​
An inversion had begun, an invasion of twisting ways, so subtle in calling, the wake peoples under gentle (at first) control, became vassals. Enlivening  the dreams and plans, which the shadows, had cunningly hidden, in the awaken-eds  very midst, their minds. Yes, these beings were awakened, but they were no longer aware.

And so it was, the Shadow Hordes usurped the waken realm, creeping crawling through minds, bridging through sleep, into waking lives. Seeding, breeding, lines of not quite true.  Subtle was the advance, softly, softly least the untouched realise. Gently, beguilingly least the bridged, break free. The shadows arrived, made real, manifested.

If only an awake were to take back the dream, from before the Knight, when the awakened realm was aware and faced the battles in the dream, individually, self responsible, where would the realm be?

Ahh, but such dreams are confusing and nonsense.

A tide can not be turned back. Yet just as the wood fuels the fire, it is the charcoal that nourishes the earth. What grows in the bare land beneath the unused fire pit? Well, first come the quickest, then the fittest, seeds of course, you  may know them as weeds.  Yet, every now and then, we find a tree in this midst. A tree whose roots, reach outside the fireside, new shoots, beneath and through the scorched earth, nurtured and fed by the dying ‘weeds’ the tree  shall in turn overgrow. The weeds, are they sacrificial? Or are they giving? fulfilling their nature, to become nature, contained within the tree? Individuals united by place.

I wonder now, who is winning, within this realm, at this moment, the shadows, ever reaching realness? Perhaps, winning is a wrong perception. Perhaps the awake will once again step forth and true battles shall be hosted, where true lore made them be. Within the dream. The place where all bodily forms are equal, as only one energy is worn.

In peace, strength and love,

Juhl.

Well I am not where I wanted to be.
I can translate this from energetic to monetary terms, as a percentage. I am 6.5% out of alignment.
I become the age of a Mayan elder in 5 months, so I have a lot of work to do. I suspect it is my sense of community and peopling that is holding me back.

I am fearful.
I hurt others and am hurt,
I lack masks.
I'm coachable and willing to learn, but don't waste my time with bullshit that doesn't come from the heart or comes from a desire to justify a way of being, that does not do much but dislocate people from their spirit and the Spaceship we are care taking. Makes for a touch of tension ;)

I remember, think I have written on it before, about how I was punched in the face by the leader of a gang (we were ten) and unbeknownst to me, at that time, that was my initiation into the gang, who then went on to teach the awkward white stick, to move to any rhythm on the dance floor. Why? because I didn't nark. I ran into the bathroom crying, but I did not tell the adults or Police who were running the disco.

I got instant mates. So sweet ending to a weird episode. Yet it has coloured my perception of new groups of people ever since. There is always an initiation, an attempt to make one feel as if one belongs, sometimes coming in the guise of making one think they don't belong...can you hang in long enough? And there are always people who consider themselves leaders within the groups, like a self bestowed mana, of book learning, protocol or skin colour, but seldom because of heart and mind unity. Seldom are the leaders actually people choices. Like candidates in an election, you get to vote for the candidate presented, but you don't get to choose the candidate.
​
I didn't post as such yesterday, because I was at six hundred words and still hadn't suggested all of the thought streams I have around, tracing the blood. Not the genealogy of blood lines, but the where did the "Humans have always warred" come from? Why was that punch in the face considered a path to membership? How did violence become a systemic incorporated theme within our ways of being? And then I watched this...

And then I watched...I listened, I felt  600 words had already been said...and said by others, better. Ae tautoko

​I love Dark Moon 

​"Early morning yesterday, and I'm up before the dawn..."
Supertramp.

We all know certain scents, song lyrics and movies have the ability to store themselves within our brains, in such a way that connects them to moments of life outside of time.

Samsung now have a program you can watch that stops the formation of memory around a movie, so you can watch it over and over again, not realising you have seen it before...I kid you not. I wonder if I was a test model. My husband swears I'm a cheap date, as I can see a movie we have watched before with total non recollection. this inordinate ability transgresses boundaries as names have a very similar effect on me also...but not faces. Faces I remember.

So where does my consciousness go, when watching movies or being introduced to someone for the first time? The stress of my younger years and early working life, were such that it did not pay to remember names, in fact it was downright dangerous. The movies, well that's what some of the training was from and for, to remember different pieces, in different sections, within different streams of consciousness and pull them out from each section upon "command". There is no doubt that my responses were deliberately implanted, for reasons I know not. But how about yours?

We speak laughingly of triggers, polarity and programming, each set of code words, evoking different responses, provoking set behaviours feelings and emotions. We laughing talk of how a certain film or song brings back such and such a time or a feeling. We can see within our groups different words have different meanings attached to them, ascension, codes, light, to name but a few, one mans photon is another mans positivity. Yet do we ever stop to contemplate the how's and why's behind the word and group choices? We think we can see the agenda within certain ways of being, and perhaps the agenda behind that. But can we trace an agenda into a past before John Dee? Before what is now known as Empire?

I look at the contrived way in which indigenous Maori people had their culture taken apart, the way it is still being taken apart. I see how this has happened to every culture of "Top Down" ways. You know where the people or unity of the Tribe, comes before any single leader. And I see this splintering happening within our new tribes today. I understand the compunction to flow and feel good, yet how shall we ever have unity or consensus, if every time something hurts our soul, or goes against our ego, we move on? Some rifts can be healed. We have spent so long being inundated with the "going within" programs, our minds become lost to the one thing that may unite us, the one thing we cannot live without, this earth and her care.

So next time that song plays, those scents arise, that bring back memory from times long past, spare a thought for how that memory and those feelings were created, in streams of consciousness, the sounds or sights of the past, united again in the now. Those streams, that unity, that strength, these are models we can use. We can create now times, of scent, sight, sound and feeling in harmony with the earth, that transcend borders, tribes and agendas.

Maybe?
​
Much love

​Shamanism: Healing Ancestral Karma.
A Shaman, identifies illness as being in one of three categories.
Loss of Power-When we are born we are all gifted with spirit animals. As we grow these animals may change, and some may have more than one. Sometimes the spirit animal will live over 14 years. However, these spirit animals require playing with...or else they get bored and leave. I spend a lot of time with Angels and Gods, and had lost mine. Oops, who knew? A Shaman will help you journey to return your animal or find a new one. 
These Animal spirits are not to be confused with your Animal Power Guides.

Psychic Intrusion-This happens in one of two ways. Something may attach itself to the soul. A Shaman will excise and dispose of this entity (what is toxic to your soul may not be toxic to the sea or earth).
Or in an extreme and very rare happening, something may take over the vessel, the soul inhabits. Again the Shaman will remedy this.

​Soul loss- where the soul fragments, and must be returned to the owner.
This may happen from Trauma e.g. an accident . Think Post Traumatic Stress Response. (As Dr Farmer calls it, as stress is a natural bodily response, not a disorder.) 
A part of the soul may also be given away. This is usually noticed upon the break up of a relationship. Most can equate with the feelings of heartbreak. Perhaps you can get visitation rights lol...or your local Shaman can sort it out.