kimberlysteele: (Default)
Happy news!

Only a few weeks after I had finished writing the second draft, my book Sacred Homemaking: A Magical Approach to a Tidier Home was picked up by Aeon Books, a well-known publisher of occult and herbal knowledge. Aeon has released several titles by John Michael Greer, including The Way of the Secret Temple, Monsters, and The Sacred Geometry Oracle, among others. The circumstances around this seemed like divine intervention. I had not yet sought a publisher and was considering writing a query to another publisher when I was contacted by Oliver of Aeon who just happened to like my Substack.

Sacred Homemaking is in some ways the occultist's answer to the minimalist genre, which includes Marie Kondo's book The Art of Tidying Up and The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning by Margareta Magnuson. To my mind, though both of those authors were on the right track, they missed the mark when it came to focusing on the spirits of place instead of the actual stuff being minimized.

Sacred Homemaking is a book about appreciating the spirit of place, a skill that once cultivated you will take with you far beyond a single lifetime. By learning to communicate with the spaces and things around us in a meaningful way, we learn to take off our materialist blinders and connect with the world around us via gratitude. Sacred Homemaking does include a great deal of practical advice -- much of this comes from the original Sacred Homemaker in my life, my mother -- but in essence it is a book about enlightenment. I do talk about how to fold things, including underwear, if you are into that. Today I was going to fold my underwear but ran out of time... my underwear and socks may end up crudely stuffed into a drawer if time runs short enough. Sacred Homemaking is not about perfection. In fact, one of my salient points in the book, made early on, is to appreciate the "Charlie Brown's Christmas Tree" aspects of home, meaning the imperfect being appreciated and sublimated into joy and usefulness.

I am very excited to bring you Sacred Homemaking. Fingers crossed and with prayers, my fondest hope is that it will hit shelves May 2026 or sooner. Until then, I hope it will be worth the wait.

Delegating Etheric Labor in Your Sacred Home (Excerpt from Sacred Homemaking)

The bitterest and worst of household fights occur over etheric labor: meal preparation, cleaning, laundry, bill management, childcare, and household repairs. The war between the sexes manifests itself in battles over dirty dishes and leaky roofs.

Women are generally better at daily housework and household management. Men are generally better at breadwinning and household repair. Though no woman or man should ever feel confined to a particular set of roles as no two individuals are truly alike, a sane society leaves room for people falling into their natural roles and does not diminish anyone for their choices. We do not live in a sane society. Women may work outside the home more than ever these days, but that hasn’t lightened the load of housework they do and are expected to do.

In the 1970s and 80s, women were fed a line they could have it all, a package which included a thriving career, a beautiful home, well-adjusted children, and a happy husband. This clever ploy made women into a zombie army of materialist consumers, both making more and spending more while losing happiness and well-being. There simply are not enough hours in a day to have a full-time job, play with and educate one’s children, engage in a fulfilling relationship with one’s spouse, and keep a house in reasonable working order.

Because people love to commoditize everything in our civilization, many have suggested making lists of household tasks and then giving these lists to various family members with the pat expectation they will get them done. Some wives go as far as offering sexual perks to their husbands when they perform a certain number of listed tasks within a given period. It’s a sad day when you have to prostitute yourself to your own mate in order to get him to wash dishes, change the baby’s diaper, and fix a creaky door.

As someone who has been married over two and a half decades to her first and only husband, let me reassure you that making lists of undone tasks is a surefire way to build resentment and hatred that will shorten your marriage or lessen its quality. Never build the negative by emphasizing it and giving it free reign to become an obsession. Making lists of commoditized household work cheapens the perceived quality of the work and makes it clear you don’t appreciate the work already being done. Instead of listing on paper what your spouse has failed to do every week, list in your head or in a secret diary of what he or she does every day, week, and year to keep your home up and running and cultivate gratitude for it. Thank him for these completed tasks, reminding him of the goodness he has made. If his list has nothing on it or is dreadfully short, for instance, he is a gambler and a violent drunk, then perhaps you should leave.

The moral of the story is that a husband (or wife) is not another child, nor should he or she be treated like one. A spouse is an adult who shares responsibility, not an army cadet or a personal assistant who takes orders. In a good relationship, focusing on your mate’s achievements instead of marinating in his or her shortcomings is the most difficult and necessary of tasks.

When your husband does do something right, thank him just as you thank your door, toilet, and toaster. Because he is human and not the spirit of a place or object, thank him aloud, in words. My husband almost never did the dishes in the first fifteen years of our marriage because he did not understand how much it meant to me. Over time, I thanked him every time he did dishes even when he did not thank me for doing dishes. When he was unemployed for several years, he often left dirty dishes for me in the sink despite my being exhausted from working full time and preparing most of our meals. If you think I was not fuming mad from this little habit of his, then you don’t know me very well. Criticizing him by saying he rarely or never did dishes did not work: I tried it. What has worked has been thanking him when he does dishes, which at this point is nearly every day. During those rare moments when I felt it was right, I told him how much it meant to me when he did dishes, especially when I did not expect him to do them. I also make a practice of recalling at least three of his wise decisions or actions whenever he makes me angry. I try to make a point of expressing my gratitude for him on a regular basis. He is better about doing the dishes and housework than he used to be but I still do the majority of tidying and cleaning tasks and he still does most of the home repair and construction projects. We are both working full time.
kimberlysteele: (Default)

I am happy to read your Ogham free of charge -- that's how I hone my divination skills.  Please limit your reading request to four or fewer Ogham cards: though this can take many forms, here are some common ones (all of them are basically combos of 4 cards):
 
-a single three card reading for the week or month and a one-off, one card reading
-four questions about four separate items that require one answer (card) per item
-a one card reading to answer a specific question and a three card for a more nuanced question
-Two separate readings, two cards a piece exploring the positives and negatives of two different choices
 
I am happy to do Ogham readings confidentially via email -- just email me at k steele studio at gmail during the allotted time/before deadline.  I cannot answer health questions.  If you have a question about health or another sensitive, private matter, provide a bunch of non-identifying information and the Ogham will be able to figure it out even if I don't. I'm serious... the Ogham actually tend to "know" things without me being privy to what is going on.

Please note I take time off during Solstices and Equinoxes for Druid stuff and because sometimes I simply need a break

My next planned break is from Saturday, June 21, 2025 - Friday, July 11, 2025.

I take reading requests from whenever this post goes up on Friday night until 8pm US Central Time Saturday.  

For a more in depth look into how I read and interpret the Ogham's symbols, please visit my website druidogham.wordpress.com.

I am currently trying to minimize my use of PayPal.  If you'd like to make a donation, I would be grateful if you did it here:

http://buymeacoffee.com/kimberlysteele

Your prayers of blessing to the deity/deities of your choice are welcome whether or not you can donate.

kimberlysteele: (Default)
Back in the day, there was a great deal more reverence for so-called pop princesses. It seemed like EVERYTHING to be one of them. When my little friends and I played Barbies or starred in the grade school talent show, it was all in service of the vision of ourselves as the next big superstar. Stars used to have clout and that’s why we watched them so avidly and kept track of their lives via magazines and award shows. It was exciting to see people who were recognized for their talents and the pop princesses of yore had talent in spades. Carole King wrote songs for herself as well as Aretha Franklin, James Taylor, and the Beatles. Barbra Streisand had an amazing voice. Janis Joplin electrified every performance until her tragic death (under fishy, Clive Davis-connected circumstances). Stevie Nicks was uniquely amazing.
 
Though it is arguable that the pop-star-as-harlot trend began with Nancy Sinatra and Boots Were Made for Walkin’, it didn’t track until Madonna and her early eighties Reagan era schtick. Madonna’s voice wasn’t much but the songs she chose were fun, irreverent, and carefree. Yes, there was a time when Madonna wasn’t an insufferable, pompous wretch. Madonna quickly morphed into the creature we know today, a metastasizing schizoid chimera’s head of new personalities, one for every passing trend. Like Madonna herself, pop devolved from goofy and fun to shock and awe. Nearly all hip hop was Diddy-fied and nearly all pop was Madonnaed. Both genres became tools to cover for rapists, including child rapists. Both genres reflected the abject worship of death.
 
They took the audience
 
For every Beyonce, there are a hundred flash-in-the-pans such as Nikka Costa, Elle King, and Tones and I. One hit wonders still hit and disappear. For every one hit wonder artist, there are thousands of could-have-beens with talent that was equal or greater to the one hit wonder artist, if not Beyonce herself. Beyonce is not and never has been particularly talented except perhaps as a vocalist. She is slightly above average as a singer but she is not anywhere near the vocal talent of Ariana Grande. Her songs are co-written, and if we translate from the Bullshitese, that means she takes credit for other people’s creative work and calls it her own. Now that Beyonce’s looks are fading and she and her husband are being revealed as malefic Luciferian witches, Beyonce’s glamours are developing deep fissures. Beyonce as a brand is soon to be relegated to the Walmart clearance aisle.
 
It could not have happened to a nicer person, LOL. Beyonce is an awful human being who all but admits to murdering a woman in cold blood in a song lyric.
 
Your body laid out on these filthy floors
Your bloodstains on my custom coutures
Bathroom attendant let me right in
She was a big fan
I really tried to stay cool
But your arrogance disturbed my solitude
Now I ripped your dress and you're all black and blue
Look what you made me do
 
-Beyonce, Daughter

There are compelling rumors that Beyonce, who attended many Diddy parties, forces other artists to acknowledge her at awards shows as a form of tribute. The Beyonce rabbit hole goes very deep and if nothing else reveals that she should probably not be allowed around children. To see her finally failing after the forced farce of Cowboy Carter, a garbage black “country”album that suspiciously swept awards shows, provides a warm dose of schadenfreude. She is finally beginning to taste the obscurity she richly deserves.
 
The trouble with the one pop princess who beats out the hundreds of one hit wonders who beat out the thousands of Never-made-its is that thousands are not able to make a living or gain a following in music because of the pop princesses soaking up attention and money. Live music has taken a real beating in the last fifty years. Rates of pay for live shows have stayed exactly the same as they were in 1978 with no adjustment for inflation. Cover is where all the money is and anyone singing cover has to live in fear of being shaken down by the performing rights orgs such as BMI and ASCAP. When the performing rights org gestapo catches a nine year old singing Bruno Mars in a coffee shop while her music teacher accompanies her on guitar, it is all hands on deck to put the coffee shop out of business with astronomical licensing fees. A small restaurant near where I live in suburban Chicagoland was put out of business for hosting open mic nights with unlicensed cover songs. Meanwhile, YouTube has millions if not billions of cover songs being broadcast any given second that somehow are of no matter.
 
Pop princesses have dominated the scene long enough that I perceive their demise as shocking. I never thought I would see the end of them but it seems the memes have spoken: the pop princess era is aging badly. South Park started having a field day with J.Lo back in 2003, ruthlessly mocking her as Cartman’s hand (job) puppet. In 2012, a meme called Beyonce’s Final Form heralded the beginning of the end for Mrs. Carter, who stupidly attempted to force “everyone” to take the meme off the internet. This backfired spectacularly, and now the enduring image of Beyonce that will always live in the hearts of the masses is utterly unflattering.  Awww.
 
There is a particularly savage meme going around TikTok using combined footage from various pop princess’s concerts. The meme borrows the soundtrack from a 2008 SNL spoof of the Laurence Welk show featuring the fictional Maharelle Sisters, an old timey singing group in matching, semi-formal, yellow dresses. The sisters sing to introduce themselves in cringey crooner voices. “I’m Janice,” sings the first sister. “I’m Holly,” sings the second sister. “I’m Noraaaa,” croons the third sister in a wacky vibrato. “AND I’M DENICE!” screeches the fourth sister, who has a large forehead, tiny doll-sized hands, and a hefty helping of derp. Though the meme has several variations, Janice is Sabrina Carpenter, Holly is Taylor Swift, Nora is Cardi B, and Denise is Katy Perry in her Lifetimes tour. Katy Perry, for many reasons, has become the butt of internet jokes. Once the reigning queen of pop stardom, she too will be joining Beyonce in the Walmart clearance bin soon.
 
 
If I could walk a mile in their leotards, I would pass

All pop princesses wear leotards and/or bikinis onstage. It is as if there is a “no pants allowed” rule if you’re a major label artist recording a video or performing on tour. I get that pop music is more about entertainment than actual music. I am still sick to death of the goddamned leotard. When I hear a good song, the very last thing I am curious about is what the artist’s butt looks like. Having a perky derriere should not be a prerequisite for musical success, yet as we have seen with the hundreds of one hit wonders who are pushed aside for a single pop princess, there does not seem to be any other way than shaking that ass.
 
I had that body once upon a time and I suppose had I had slightly different luck, a more symmetrical face, fewer scruples, and less autism, it could have been me pumping booty to some co-written track. Ugh. No amount of money is worth the humiliation these women put themselves through to give the appearance of staying on top. Butts have nothing to do with good music and never will — the sounds that come from the butt cannot be tuned or helped. The Janice/Holly/Nora/Denise meme gives me hope that the Leotard Retard era is finally coming to its close. When they dance in their scanty outfits, they uniformly look like the stripper Cardi B once was. This not only commodifies music, it commodifies dance. I am old enough to remember when dancing was fun and my relatives danced the polka at backyard parties. I remember when dancing wasn’t always overtly sexual and didn’t feature copious attention to the crotch.
 

It eats them alive

When you are sexualized and commoditized from a tender age, it does horrible things to the brain. There is not a single pop princess that I would describe in a good mental or emotional place, though they all love to pretend they are perfectly transcendent.
 
Katy Perry is a mess who gets off on torturing senior citizens. Poor Britney Spears has left the building. I have no doubt that evil things have happened to that woman starting when she was a girl. She is broken and bleeding. Christina Aguilera is dysmorphic and probably mutilated. I believe Sarah Ferguson of the Black Eyed Peas was serially raped from childhood. J.Lo became a monster. Lady Gaga is a ritual Satanist. Olivia Rodrigo is mentally ill. Li’l Kim butchered her face. Cardi B. is a political dishrag. Doja Cat is probably mutilated and again is another out and proud Satanist. Rihanna lost her ability to sing. Amy Winehouse is dead. Ariana Grande looks like she is dysmorphic, self-harming, and dying of anorexia. Chappell Roan has dead eyes and dresses like Dee Snider in his Twisted Sister era.
 
 
Every one of them is supposed to be a role model. Every one of them undercut thousands of talented artists to sit at the top of a septic astral pyramid that yields diminishing returns for all. Most of them are industry plants. Taylor Swift is the daughter of a Blackrock bigwig. The reason her bland, banal Muzak sucks so bad is because she has the soul of a private equity firm with ancestry to match. Her songs are the sound of a corporate focus group. The same company that buys up middle class housing so they can drive up real estate prices to benefit their shareholders put Taylor Swift on the map and drove her earworms into the soft flesh of little girl’s brains. Disney (with its woke communist agenda) is also owned mostly by Blackrock. Blackrock may have geoengineered the North Carolina earthquakes in a convenient grab of a lithium mine — there is another rabbit hole. Let’s just say I would not put it past them. Blackrock’s executives are not nice people.
 
To her credit, Taylor Swift is reportedly good to her employees and staff, and she’s nice to fans, which is far more than Jennifer Lopez or Madonna will ever be able to claim. That said, her constant whining and politicizing carries a sinister agenda. If she is a role model, I would like to see some other choices.
 
At least Swift apparently writes her own music — her shoddy, generic stamp is all over her lame oeuvre. Many of the aforementioned artists cannot bother to pen their own tunes, which means they displaced talented people in order to pimp whatever Max Martin felt like writing any given week. Most people do not know that he writes the majority of pop songs offered to any given major label songwriter. He is Carol King on steroids.
 
I will conclude this lament with my own hope that pop princesses can be filed away for perpetuity and that local music can regain the foothold it had in the seventies. Perhaps I am alone but I would like to see the next generation of musical women keep their pants and skirts on. Call me a nerd but I would like to hear songs with more than four chords with actual acoustic instruments being somewhat expertly played. I would like this music to be as good live and unedited as it is on recording. I would like to see music divorce itself from porn and pornified culture. I would like to see my friends who are far more skilled at playing live than I will ever be compensated for their skills. I would like to see them be able to make a living off of something besides teaching. It may be too late for me (also I am very happy as a music teacher) but I would like to see them on the stage, exuberant, and very much with all their clothes on.
 
I guess a girl can dream.
 
To read this article with photos and silly captions, click HERE.
kimberlysteele: (Default)

I am happy to read your Ogham free of charge -- that's how I hone my divination skills.  Please limit your reading request to four or fewer Ogham cards: though this can take many forms, here are some common ones (all of them are basically combos of 4 cards):
 
-a single three card reading for the week or month and a one-off, one card reading
-four questions about four separate items that require one answer (card) per item
-a one card reading to answer a specific question and a three card for a more nuanced question
-Two separate readings, two cards a piece exploring the positives and negatives of two different choices
 
I am happy to do Ogham readings confidentially via email -- just email me at k steele studio at gmail during the allotted time/before deadline.  I cannot answer health questions.  If you have a question about health or another sensitive, private matter, provide a bunch of non-identifying information and the Ogham will be able to figure it out even if I don't. I'm serious... the Ogham actually tend to "know" things without me being privy to what is going on.

Please note I take time off during Solstices and Equinoxes for Druid stuff and because sometimes I simply need a break

My next planned break is from Saturday, June 21, 2025 - Friday, July 11, 2025.

I take reading requests from whenever this post goes up on Friday night until 8pm US Central Time Saturday.  

For a more in depth look into how I read and interpret the Ogham's symbols, please visit my website druidogham.wordpress.com.

I am currently trying to minimize my use of PayPal.  If you'd like to make a donation, I would be grateful if you did it here:

http://buymeacoffee.com/kimberlysteele

Your prayers of blessing to the deity/deities of your choice are welcome whether or not you can donate.

kimberlysteele: (Default)
For those who actually have vibrant, full lives: Katy Perry is a pop singer.  She sang at the Superbowl halftime show a few years ago.  

Katy Perry’s most recent publicity stunt was to take a rocket ship to the edge of space with a crew of five other women. The mission, if you can even call it that, was named Blue Origin, a generic, corporate shill moniker that would be entirely plausible as an overpriced cosmetics line or a stupidly expensive sushi restaurant. The all-female excursion that did not even break orbit cost a cool billion dollars and pumped out more carbon emissions in one shot than a billion people create in a lifetime. Jeff Bezo’s latest wife, a heavily plastic-surgeried pilot turned glamour puss, was in the group. The trip in its entirety was done to show the triumph of feminism — over what we will never know — and only took eleven minutes start to finish. Jeff Bezos, who financed it, is using it to launch his latest scheme of Space Rides for Rich People. Anyone can go on an incredibly wasteful tour of near space if he or she can cough up 150 grand in cash. The internet had a field day with the mission, with the funniest of memes invoking the rocket ship scene from Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me (1999). Blue Origin was by CIA spooks, for CIA spooks, and that is why the flight list included Katy Perry and Gayle King, Oprah’s best friend. Facing relentless mockery, Gayle King attempted to defend the jaunt after the fact, and was downright pissy about it. Ms. King defended the extravagance with her very own “Let ‘em eat cake” phrase: “Have y’all been to space?” and of course the internet, led by TikTok, said “No, Gayle, you probably need to be able to afford health insurance to do that.”

To state the extremely obvious, Katy Perry is not the brightest crayon in the box. I would guesstimate her IQ to be in the high 80s at best. That is why we have to take her lifestyle choices with a few grains of salt — she’s nearly in the Special category, if you get my drift, and we cannot expect a person who nearly rode the short bus to make consistently excellent decisions. Regardless of derp, when a person becomes extraordinarily wealthy and famous, it can go several ways. In Katy’s case, it has gone the way of the Wendigo. The Wendigo as most of you know is a Native American creature of legend. It is a formidable blend of cannibal and zombie that was once human. A Wendigo is created when a person tastes human flesh and develops an insatiable appetite for human meat. Yet the more the Wendigo eats, the thinner and hungrier it becomes.

Katy Perry has one or more Wendigo spirits attached to her — one craves influence, hence her absurd, vain album releases under the guise of empowering women and constant cringe faux-enlightened posturing. Another one of Katy’s Wendigos is real estate. She has destroyed more than one elderly person’s life by forcing the purchase of their homes she fancied those residences. She once roped an actual nun into circumstances that most likely caused the elderly nun’s death on the courtroom floor because she wanted to buy the abbey. Katy constantly dives into drama over houses she covets for herself, despite owning multiple large homes, which tells me she longs for a true home of the sort that money cannot buy. I’ll be talking about that true sense of home in my upcoming 2026 book, Sacred Homemaking, which is an occult take on the tidying genre.


George Michael at the height of Wham!'s fame

The day to Katy Perry’s night is George Michael, a world famous singer who died in 2016. George Michael, who was half of the group called Wham!, was one of the 1980s biggest stars and most likely went through the whole disgusting Hollywood groomer mill with the best of them. Unlike in Katy Perry’s case, whatever happened did not turn George Michael into a monster. He turned into an angel. George Michael donated huge amounts of money in secret. He secretly volunteered to help causes he believed in despite being a literal rock star. Revelations of just how charitable and utterly selfless he was were only forthcoming after his death at age 53 because he deliberately tried to keep it all on the down low. When he saw a woman on the TV show Deal or No Deal say that she could not afford IVF treatment, he secretly called the next day and gave her 15,000 pounds. She ended up naming the son she conceived via the treatment after him. He regularly left 5000 pound tips with waitresses and waiters. Entire charities said that his millions kept them afloat for years, and these are only the ones we were able to find out about. Had George Michael met a bunch of nuns who were going to lose their sanctuary instead of Katy Perry, there is no doubt in my mind he would have bought the property for them at a much inflated cost just so they could stay there as long as they wanted.

Like many greedy people, Katy Perry will remain in a state of Wendigo-driven stasis until she lets go of her fear. The gods are patient and are willing to let this process take many excruciating lifetimes. I personally would not trade places with Katy Perry for all the world, because much of her wealth is unearned. Like many who amass unearned wealth, she has failed to understand she can and will be earning it back in future lifetimes. Or maybe she does understand it deep down and it causes even more dissonance in her fractured brain. Generosity sublimates to the power of seven, and that’s why George Michael’s soul was likely able to have a great deal more autonomy after he died. Katy Perry won’t be so lucky. This is why it is so important to cultivate generosity and gratitude in equal measure. It’s not just that Katy Perry is going to get the short end of the stick later on in her future incarnations, it’s that she is horrible now. She does not act like a happy person. She acts like a person with a Wendigo. She is the author of her own destruction because she lacks humility, grace, and inner beauty. Nevertheless, it’s never too early or late to stop lying to yourself. As George Michael proved, compulsive generosity is the fastest shortcut to heal the heart, but it isn’t the only path. Though I doubt she will do anything differently, I will always maintain that no person is beyond redemption, even if that person is a space cadet bimbo.

kimberlysteele: (Default)

I am happy to read your Ogham free of charge -- that's how I hone my divination skills.  Please limit your reading request to four or fewer Ogham cards: though this can take many forms, here are some common ones (all of them are basically combos of 4 cards):
 
-a single three card reading for the week or month and a one-off, one card reading
-four questions about four separate items that require one answer (card) per item
-a one card reading to answer a specific question and a three card for a more nuanced question
-Two separate readings, two cards a piece exploring the positives and negatives of two different choices
 
I am happy to do Ogham readings confidentially via email -- just email me at k steele studio at gmail during the allotted time/before deadline.  I cannot answer health questions.  If you have a question about health or another sensitive, private matter, provide a bunch of non-identifying information and the Ogham will be able to figure it out even if I don't. I'm serious... the Ogham actually tend to "know" things without me being privy to what is going on.

Please note I take time off during Solstices and Equinoxes for Druid stuff and because sometimes I simply need a break

My next planned break is from Saturday, June 21, 2025 - Friday, July 11, 2025.

I take reading requests from whenever this post goes up on Friday night until 8pm US Central Time Saturday.  

For a more in depth look into how I read and interpret the Ogham's symbols, please visit my website druidogham.wordpress.com.

I am currently trying to minimize my use of PayPal.  If you'd like to make a donation, I would be grateful if you did it here:

http://buymeacoffee.com/kimberlysteele

Your prayers of blessing to the deity/deities of your choice are welcome whether or not you can donate.

kimberlysteele: (Default)
Most people have enough knowledge to understand that you don’t separate dogs that are mating unless you want to kill them in one of the most brutal ways imaginable. A dog’s penis, when erect, looks like a little Hindenberg with a swollen middle. This middle is what lodges in the female dog’s vaginal canal and causes them to stick together while copulating.

The USA has been China’s bitch since the 1990s. When I was a child in the 1980s, clothing was still expensive because the textile industry had not yet been entirely offshored. Made in Japan labels were reliably as common as Made in China ones. By the time Bill Clinton signed NAFTA into law in 1993, the evisceration of the American working class was well under way thanks to Clinton’s predecessor, George W. Bush. Republicans and Democrats alike gutted the American middle class with relish, throwing every decently paying job that wasn’t in technology or sales to a river full of piranhas. As I.P. Freely would attest, the river in question was yellow with the unchecked industrial waste of a corporate chain of I-don’t-give-a-damns stretching ten thousand miles across the Pacific.

Since Trump dropped his transparently Art of the Deal-crafted tariff anvil, a Red Army of sniveling victim-blamers has surged on social media to point fingers at Americans crying “Weak! Weak!” The most strident voice in this cacophony is none other than Xi himself, who has in his characteristically snide, backhanded way accused Trump of “unilateral bullying”. Whatever. The Chinese government and its various arms constantly engage in propaganda as shadow projection. Meanwhile, while Xi fiddles, the Chinese middle class — yeah, the same one that was built off the lost livelihoods of small town Americans from 1988 to 2025 — is cratering like a souffle in a drafty oven. Most people do not realize that China’s economic miracle only happened because China sold its own people to become capitalist chattel. Since normal Chinese people are conservative by nature, the Chinese government exploited their tendencies to work hard and obey. Where Americans spend in the present, Chinese tend to save for the future, and the Chinese government took full advantage of this by putting its poor to work in dingy sweatshops all this time while tricking the better off into investing in real estate ponzi schemes. Despite rampant censorship of the sort no one in the West can truly understand, Chinese ghost cities have made Western news because they are too damn big and spooky to ignore. For the uninitiated, a Chinese ghost city is a giant metropolis built on the money of large and small investors. Average Chinese middle class families, though being unwilling to spend on consumer goods as Americans do, were somehow willing to throw money at real estate that had yet to be built. The money that flowed into these places fueled several economies: Chinese-owned Australian steel companies, Chinese lumber operations that denuded various parts of Indonesia and the Philippines to bare dusty earth, Chinese mining operations that sucked metals out of the ground wherever there were officials who looked the other way as little brown skinned kids were dropped into mining pits to comb toxic substances out of the earth.

When Xi’s sympathizers accuse Americans of being fat, consumerist, and greedy and therefore complicit in all of our own troubles, I think the worst part of it for them was the retort “And? So what?” We Americans know we are addicted to cheap Chinese goods. I am writing this essay on an Apple computer that was made in China. Yes, it was made twenty years ago but the iPhone is far more recent. I am drinking dandelion tea from a Chinese-made mug. My IKEA desk was likely made in China. I am wearing shoes that were made in China. My eyeglasses were made in China. I could go on.

China is asshoe

The US exports 144 billion dollars worth of goods to China every year. China exports 439 billion dollars worth of goods to the US. China is the male dog, pumping away. China is the pimp and America is the hoe, wantonly servicing her master. Nobody expected Trump to come in and sever the relationship via a surprise vagina dentata feature. I sincerely thought Kamala would win — she is owned by Blackrock, which of course shares plenty of America-destroying interests with China. Isn’t it interesting that Disney, which is another arm of Blackrock, has consistently pandered to the Chinese government, conveniently papering over its DEI agenda if it didn’t suit Chinese audiences? But I digress.

The Chinese elite are a bunch of serpents with long memories and it has made them and their country retarded. For thirty years, China has been building its war machine in gleeful anticipation of World War III, where its elite jones for an apocalyptic face off to prove they were always the bigger dick dog in this fight against the West that became pronounced during the Opium Wars. Yes, the Chinese elite are still sore about the freaking Opium Wars, as if unleashing fentanyl dumps on flyover towns isn’t enough revenge for drugs sold to someone’s great grandfather in an opium den two hundred years ago. There are certain cultures that end up revolving around revenge and modern day Chinese culture is one of them. Unlike the China of the past, this current empire may end up shorting itself out due to ambition and bloodlust. The desperation of the Chinese elite has a Classic Mayan vibe to it.

We saw the horror of the Chinese psyche in crystal clarity during the Covid debacle. The unfortunate citizens of China’s most famous city, Shanghai, were welded into their apartments, their children kidnapped and their pets suffocated in large, plastic bags on the street as they were forced to haplessly watch from high apartment windows. Though many of my fellow Americans would have cucked if such a scenario came to the USA, I was ready to throw down and there were plenty more like me who would have done the same. People like me who were ready to die rather than take the quaxx may have been the minority, but we were also an armed minority thanks to the Second Amendment. When Americans say the Chinese hate our freedom, this is what we are talking about. When you have been sold a bunch of lies and you have sacrificed your life for whatever the government told you to cuck for, the nation that housed people who were still strong enough to choose death before dishonor drives your little cuck brain into self-immolation territory. Just as Americans made themselves into consumerist slaves sucking on the teat of cheaply made goods, the Chinese made themselves into servants producing those goods.

The latest thing on TikTok is where Chinese factory owners reveal what I knew the entire time, which is that brand name handbags, clothing, furniture, etc. are not worth their inflated price tags. All of those fancy $400 Nike shoes and $38,000 Birkin bags are Chinese crap. It was all a trick. That supposed couture-inspired dress with a Made in Italy tag was actually made in China and finished in Italy so an Italian label could be slapped on it along with a 500% markup. The factory owners have given us all the skinny in a last bid attempt to get us to shop direct. I saw a Chinese person literally asking Americans to travel to China to buy a bunch of cheap goods from her plant and have them shipped back. I laughed. Yet there are Americans stupid enough to still be buying "Chanel” and “Balenciaga” who will probably be taking her up on her offer. I have never owned a designer handbag. I am very proud of this fact. The moral of the story is that Chinese manufacturers were sleazy slimebags, the lot of them, who hoodwinked gullible people into thinking brand name was different and better. None of this crap was ever worth the poisoned rivers or the mountains of discarded junk. Supposedly shipping containers are stacked a mile high in every Chinese port. China is in trouble.

The stock market

Stock markets everywhere seem like fake collections of metrics that are supposed to get us to panic on command. I don’t believe the stock market reflects reality. It is a manipulation arm for the government. The Chinese stock market is down. Maybe theirs is based in reality. The yuan is not doing well. Videos on social media show working Chinese crying and begging for mercy. I don’t want normal Chinese people to suffer, yet I can do nothing about their suffering. This is, of course, something they need to take up with their government. For years, I have tried to minimize the amount of new Chinese goods I buy by shopping thrift. I saw the writing on the wall years ago. The relationship with China has been sour a long time; now it lies broken and bleeding in the gutter.

From what I can tell, China will be handily replaced and cheap goods will flow to America from everywhere else, such as Vietnam, India, and Mexico. I don’t necessarily see it as a good thing. We Americans need to start making our own goods again and wrest power away from the service economy. Restoring the manufacturing economy from its current dead state will be nearly impossible, and even if America became the manufacturing center of the world again, it is not the best outcome. The best outcome is for the US and China both to become more self-reliant and not up in each other’s business. To quote a common liberal idiot bumper sticker, it is time to learn to coexist.
kimberlysteele: (Default)

I am happy to read your Ogham free of charge -- that's how I hone my divination skills.  Please limit your reading request to four or fewer Ogham cards: though this can take many forms, here are some common ones (all of them are basically combos of 4 cards):
 
-a single three card reading for the week or month and a one-off, one card reading
-four questions about four separate items that require one answer (card) per item
-a one card reading to answer a specific question and a three card for a more nuanced question
-Two separate readings, two cards a piece exploring the positives and negatives of two different choices
 
I am happy to do Ogham readings confidentially via email -- just email me at k steele studio at gmail during the allotted time/before deadline.  I cannot answer health questions.  If you have a question about health or another sensitive, private matter, provide a bunch of non-identifying information and the Ogham will be able to figure it out even if I don't. I'm serious... the Ogham actually tend to "know" things without me being privy to what is going on.

Please note I take time off during Solstices and Equinoxes for Druid stuff and because sometimes I simply need a break

My next planned break is from Saturday, June 21, 2025 - Friday, July 11, 2025.

I take reading requests from whenever this post goes up on Friday night until 8pm US Central Time Saturday.  

For a more in depth look into how I read and interpret the Ogham's symbols, please visit my website druidogham.wordpress.com.

I am currently trying to minimize my use of PayPal.  If you'd like to make a donation, I would be grateful if you did it here:

http://buymeacoffee.com/kimberlysteele

Your prayers of blessing to the deity/deities of your choice are welcome whether or not you can donate.

Open Post

Apr. 6th, 2025 10:55 pm
kimberlysteele: (Default)
Hey everyone, I am doing an Open Post in place of an essay or new Snow White installment this week because I'm absolutely swamped. I should have some very cool news in a couple of months max, but I'm still in the silence-keeping phase of the project that's soaking up all my time this week.

The picture is a place I am obsessed with but will likely never see, at least not in this incarnation, Torngat National Park in Newfoundland/Labrador in Canada.


kimberlysteele: (Default)

I am happy to read your Ogham free of charge -- that's how I hone my divination skills.  Please limit your reading request to four or fewer Ogham cards: though this can take many forms, here are some common ones (all of them are basically combos of 4 cards):
 
-a single three card reading for the week or month and a one-off, one card reading
-four questions about four separate items that require one answer (card) per item
-a one card reading to answer a specific question and a three card for a more nuanced question
-Two separate readings, two cards a piece exploring the positives and negatives of two different choices
 
I am happy to do Ogham readings confidentially via email -- just email me at k steele studio at gmail during the allotted time/before deadline.  I cannot answer health questions.  If you have a question about health or another sensitive, private matter, provide a bunch of non-identifying information and the Ogham will be able to figure it out even if I don't. I'm serious... the Ogham actually tend to "know" things without me being privy to what is going on.

Please note I take time off during Solstices and Equinoxes for Druid stuff and because sometimes I simply need a break

My next planned break is from Saturday, June 21, 2025 - Friday, July 11, 2025.

I take reading requests from whenever this post goes up on Friday night until 8pm US Central Time Saturday.  

For a more in depth look into how I read and interpret the Ogham's symbols, please visit my website druidogham.wordpress.com.

I am currently trying to minimize my use of PayPal.  If you'd like to make a donation, I would be grateful if you did it here:

http://buymeacoffee.com/kimberlysteele

Your prayers of blessing to the deity/deities of your choice are welcome whether or not you can donate.

kimberlysteele: (Default)
One of the most pleasant aspects of middle age in my case has been the utter shedding of any concern about what people think of me or how many I influence. For me, it is now about quality over quantity. I feel freed to be my quirky, oddball self in ways I have never felt before, and with this freedom comes a great locus of control. Your cringe has no power over me.

I believe my Pledge to Say the Pledge (of Allegiance) helped in some small yet significant part to save America from four to eight years under Kamala “Quid Pro Hoe” Harris and her word salad, heels-up approach to diplomacy. Our battles over here in the States are not over — in fact, they have just begun, so that is why I would appreciate anyone willing to say the Pledge of Allegiance every day, envisioning the American flag in their minds, to lend power to that astral pyramid. The observant will notice I said absolutely nothing about Donald Trump, Kamala Harris, Joe Biden, or any specific political pundit in my Pledge to Say the Pledge essay. I don’t allow any celebrity or politician to live rent free in my head, not even to pity him or her, and neither should you. Any given politician or celebrity is a temporary diversion and the end product of a dream. The dream itself is what matters.

I will now state the obvious: Britain is in big trouble. Most of this trouble is coming from masses of people imported from elsewhere, some (not all) of whom are violent, stupid, and backwards with no hope of redemption. There is already talk of civil war and calls for one side to retreat to the countryside in order to cut off supply chains to cities. The kind of guerrilla war this would ignite is not of a sort than anyone wants — the current goings on in Israel and its Gaza strip would be an eerily prescient preview of Britain’s future. Nobody will win.

Call me Pollyanna if you will (it’s really funny to be this much of a goody two-shoes dork after 20 years of nihilistic atheism) but I think the only way through here is to focus on the positive. Britain has a great deal going for it, and if we are going to save it, we will only do so by building up its spirit.

Calling all Anglophiles

If you are British or like me, a non-Brit who likes Britain and British people, you are cordially invited to lend your power to Britain in this time of need. Every day, please listen and/or sing along to the British National Anthem, God Save the Queen.





God Save the Queen lyrics


God save our gracious Queen,

Long live our noble Queen,

God save the Queen!

Send her victorious,

Happy and Glorious,

Long to reign over us;

God save the Queen!

O Lord our God arise,

Scatter her enemies

And make them fall;

Confound their politics,

Frustrate their knavish tricks,

On Thee our hopes we fix,

God, save us all!

Thy choicest gifts in store

On her be pleased to pour;

Long may she reign;

May she defend our laws,

And ever give us cause

To sing with heart and voice,

God save the Queen!

Occultists know that Christian occultist Dion Fortune (1890-1946) is probably the reason why Britain and Europe are not speaking German today. Fortune deduced that early Nazi victories seemed to have uncanny help. High level Nazis were whispered to be using magic to overcome resistance and clearly it was working. Poland folded like a paper napkin. Anywhere the Nazis stormed, nations cucked. For a time, Britain stood alone against the Axis powers.

Fortune and her small band of like-minded souls gathered at the holiest place in Britain, Glastonbury, to fight for Britain in the only way that works: on the plane of egregores and astral pyramids. Eschewing any mention of politics and avoiding all forms of physical, direct action, Fortune and her Fraternity of the Inner Light did a weekly discursive meditation ritual in order to bolster the British spirit and to call down the Divine for assistance. Why she emphatically chose to warn all her followers against strapping explosives to their chests was clear: you don’t do the Work on the physical plane because the physical plane is downstream of the imagination and the spirit, not the other way around. The physical plane is the realm of effects, not of causality. Meatworld is an illusion. If you want to make actual change, do it in the realm of causality and call upon wise and powerful beings who are much smarter than humans for help.

But Kimberly, I’m neither a mystic nor an Inner Light frat member…

You don’t need to be. For the next year, every day take a moment to keep the best aspects of Britain and its natives in your heart. You can do this by singing along to God Save the Queen, but you can also express your gratitude for the Britain of old in a thousand ways, none of them which involve anger or vengeance towards the invaders or the current British elite who are their Not-see puppeteers. Fly the Union Jack or wear it as a T shirt. Watch old reruns of Black Adder. Laughter is powerful medicine against horror. Have a pint and pour an ounce on the ground in honor of the Queen. Confound their knavish tricks by building the light within you. I know this seems goofy and silly but to my mind it is the only thing that truly works.

Godspeed and God save the Queen, my noble men.

kimberlysteele: (Default)


Winter passed mildly and without consequence and the denizens of the kingdom were grateful. All knew how cruel and bitter the northland winters could be, and how easy it was to run out of firewood and to have to mix barley with dust and wood shavings in order to stretch gruel for the rest of the month. No peasants froze to death, nor were they forced to shelter with their animals and children in the castle keep in order to stay warm.

Spring came early and with it, spectacular arrays of bugs, birds, and other animals. Those who live in this era have no concept of how flocks of birds literally blackened the sky upon sudden migration. Fields were so congested with various sorts of butterflies, there was no idiotic notions of catching them with a net — one was too busy stepping through piles of them like autumn drifts of leaves. Beauty was taken for granted in their time just as it is in ours, which is the fate of all beauty until it fades.

The Queen was emerging from her long depression. The King was gladdened from the depths of his soul to see discreet smiles emerge upon her lips whenever he made light of the comings and goings of various dignitaries and their knights. Her quiet moments of joy made his weeks of stultifying diplomacy ever more bearable. Her ladies in waiting, who had been similarly afflicted by the pall of depression for the long years in which the Queen mourned her infertility, shed their cares for gossip and laughter.

As it is often said, a woman catches pregnant just when she least expects it. Maria was gathering hen’s bit in the garden with Elke the cook and main castle maid when she leaned over and let out a tremendous fart. Elke jumped at the loud and sudden sound and this caused Maria to double over with laughter, clutching her belly and rolling on the ground.

“Liebchen, it’s good to see you laugh… but are you all right?” Elke asked in her stout, motherly way. This caused Maria to laugh harder, especially as she knew her basket of hen’s bit had been upturned.

“Oh heavenly Father, it doesn’t smell like roses, does it?”

“More like you ate too much garlic.”

Maria squealed, clutching her sides again and giggling. Birds began to stare at the spectacle before Maria calmed herself.

Elke righted Maria’s basket and picked up the stray herbs as Maria got up from the dirt path.

She brushed herself off, still chuckling.

Elke gave her a knowing look.

“No, I doubt it. I’ve had false alarms before.” said the Queen, brushing a pebble from her cotehardie.

A few months later, Maria’s belly began to swell dramatically in tandem with late summer heat. This, along with the feeling of little feet kicking in Maria’s womb, cemented Elke’s surreptitious springtime prediction. The Queen, at long last, was with child.

The kingdom was alive with celebration. A retinue of jesters came along with the King’s cousins from the West. Summer rains ruined the fox and stag hunts, but the royal court took great delight in the antics of the entertainers, who performed skits and passion plays with plenty of music and dancing.

Though the King’s heart was much lighter because of the Queen’s pregnancy, due to the nature of human life, stress was never far away. On the same morning the actor-musicians departed for their next tour stop, the King paced the great hall, which was empty and clean, its oiled wooden table slightly glowing in the wan morning light.

The Queen looked around the open arch of the doorway, her large belly nearly preceding her face.

“Are you off to the training yards already?”

“Yes. How are you feeling?” He looked down at her abdomen.

“I’m fine. I am thinking you might have given me a son with the way this one kicks. It’s like I have a small horse in there, always running.”

“I will be delighted either way. Though I already have a fast horse.” She chuckled and he smiled. “Is the dispute over Frau Bolger’s cows settled?”

“Yes, but I had to send Heinrich and his sons to build a fence, so they will be enjoying some extra grain and chickens this winter.”

“Good. His sons need to be kept busy. They’re not going to be joining us unless…”

“Is it coming to that?”

“I am afraid so.”

For nearly a century, the King’s ancestors going back to his great-grandfather maintained peace and prosperity in the kingdom, which was a monumental achievement considering the battle-torn nature of those times. They did not maintain peace via pacifism. Johannes’s great-grandad, Eric, conquered the kingdom when it was a band of cannibalistic, incestuous forest people clinging to the riverbank and fishing when they were not dining upon the human flesh of unfortunate passers-by. Eric had mercilessly wiped the area clean of those backward folk in one brutal campaign, burying their bodies beside the fields of what would become his barley and rye fields, leaving no markers except an oak grove that many would not traverse because of its haunted reputation. Johannes’s grandfather, Eric the Second, gave the unruly peoples of the lands surrounding the kingdom two choices: take it or leave it. Those who disagreed and refused to leave were slain, often with his own sword. By the time Johannes I, the King’s father, took the helm, the land was rich and prosperous, with productive farms. Village parents could choose to enroll their children in the local farm school run by the brothers and sisters of the church. The castle was of modest size with a robust stable of knights. Johannes II, the King, was born to a half-Saracen mother who had been bought from a slave ship and served as his father’s concubine. Johannes was third in line to the throne. His wonderful, strong elder brothers went off on a crusade and never returned by the time Johannes was eight years old. He was married to Maria when she was all of fifteen, and via the marriage and the expansion of the kingdom, his humble and somewhat salacious birth circumstances were conveniently swept under the rug. They had been betrothed when he was ten and Maria was two so Johannes II could expand his kingdom to the lands immediately south of the river. In a completely random twist of fate, Johannes and Maria gradually fell deeply in love, which was unusual for most royal landowners.

Johannes had not inherited the taste for battle that had run through the veins of his male ancestors, yet he was utterly ruthless in many aspects. His goal was stewardship of his kingdom’s citizens, not the expansion of empire via ambition and greed. Johannes had become the rare and coveted sort of King that every regular person wishes to have as ruler: he saw and understood his subjects as fellow humans with needs for which he needed to provide. They were not to exist for his glory, for Christ and Christ alone was owed that honor.

He became known as Johannes the Fair, which was partly an homage to his Apollonian appearance, with flaxen hair that grew darker as he aged, and mostly an acknowledgement of his deft straddling of the precarious boundary between war and peace. Johannes did not fight unless you brought the fight to him, and if you did, you would be sorry. His father had seen to it that Johannes was fit to fight a Crusade like his brothers. His knights were put through the same grueling courses that he had been tasked with from the dawn of his puberty. They were taught horsemanship as squires and were trained to survive off the land by the monks as soon as they could speak and write. They were not indulged and coddled like the knights of more gentrified lands. When they feasted, they feasted well, but they did not do it often and their lives were not corrupted with frequent entertainment and debauchery.

Johannes the Fair would have not been half as effective a monarch had he been married to a bad woman. Queen Maria handled the kingdom’s budget and settled its disputes, often calling upon the wisdom of Elke the cook who raised her and who had come with with her and her dowry when she left the Southlands to be married shortly after her first menarche. Though Maria was renowned for her beauty, with dark hair, a high forehead, rosy cheeks, and eyes the color of cornflowers, she was eventually far more admired for her humility and reluctance to use the wealth of her kingdom to feather her queenly nest in gold and jewels.

“Do you need more from the treasury in case there is a battle?” Maria asked the King.

“No, it has not yet come to that. I don’t want rumors to give the nomads the idea that they can get a rise out of me and my men. They still think we are weak from the famine of two seasons ago and that is exactly the way I want it.” He stroked her beautiful, dark hair. “Don’t worry yourself about it, my love. And don’t work too hard managing the lower court. Elke is already angry enough at you for overexerting yourself.”

The King ended up sending his men into a massacre. Many of his best knights were slaughtered defending the border between his country and the lands east of the mountains, past the Great Forest. He and his men fought bravely and with great valor, but the empire to the East was determined to expand and to pillage and rape until their seed was sown all over what would someday be known as the country of Germany. Johannes, sorrowful and bitter, retreated back to the kingdom and began to recruit more fighting men from the edges of his kingdom and even some mercenaries from beyond it.

The birth of Snow White brightened those dark days when Johannes awoke before the crack of dawn to train his troops and consort with his minister of war and second in command, Adelbrecht, also known as the Cold for his icy demeanor. Snow White, although very fond of keeping her mother awake at night with fierce kicks while still unborn, turned into the sweetest, prettiest, most docile baby two parents could possibly wish for. The birth was not easy for Maria, who labored for an entire day and a half, but once it was over, she healed well because of Elke’s competent midwifery, cunning white witchcraft, and extensive knowledge of herbs.

Though in a precarious place, the kingdom was full of happiness like never before. Snow White was an early learner, walking at nine months and forming her first words around the same time. As her mother had once prophesied, she was born with a full head of raven hair and her skin was fair enough to be translucent, with her infant veins visible through her cheeks when she was fresh out of Maria’s womb. Maria was the happiest, proudest mother in the land, cuddling her baby day and night and lavishing her with kisses. Elke loved the baby too, and together Maria and Elke dressed the child in tiny gowns sewn by the loving women of the kingdom and wrapped her in quilts crafted by their daughters. They often brought Snow White into the village square so the villagers and the sellers could meet their future Queen. The little child stared up at the adults and their kids with large, cornflower-blue eyes with uncanny intelligence behind natural grace and sweetness. Everyone in the kingdom loved her.

All was well in the kingdom and it seemed good luck would never run out until one day, the castle was invaded and fortunate times came to an end.
 

kimberlysteele: (Default)

I am happy to read your Ogham free of charge -- that's how I hone my divination skills.  Please limit your reading request to four or fewer Ogham cards: though this can take many forms, here are some common ones (all of them are basically combos of 4 cards):
 
-a single three card reading for the week or month and a one-off, one card reading
-four questions about four separate items that require one answer (card) per item
-a one card reading to answer a specific question and a three card for a more nuanced question
-Two separate readings, two cards a piece exploring the positives and negatives of two different choices
 
I am happy to do Ogham readings confidentially via email -- just email me at k steele studio at gmail during the allotted time/before deadline.  I cannot answer health questions.  If you have a question about health or another sensitive, private matter, provide a bunch of non-identifying information and the Ogham will be able to figure it out even if I don't. I'm serious... the Ogham actually tend to "know" things without me being privy to what is going on.

Please note I take time off during Solstices and Equinoxes for Druid stuff and because sometimes I simply need a break

My next planned break is from Saturday, June 21, 2025 - Friday, July 11, 2025.

I take reading requests from whenever this post goes up on Friday night until 8pm US Central Time Saturday.  

For a more in depth look into how I read and interpret the Ogham's symbols, please visit my website druidogham.wordpress.com.

I am currently trying to minimize my use of PayPal.  If you'd like to make a donation, I would be grateful if you did it here:

http://buymeacoffee.com/kimberlysteele

Your prayers of blessing to the deity/deities of your choice are welcome whether or not you can donate.

kimberlysteele: (Default)

So this is odd.

I have felt the urge to retell Snow White and that's what this is. I don't have time for new projects and I did not intend to start this one, so if you'd like to hear more, please leave a comment. I have recently finished a nonfiction book called Sacred Homemaking and naturally that has been taking up a great deal of my energy. The last thing I have wanted to do is to start a new fiction project, but what’s funny about writing is that the muse dictates what I do and not the other way around.

There is a new Snow White movie out that looks pretty bad that I'm not going to see. To be honest, the new Snow White movie has become a thrust block for me and it is part of why I have decided to put this on my plate. I have always loved the Snow White story and against my better judgement and lack of time, I am feeling called to put my own spin on it. Many of you may not realize I started my writing career via my series of vampire novels, the Forever Fifteen trilogy, which is available on Amazon.

I want to do my best to flesh out this story, to not leave out the gory and scary parts, and to give both Snow White and the evil stepmother the depth they have always deserved and seldom received. In the original Grimms Brothers tale, Snow White comes off as a ditz because it is never explained why she keeps falling for the Evil Queen’s traps. I am going to try to give her behavior some grounds via an exploration of her mommy issues. As for the Evil Queen, she needs to become the ultimate cautionary tale about vanity and an illustration of why it is crucial to let go of youth before it lets go of you.

Here we go, it’s Snow White. I hope you enjoy, and like I said, if you want to hear more, please comment as it helps in every way.

Once upon a time there was a peaceful, prosperous kingdom ruled by a beautiful queen and a good king. The kingdom was like many of its type that were common back then: a stone castle with a large keep sat upon the edge of a river alongside a church. The miller’s house and its attendant granary lay slightly downriver next to the blacksmith. Fields of wheat and rye swayed heavily in summertime in the cluster of farms surrounding town. The town between the castle walls and its outlying farms was boisterous and lively. You may think in all your modern splendour that the people of the town were primitive and unclean, but you who have rarely known a good night’s sleep and a life spent in harmony with the rhythms of the land are the one who is missing out. The peasants of that fine town labored fewer hours than you in any given year, and due to the good management of the king’s forbears, they had not frequently been sent to war.

The king and queen were happy except for the matter of having children. Despite having been married for nearly ten seasons, there was no offspring. At first, there seemed to be plenty of time and the king and queen joyfully engaged in the act that creates babies. As time wore on, anxiety and rumors grew that one or both rulers were barren. The king did his best to brush off the insinuation that he would not produce an heir. The queen was far more heartbroken, blaming herself and stewing with worry. Winters were the worst, as the days grew short with only the crackling fire and the occasional skitter of cat’s feet across the floor breaking the silence of the castle. The queen dragged her heavy robes across the stone to sit on an embroidered stool at a tiny window with a tiny pane of colored glass embedded within a deep recess like a jewel. She stitched at a quilt she had been working since the trees dropped their leaves. The king, wanting to give her some cheer, told her a silly joke about a knave and a brothel. She chuckled but her smile did not touch her eyes. When he put his hand on her shoulder, she burst into tears.

“Oh Johannes! How I long to give you an heir! I have failed you and I have failed our kingdom.”

“No, Maria, you haven’t. It must be me.”

“We cannot know unless we break our marriage vows, and neither one of us could fathom that.”

“Of course. We have talked about this. Look, Maria, it’s not the end of the world. My cousin Ferdinand’s sons will inherit Karlsburg.”

“Your cousin is insane and so are his sons.”

“Maria, it isn’t as bad as all that.”

“Yes, it is.”

Johannes sighed heavily, daubing at his wife’s eyes with one long sleeve.

“They will have to cross those bridges, provided they don’t burn them first, Maria. We have to leave it in God’s hands.”

Maria smiled. “Friar Albert is so tired of me. I think I try his patience.”

“No Maria, it is I who try your patience.”

“I think he is exhausted by my fantasies of sons and daughters. Just when he thinks he has soothed me, I start up again.”

“He would never admit it — he is a living saint.”

“We are lucky to have him. How many times have I tried to send my wishes to God through him? Perhaps God is tired of my litanies.”

“Maria…”

“But I see her, Johannes. I see her. A girl who is the fairest in the land, with skin as white as snow and lips as red as blood, with hair…”

“As black as oiled iron.”

“As black as a raven’s wing.”

“As black as the ebony wood of the table in the great hall.”

“I know, my love. Sometimes I see her too, and I don’t know what to make of it.”

“You see her too?”

“Yes, she is like a ghost, except she has not yet been born.”

“I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse. I just know I love her with all my heart. Her beauty is more than skin deep! The reason she is fair is because she is kind. She is almost as innocent as the Holy Lamb himself. She has wit but no guile. If only I could have such a blessed daughter, it would make up for my inability to have sons!”

“Maria, shhh….”

“I would call her Snow White.”

She was crying again. Tears fell onto her crewelwork as snowflakes drifted to the precipice of the window and alighted upon the town walls.

kimberlysteele: (Default)
Screenshot from the game Defend Your Castle


Doesn’t everything feel like a power grab these days? Anyone who has had the misfortune of going to an American public school knows the phony posturing about togetherness, sharing, and cooperation is a load of steaming crap. It is dog eat dog from the second you step over the threshold in those accursed establishments. My husband pointed out how the popular kids usually had well off to obscenely rich families. This jibes with my experience. When I was a kid, I was not aware of money and adulation being so deeply interlinked. Many of my own bright-sided blinders had to be removed by brutal experience before I realized popular people were not popular because they were wonderful or friendly. No, they were there because they were self-absorbed snobs who largely put themselves first, often at the direct and indirect expense of others whenever the opportunity presented itself). Furthermore, their parents were the same way with the same training. The apple does not fall far from the tree.
 

I don’t think it would have taken me so long to forgive snobbery of rich, popular kids — we are all young once! — if they had not been so damn mean. In the late 70s and 80s Gen X milieu in which I grew up, the Law of the Jungle was the rule where bullies and the bullied were concerned. Those who fetishize Gen X were clearly not present for the bad parts and are unaware of the drawbacks of the era. For one, unless you were in a particularly liberal urban center, to be openly gay, non-Christian, or of a non-white race often painted a target on your back. No, the current trends of bullying white people for being white, Christians for being Christian, and straight people for liking the opposite sex is not any better, but back then, yeah, that is the way it was. Bullies routinely got away with it, and the target did not have to be homosexual or Asian or whatever. All you had to do to get bullied was to be “different”.

I was a weird, cerebral, awkward, ugly duckling of a child who was also terrible at sports. Naturally, I got my fair share of being mocked, pointed at, and excluded. In my own case, it took me decades and at least a thousand banishing rituals/discursive meditations to get over how I was treated in public school, and I wasn’t even beaten up! I know people who are so profoundly damaged by their public school years that they allow their past traumas (and the assailants associated with them) to live rent free in their heads to this day. Their lives have been wholly warped by their school years, their relationships with their parents in tatters, their habits rendered into destructive addictions that attempt to soothe the open gashes delivered by an endless carousel of toxic memories. They are like trees that chose to be lopped off at the stump and sprout a few deformed branches to compensate for what was lost. Yes, I said they chose. If and when these people end up having kids, it’s Lather, Rinse, Repeat as the entire mess replays itself in perpetuity like an echo haunting.

Movie announcer voice: In a world…

I wonder what would happen in an alternate universe where bullies were immediately punished? We all know that schoolyard bullying of the sort that permanently damaged my middle aged contemporaries did not come to an end because a few more people decided to become aware of it. Bullying continues to this day. Perhaps the perpetrators know how to hide it better. Many of them have likely retreated to the internet where they can bully anonymously. Would bullying be impeded if bullies were immediately expelled from school and social media, including the popular girl bullies who neither hit nor kicked but instead ripped on some nerd girl’s appearance or perceived sexuality until she was suicidal? Would it help to publicly flog a bully and his parents in public, baring their asses to a switch as they do in Singapore? I’m thinking bullying would actually get worse in such a universe, because bullies love revenge and will do anything to get it.
 

A bully is a person who feels helpless and scared and hides it. We all feel helpless and scared from time to time, but the bully is one who decides to flip the script in an instinctive bid to gain a better outcome for himself or herself. Such a decision is rarely a conscious one. Bullies perceive success as a zero sum game (most bullies love sports for this reason) where there is no such thing as win-win. There can be only one. Someone must lose and they are terrified they will be the loser. Bullies have no concept of a rising tide lifting all boats. They must build their own astral pyramid at all costs and the only way they know how to do it is as an oppressor who dominates as many little people as can be gathered. Their game is Empire and their obsession is to kill or be killed. Though a bully may be quite intelligent, there is no reasoning with them because they will always shoehorn reality into the Procrustean bed of dominance, hierarchy, and empire-building.
 

Various incarnations of the bully Biff Tannen from Back to the Future movies. The real actor’s name is Thomas F. Wilson.

 

Types of bullies


The Tough
 

The Tough is straightforward and for all his faults, he is the most honest of bullies. He avoids working on his own fear of helplessness by injuring, maiming, and killing others. He is a pirate and a raider. Women can be toughs but men are better at it because they are physically larger and more formidable than women as a rule.
 

The Puppet
 

The puppet is often a cat’s paw for a Tough. His bullying is quieter and indirect, but his actions are often as bad or worse than the tough. The Puppet often acts as a siphon for unearned wealth; he steals. He is often in a high political position or prominently placed within a corporation.
 

Fictional Mean Girls bully Regina George (played by Rachel McAdams) and her bully friends (played by Lacey Chabert and Amanda Seyfried)


The Prom Queen


The Prom Queen is the It Girl. She is addicted to attention and she feels like she will literally die if she does not get plenty of it. Though she is rarely out in the open about her bullying, her clandestine actions do not mean her bullying is ineffective. Most live in fear of crossing her. She is usually not above using violence to enforce her will over others, but she will never dirty her hands by doing it herself unless it is behind closed doors where she thinks nobody can see or find out.


The Madam
 

Bitter, foul, and mean, the madam is either too old to be the Prom Queen or is a never-was who did not have the beauty or talent to become the Prom Queen. She makes the most of what she perceives as reduced circumstances to amass a small army of sycophants and whores. Her court of devotees must constantly walk on eggshells to prove to her that she is beloved, and those who do not toe the line and play into her general insanity are made into targets for her ample wrath.
 

The Order Follower


The only thing the Order Follower fears more than his imagined Apocalypse if everyone does not follow the rules is the idea of facing himself and his mea culpas in discursive meditation. He loves fear porn and marinates in whatever the nice man on TV has to say as long as the fear juice keeps flowing. His masochism and love of being cucked turns to sadism when he encounters an opposing person of free will. He wants uniformity at all costs so he can avoid thinking about why and how he causes his own misery.
 

The Nightmare


The Nightmare is a mini-version of the tough who acts as a petty tyrant. His chosen targets are his own family and their pets. He is often a wife beater and a child beater and/or molester. Sadly there are many female versions of him. He is a sick, sick person and he gets off on ruining or killing others who dare question his narcissism. To make matters worse, he usually gets away with it.


The Class Clown
 

The Class Clown is an It Boy who is secretly a sociopath. He wears a big smile and whispers under his breath about how he will kill your family and get away with it. If he has a wife or girlfriend, it is usually the Prom Queen and it is a guarantee he will be cheating on her. If she cheats on him, he will become deranged and psychotic. He is more than a little bit gay with all of the attendant anger that goes with repression of one’s own sexual reality. He will always be a prisoner of his own youthful, idealized image of himself as demigod. He does not age well.


The CryBully


The CryBully was mollycoddled from the second she popped out of her mother’s womb. Though she has more privileges and comforts than 99% of the world’s population, she is constantly inventing sob stories about how oppressed she is and the villainy of her oppressors. There is no sweetness in her life that she has not managed to take for granted: potable water, fresh fruit in winter, decent health, wealth that buys ample free time and entertainment as well as food and shelter are all easily forgotten for the outrage du jour that the media pundit told her to be mad about.
 



 




In my next essay, I’ll offer some suggestions as to what can be done about bullies. I have a great deal on my plate so I do not know if I’ll get Part 2 out by next week. If I don’t, thanks for understanding.

kimberlysteele: (Default)

I am happy to read your Ogham free of charge -- that's how I hone my divination skills.  Please limit your reading request to four or fewer Ogham cards: though this can take many forms, here are some common ones (all of them are basically combos of 4 cards):
 
-a single three card reading for the week or month and a one-off, one card reading
-four questions about four separate items that require one answer (card) per item
-a one card reading to answer a specific question and a three card for a more nuanced question
-Two separate readings, two cards a piece exploring the positives and negatives of two different choices
 
I am happy to do Ogham readings confidentially via email -- just email me at k steele studio at gmail during the allotted time/before deadline.  I cannot answer health questions.  If you have a question about health or another sensitive, private matter, provide a bunch of non-identifying information and the Ogham will be able to figure it out even if I don't. I'm serious... the Ogham actually tend to "know" things without me being privy to what is going on.

Please note I take time off during Solstices and Equinoxes for Druid stuff and because sometimes I simply need a break

My next planned break is from Saturday, March 22, 2025 - Friday, March 28, 2025.

I take reading requests from whenever this post goes up on Friday night until 8pm US Central Time Saturday.  

For a more in depth look into how I read and interpret the Ogham's symbols, please visit my website druidogham.wordpress.com.

I am currently trying to minimize my use of PayPal.  If you'd like to make a donation, I would be grateful if you did it here:

http://buymeacoffee.com/kimberlysteele

Your prayers of blessing to the deity/deities of your choice are welcome whether or not you can donate.

kimberlysteele: (Default)

I am happy to read your Ogham free of charge -- that's how I hone my divination skills.  Please limit your reading request to four or fewer Ogham cards: though this can take many forms, here are some common ones (all of them are basically combos of 4 cards):
 
-a single three card reading for the week or month and a one-off, one card reading
-four questions about four separate items that require one answer (card) per item
-a one card reading to answer a specific question and a three card for a more nuanced question
-Two separate readings, two cards a piece exploring the positives and negatives of two different choices
 
I am happy to do Ogham readings confidentially via email -- just email me at k steele studio at gmail during the allotted time/before deadline.  I cannot answer health questions.  If you have a question about health or another sensitive, private matter, provide a bunch of non-identifying information and the Ogham will be able to figure it out even if I don't. I'm serious... the Ogham actually tend to "know" things without me being privy to what is going on.

Please note I take time off during Solstices and Equinoxes for Druid stuff and because sometimes I simply need a break

My next planned break is from Saturday, March 22, 2025 - Friday, March 28, 2025.

I take reading requests from whenever this post goes up on Friday night until 8pm US Central Time Saturday.  

For a more in depth look into how I read and interpret the Ogham's symbols, please visit my website druidogham.wordpress.com.

I am currently trying to minimize my use of PayPal.  If you'd like to make a donation, I would be grateful if you did it here:

http://buymeacoffee.com/kimberlysteele

Your prayers of blessing to the deity/deities of your choice are welcome whether or not you can donate.

kimberlysteele: (Default)


The etheric is the most overlooked aspect of our human lives. Ignorance of the etheric plane comprises much of what makes us spiritually and emotionally retarded. The etheric is the plane of energy and life force. It is vitality and animus. The etheric is not human-centric. To see it as revolving around humankind in any way is naive. That said, etheric starvation is the most common human malady of our time, and our species is responsible for most etheric devastation that exists on the planet at the moment.
 

Two types of etheric flows made the Universe — etheric yin and etheric yang. Yang expands outward away from itself and yin draws inward towards its own center. Yang embarks upon expeditions and seeks receptive eggs. Yin is the center of gravity and seeks to pull the outside towards itself like a magnet. The sun shines his light far and wide. The moon reflects light while captivating the oceans to follow her in the form of tides. Yin contains yang within itself and yang contains yin within itself.
 


A plant-xample

All fruits are the seed bearing part of the plant. Cucumbers and squash are fruits just as much as apples and strawberries are fruits. Fruit itself is very feminine or yin, because like yin, it carries seeds. When we trace fruit back to the flower from whence it came, the flower is also yin. Flowers are receptive on the physical plane, but the means they employ as lures, scent and color, are yang on the etheric plane. Pollen is the floral equivalent of sperm. Plants thrust yang parts out of their flowers called stamens covered with pollen. These stamens surround a receptive female organ called a pistil. Once the flower has been pollinated, it retreats into a yin state, drawing into itself and encapsulating what will become the seed or seeds. Petals fall off, the stem hardens and becomes brittle, and walls go up surrounding the fertilized pollen. The former flower swells around the seed with padding known as fruit. The seed is encased in robes of feminine flesh. Yang then takes over again as the fruit matures, expanding the flesh outward and falling off the branch, sending out scent and color messages that beckon “eat me”. The fruit is eaten, either by landing in an animal’s receptive, yin mouth or by rotting in fertile, yin soil. The fruit digests away and the yang essence hidden in the seed springs to life, becoming another plant.

You’ll notice that yin and yang are not only crucial to the life process, they are everywhere. One cannot exist without the other. Thoth Hermes Trismegistus left us with the statement “as above, so below”. Every natural law works as a function of fractals or ripples, and we meat bags of mostly water have but one hope in learning esoteric knowledge: we have to figure out how to recognize patterns.
 

Children and old folks

I recently saw a TikTok ad that was designed to make me feel insecure and diseased because I am past menopause. The ad featured a pretty, forty-something woman who was probably AI speaking gibberish about losing one’s cookies. Against my better judgement, I commented “Oh honey, menopause is amazing. I don’t miss my periods and I don’t miss being young.” In short, “You have no power over me”. Yes, menopause sucks for those who think looking 21 at age 51 is a good idea. Once the sex hormones start to wane, age starts writing itself all over the face and body. Things sag and wrinkle. Freckles, spots, and moles darken and enlarge. Perky muscle tone, once effortless, becomes a real chore that requires real effort. In other words, the body succumbs to yin forces and begins to visibly die. In a civilization that denies and hates the Divine Feminine that rules all the yin aspects of life, aging is cause for a freak out. Getting old is considered a disease, and the mad scientist transhumanists would like to cure it for all eternity, never grokking that for the new to be born, the old must wither and die. All of science has thrown itself at the rejection of death. Science is now a game of trying to go around Nature. “Surely we can improve where Nature fails!” they rally, dragging along a collection of septic perversions like the N.I.C.E. camp in C.S. Lewis’s That Hideous Strength. Science worships demons at this point; they don’t even need the Goetia. Those who are terrified of aging and death are terrified by those who are unafraid of aging and death. Like the Skeksis in Jim Henson’s The Dark Crystal, they have become monsters in the quest for eternal youth, never understanding they already have it, if only they could allow their bodies to age and die without getting upset.


Old people are naturally yin on the etheric. Once we die, we are completely yin on the etheric. Women are etheric males and men are etheric females during adulthood. I am very much a woman, and like most women, I am an etheric male. This means that I dump my copious yang energy on the etheric. My etheric masculinity tends to take the form of traditional woman’s work such as teaching, tidying, cooking, and healing. Men are more forceful or yang on the physical plane, and this is why they are physically tougher, larger, and frankly uglier than women. They are better at fighting, construction, and what Mike Rowe called “dirty jobs”. Men are yin on the etheric, which makes them enthusiastic recipients of etheric yang. The key to a man’s heart is through his stomach, especially if he lacks the etheric yang talent to cook himself a decent meal.
 

All children begin physical life as females in the womb. One fact that modern science forgets and overlooks out of ignorance is that physical females are etheric males. We all begin life in utero as yin beings with yang energy. Children are only born of women because the yin being is the part that physically splits off when conception occurs. The yin creates the fruit and the yang, the little used-up spermatozoon, provides the life force. Children are technically female until puberty no matter what their physical sex, which makes them etheric males. Boys are indistinguishable from girls until sex hormones break the spell of childhood. Unless there is precocious puberty, a nine year old boy looks and sounds like his female peers.
 

Children under attack

As much as media likes to wax poetic about the sanctity of infants and children, no group has been more utterly thrown under the bus. Infants and children are yang on the etheric, being essentially female on the physical plane. There is always a spectrum, of course, and a hyperactive child who loves bright colors and yelling is more yang on the etheric than the quiet, bookworm child. Unsurprisingly, children need lots of play, exploration, and testing of the new.
 

The current predicament of our civilization is to starve en masse on the etheric, and that is why hordes are drawn to the abundant yang energy of children like moths to a flame. Pedophilia has never been so astonishingly brutal and commonplace. Pedophilia is a method of cracking the child like an etheric egg and slurping down the resulting energy.
 

Girls will be boys

Whether an XX chromosome person (a woman) tries to appear as an XY person (a man) or it is the other way around, transexualism mainly results in an erasure of maleness. Transexualism is rooted in fear of the Sacred Masculine. When a biological female attempts to transition into a male, she invariably ends up as a beta. Her fantasy expectation is to be the hot guy and her reality is to be a balding, potbellied, wide-hipped creep with a micropenis. She will always be a masculine-looking woman, and there are plenty of those who did not need to amputate their breasts or get a hysterectomy to achieve the same vibe. When a biological male attempts to transition into a female, he also invariably ends up as a beta. Femininity is far more than its obvious signs. I am all woman, but I don’t have large breasts or lush eyelashes. His fantasy expectation will to become a bombshell of patchworked girlie-girl stereotypes and his reality will be to look like an effeminate man.
 

Transexuals believe they can achieve vibrant, attention-getting, florescent colors via a sex change and they routinely end up the same shade of grubby beige. The reason for the failure of transexuals is the etheric plane. The polarity of etheric maleness crashing against physical and astral femininity is what makes men manly and women womanly. A man without a hyper-feminine etheric body, whether or not he is trans, presents as an unattractive dullard. A woman without copious etheric maleness will present as butch whether she likes it or not. When a person alters his or her hormones and/or amputates and reshapes body parts, their etheric body is diminished and etheric starvation becomes acute as there is lessened polarity to replenish it.
 

Virile studs compared to their modern counterparts

Modernity, maleness, and feminization

Industrialization and its onslaught of chemicals has resulted in large numbers of effeminate men and masculine women without the assistance of trans drugs and surgeries. When petroleum toxins are introduced into the environment, feminization is an observable scientific result in animal populations. Plasticizers known as phthalates have a nasty habit of not biodegrading. When plasticizers stick around, they wreak havoc by mimicking estrogen. Balls don’t drop and sperm are damaged and few. Girls and women don’t escape either — periods start early and polycystic ovary syndrome makes them a living hell. Girls are not developing into feminine women with yang etheric bodies. Boys are not developing into masculine men with yin etheric bodies. Sex is not as binary as it used to be, thanks to plastic chemical damage. Sperm counts have never been lower. The average young man of today has the sperm count of an 80 year old Victorian gentleman with mojo (or lack thereof) to match.

When men remain trapped in perpetual childhood due to a failure to develop their maleness, it is called neotony. Neotony is considered desirable in women as it makes them more childlike and feminine — do yourself a favor and avoid plugging neotony into a search engine — but in men, it is less desirable.
 

Release a domesticated pig into the wild and it will develop tusks, a bristly coat, and a tougher hide. Within a few generations, the pink piggies from the farm will spawn only fierce, wild boars.
 

Men have become soft and pink, eternally juvenile, and insecure. They will remain in the state of Puer Aeternis until initiation rites are brought back into vogue, whether by choice or by force. Harsh circumstances and having to bust ass from an early age (along with a resistance to plastic chemicals) forces the maturation process in humans as well as pigs and other animals, making a man larger, tougher, and more potent on the physical plane while feminizing him on the etheric, a.k.a. making him a chick magnet.
 

Women have become tough ballbusters, unable to rest in their femininity. This is a condition of being forced to take on men’s roles as men either opt or are forced into a state of weakness. Women fake neotony quite well and the damage of etheric starvation is not as obvious, but make no mistake, it is still there. Due to an excess of estrogen-impersonators in the environment, girls go through puberty at eight and nine instead of twelve and fourteen. Instead of invigorating the male etheric body, early puberty dilutes it, an that is why so many girls are shiftless, confused, desperate, and depressed during what should be a vital, joyous time of their lives.

As I have often said, etheric starvation will not truly abate until the last computer sputters the last line of code and the last plane falls out of the sky. There are also many plastic chemicals that will be around for at least ten thousand years, making hell for human beings. Modernity is a bitch and we are here, swimming in it. Science has completely fallen short of understanding the energy plane, dismissing it as woo. Yet the energy or etheric plane holds the key to all scientific understanding. Energy is everything and everything is energy, and even G.I. Joe admits that knowing is half the battle.

kimberlysteele: (Default)

I am happy to read your Ogham free of charge -- that's how I hone my divination skills.  Please limit your reading request to four or fewer Ogham cards: though this can take many forms, here are some common ones (all of them are basically combos of 4 cards):
 
-a single three card reading for the week or month and a one-off, one card reading
-four questions about four separate items that require one answer (card) per item
-a one card reading to answer a specific question and a three card for a more nuanced question
-Two separate readings, two cards a piece exploring the positives and negatives of two different choices
 
I am happy to do Ogham readings confidentially via email -- just email me at k steele studio at gmail during the allotted time/before deadline.  I cannot answer health questions.  If you have a question about health or another sensitive, private matter, provide a bunch of non-identifying information and the Ogham will be able to figure it out even if I don't. I'm serious... the Ogham actually tend to "know" things without me being privy to what is going on.

Please note I take time off during Solstices and Equinoxes for Druid stuff and because sometimes I simply need a break

My next planned break is from Saturday, March 22, 2025 - Friday, March 28, 2025.

I take reading requests from whenever this post goes up on Friday night until 8pm US Central Time Saturday.  

For a more in depth look into how I read and interpret the Ogham's symbols, please visit my website druidogham.wordpress.com.

I am currently trying to minimize my use of PayPal.  If you'd like to make a donation, I would be grateful if you did it here:

http://buymeacoffee.com/kimberlysteele

Your prayers of blessing to the deity/deities of your choice are welcome whether or not you can donate.

kimberlysteele: (Default)
Comet by Eoworfindir


When you die, you are always given many choices, just as you are given choices while you still live. As someone who speaks to the dead, let me reassure you that an entire unseen ecosystem surrounds you at all times. The only difference between the after-death state and Meatworld is that the ecosystem becomes much more visible and perceivable because you don’t carry the albatross of your Meatworld body.
 

After physical death, your subtle bodies (also known as the eternal soul) undergo a series of baptisms as your perception is re-opened to the real world. Meatworld is a spacetime illusion. It is like the reflection a mirror. The scenery behind the layer of glass looks real enough until you try to walk into it.
 

Goodbye, cruel world!

So imagine if you followed the advice of a certain nihilist influencer and upon dying, you reject the light, run away from your loved ones who are calling out to you, and instead choose to run towards the Void. The influencer informed you that evil space lizard gods have been farming you for your soul energy for all your countless lifetimes on Meatworld. Said lizard devil-gods wash your memory each time so you’ll continue being their compliant livestock. Meatworld sucks, lending hefty credence to the notion that it is all a scam, along with those pesky religious recommendations to be a good person and to do unto others as you would yourself. Nah, all that do-gooder stuff is for suckers. You believe this influencer until the day you are hit by a bus and croak.
 

Perhaps part of you believes that as you run towards the Void, the gods will catch you and say “No, you’re not allowed to do that!” Since you are convinced that all deities are scheming space lizards out for your blood energy, you are quite surprised as the light fades, the tunnel recedes into the distance, the glowing door vaporizes, and the voices of all those you have ever loved, including your beloved pets, are squelched in an abyss of silence. The Divine won’t stop you from being engulfed by the Void if is that is what you choose. You are and have always been autonomous. As it turns out, you can have your Void and eat it too, but don’t be shocked if what you thought were open arms are actually open jaws.
 

We are murderers by m0oranshi


The Void is a vacuum and nature abhors a vacuum. The Void wants you in it and always beckons. Humans are not the smartest creatures and our intelligence is somewhere between plankton and demigods. If you reject Meatworld’s school, it will happily let you go, but you will remain a spiritual retard with a Dunning-Kruger approach to the learning process. When you reject Earth while presuming the grass is greener in the Void, the Void will sweep you away, far from the soul swarm in which you incarnated to other planets and other universes. These could be heavenly depending on the frequency at which you vibrate. Odds are that your vibration is more of one of despair and arrogance, and there are plenty of planets, timelines, and universes ready to match you note for note with more of the same. Just because a planet is not Earth does not make it good, and there are many places that are far more harsh and hostile to your type of soul, which after all was incarnated on Earth because that is the ecosystem to which it is best suited. The lore around comets is very useful to study here, as comets have long been associated with bad omens and demonic beings.
 

Let’s hear it for the Void

The Void has a much stronger pull than the light, especially if you vibrate in sympathy to other beings who have chosen to wander it. The pull of the Void is so strong, you don’t have to wait until the end of your life to partake in it. In fact, most people are swayed heavily by the Void’s gravitational pull, which is especially true in our current materialistic, demonic age. It is actually far more difficult to resist the Void, because resisting the Void requires the Apollonian virtues of knowing yourself and exercising moderation in all things.

To jump into the Void right now, all you need to do is cut off and abandon every connection and friend who cannot help you in the purely material sense. Those souls at the other end of the doorway are also right here and now; give up on them and you make it much easier to leave them behind later. Refuse to see the beauty of anyone or anything unless it is an acknowledgement of superficial glamour or sex appeal. All beauty is the light and the light is supposed to be false, provided by the Archons as a fake out. Sequester yourself on a metaphorical island of parsimony, expending the bare minimum of energy it takes to stay afloat, abandoning all work if it means being inconvenienced or if it involves sacrificing your precious time for a greater cause. Grab all the wealth you can, never questioning how it got into your bank account. You won’t have to wait for the Void or travel to the Void because you will be the Void.

When the next comet comes around, you’ll feel its gravitational pull, which exists on the astral plane as well as the physical plane. The comet will seem even more promising than the Void and you will find that others who have chosen to exempt themselves from Earth and its natural laws will be magnetized by it along with you. Sociopaths, serial rapists, pedophiles, ritual Satanists, various murderers, and hoarders of unearned wealth will jump on board thinking they are going home, and in a sense, they will be going home. You, the aforementioned group, and the others who believed the influencer over their own guts will hitch a fast, free ride to lands far, far away from Earth. It is highly doubtful you’ll be back again. That said, be careful what you wish for.
 

What is karma?

The challenge of karma is to understand it is not a set of arbitrary laws put in place as a measure of sadism. Karma is another word for consequences. It is also known as cause and effect. I’m sad to have to say this: the point of incarnation is not to run away from incarnation because evilly evil space lizards are forcing you to live your worst lives. The point of consequences for your actions is to forge you into a being who is brave and strong enough to consistently be better than you were yesterday, if only by the slightest bit.
 

Forsaking the rest and grace that comes after a Meatworld incarnation for the promise of adventures and free-dumb in the Void is like being saved from starvation only to vomit the contents of your life-saving meal into the nearest toilet. Go ahead and gag yourself, but don’t expect it to end well.
 

Light Domain by Miguel Santos


I don’t claim to be an expert and I could always be wrong, but from I can tell, it is up to us to suss out the beauty in an ugly time. It is our duty to make the best out of what we are given, even when what is given looks like a trash heap. With enough spiritual work, the blinders are removed while we still toil on Meatworld, and that is how I can converse with the dead and remember a patchwork of my own past lives, including some of my past lives as geese and cats.

When I die, I am going to skip hitching a ride deep into the Void. No comets for me, thanks. Instead, I will enjoy having my Second Sight turned back into my First Sight. I especially look forward to communing with my soul swarm and the higher selves of the family and friends I have had during incarnation. I’m looking forward to seeing my Dad again. While I am here, I will love the seasons and I will embrace the spirits of the land, for I am one with them. I will never give up the Great Work in despair. I will persevere like the drop of water that became a creek that became the Grand Canyon. I will ratio my hatred with love. I will stay on the Path, no matter how lonely and difficult, and I will trust in the Divine. I hope you’ll join me.

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Kimberly Steele

December 2025

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