It's been an interesting couple of weeks of ups and downs. The partner and I celebrated #Samhain, and honored her dead sister. I set up an altar in our living room, and the partner cooked her sister's favorite meal. We set a place for the sister at the table, made an offering of plum wine and cake, and dished up a plate of food for her.

During the meal, partner told us stories about their childhood together, and other memories of her sister. After the meal, I cleaned up, and took the offering and the sister's plate, and buried it all in the front yard, to give it to the earth.

I expected it to be a tearful dinner, but my partner seemed to get that out as she was cooking the meal, and dinner was a happier affair. She seems to be a bit more at peace about her sister's death now, but I think this will be a regular thing on Samhain for a few years.

The following days, moving toward election day here in the US, were a bit depressing. I couldn't escape the feeling that it was going to go badly, very badly. I've felt that might be the case for the last year or so. When election day came and went, and went as I expected, I was not at all surprised, but too upset to feel validated that I'd been right. I wanted to be wrong.

The ramifications of this election, and the kicking off of #Project2025, are farther reaching than we can possibly predict. I have a lot of thoughts, the least of which is that this is what my country is, and always has been. Those of us that are not racist, not homophobic, not angry, not hateful, and not Christian... we are in the minority. The USA, as a collective, living thing, is the embodiment of all the worst aspects of humanity.

Rest assured, during the next world-wide conflict, WW3 if that's what you want to call it, the USA will not be the good guys. I do not want to still be in this country when that happens. Myself and my partner, my brother and a few of our cousins, have been laying plans since Bush Jr's second term. This has prompted us to start making some forward movement. We're at least five years out from being able to do much of anything, but we can start making preparations. Leaving this country is expensive, and a giant pain in the ass.

However, the biggest thing on my mind, the thing that led me to close this site down for a few days during a moment of panic, is that this is only going to encourage the resurgence of the #SatanicPanic. It's already in full swing, under the mask of QAnon and everything they have their tentacles into. With the proliferation of Wicca (I am not a Wiccan, just for the record), pagans, occultists, and all practitioners of Witchcraft have been lulled into a false sense of security and acceptance by society. At the moment, it's less dangerous to be a witch, but that is going to change. Project 2025 will make sure of that, and if they get their way with US law enforcement, we will see people sent to prison, or worse, for practicing.

I have never been “out”. Not ever. I remember very vividly what it was like being on the other side of the Satanic Panic, during the 1980s. Now I'm on this side of things, and I know what's going to be coming for people like me. We'll be the scapegoat again, the target of anger and hate, and now there is a digital paper trail for every witchcraft related thing you've ever purchased online, or in person with a credit card.

Something good did happen though. I got a visit from Sara last night. I was in a beachside town. I don't know if it was dusk, or just an overcast day, but it was gray that way. I was with some friends, none of whom I can remember. We were planning on spending the night there, and deciding who was going to room with whom. I was paired up with a woman, who I apparently knew, and she and I started heading for the building where we'd be sleeping. I think it was part of a motel.

We walked outside, and there was a sidewalk down a grassy hill to the street. We got a few steps down that sidewalk, and I turned to look at the woman, and there was Sara. Long dark hair, like last time. She smiled a big smile, and hugged me. That hug was particularly vivid. I felt her arms around me, smelled her hair against my face, and felt her warmth against me. It was a long, comforting hug.

We walked for a bit, talking. She joked with me, we both laughed. I don't remember all the details of the conversation, but she was just there to spend some time with me, and comfort me. The dream quickly moved on, before we arrived at our destination, and Sara was gone.

It worked. I woke up this morning, immediately sat up, and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. I felt good, rejuvenated. It was Sara, without a doubt. I tried to recall as many details as I could. I should have written it all down, but I haven't kept a notebook by the bed in years. If I was in immediate danger, she would have told me. She didn't though. She was checking in on me, and that's all.

That hug, though, that really sticks out. I can't express just how unusually vivid it was, which is how it always feels when Sara visits my dreams.

The rest of the day has been a mixed bag. I ran errands, played video games, got this site back online, and did a bit of housework. The partner is feeling under the weather, so she stayed in bed, and played on the PS4 most of the day.

I've been slowly compiling a to-do list. I need to refresh the sigils around the house, and whip up a few jars for various purposes. I don't feel safe at work, and I've been contemplating putting a system of sigils around the building where I work, and burying a few jars. I didn't feel safe there during Trump's first term, and I feel even less so now.

Back at it tomorrow.

#Witchcraft

-Tom Blueleaf