Yes! Yes! and Yes!
I'm not jusr writer but also magus, adept at spelling, prone to mischievousness.
One can feel magic in the spelling of the wyrd.
As a child who went through SRA, I cannot do NOTHING, I'm under constant attack... So I strike out at this abomination by spelling in curseive. Inverting inversions with wyrds not meant for polite company. I am a greyworker, I'm not afraid to get my hands dark in sevice to the Prime Creator.
Does it work? Oh yes! Just last week the phone harassment was ridiculous. It got nastier as they grew bolder, it culminated in them calling as the IRS.threatening me with ruin and prison. When I refused to fear, when I stayed present in my back body/intuitive mind and he could not bring my consciousness to the forebrain where they implant and manipulate. He SCREAMED at me "F*CK YOU!!!!" and threw the phone as I heard a crash and it went dead.
I barely started spelling to appeal for help when help arrived. I started giggling mischievously, Shaking his head he said fondly "my little imp." They messed with the wrong chicken one too many times, Papa Legba is stepping in!" (The Rothschild family call me chicken, as in fowl, not scared, they know better)...I pause this recollection to tell you about the day I met Papa Legba and that may shed light on why he was so protective....besides the fact that he despises them for their stolen, corrupt voodoo, with no respect for the Spirits, contempt for the Priests. They use voodoo because it operates in the Quantum field....
In this mortal coil, yet 5 lifetimes ago, in my travels I meet a man at a crossroads outside of New Orleans. I traveled light just the pack on my back, yet my burden was heavy, not a friend in this world not even myself. He was sitting on a big flat rock drinking a bottle of rum, he patted the rock beside him as said in a Caribbean accent "take a load off Fanny! Come sit with me and drink rum." Strangers did not scare me, the stranger the better, living on the edge, caution bedammed. He was certainly strange, Top hat adorned with a band of gator teeth? Claws?, beads, a feather, dreads, gray stubbled face, dark vest dark pants and pointy toe boots with a bandanna tied around one. He told me his name, of course it was strange. I said mine, I told him a lie. I walked up to a stranger who reached out, a chivalrous hand up, and sat down to a friend.
The conversation. We talked about subjects I normally thought about while smiling and nodding through "normal" conversations.When I confessed that, man, did he laugh! He had a laugh...man...he had a laugh, his whole body committed to. Talk about wyrds, spelling, and magic! He pulled out a spleef, we shared like his rum. I took a long draw, and had ask, "this is so lovely did you get it, from the garden of the gods?" He shook his head, laughed and said "you. are. So. Close. !" He was telling me about voodoo, how the priest blew smoke, he showed me and he wasn't kidding, never seen so much smoke! As it cleared, I saw him see me. Head cocked to the side, eyes squinting from the smoke. "Cherie, do you remember my name?" I started singing Big E. Smalls, "I love it when she calls me big Papa...Legba...Papa...Legba." He cocked his head, kinda pursed his lips, gave me a little side eye, his whole body was shaking from the mirth he was holding in, he released laughter, it was magic, the air was charged with...him.
The sky was getting lighter, I wished it wouldn't end. I told him that his kindness made all the difference in my world, I hugged him goodbye, stood on my tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. He hugged me tight and said "you are Papa Legba's family now, no goodbyes, I will see my little imp again." I didn't even know where I'd sleep that night,we would lose contact,know I was distressed. I asked "how will you find me?" He kissed the top of my head and said "ask Mr. Benoit at the Crossroads Bar in the next town, a dear friend of mine, he'll know...hey little imp? Cherie? You may not believe in voodoo but voodoo believes in you!" A dip of his head, a touch on his brim, with his chivalrous gesture, I blew a kiss and we went our own way. I traveled light, just the pack on my back, my burden was lifted, thankful for my friend, feeling blessed.
I stopped in the next town at the Crossroads bar. Imagine my wonder when Mr Benoit, the Voudon, told me all about who Papa Legba is.
Some 30 years later, our bond is deep as family, tight as friends.
Papa tells me what to type as he stands behind me, a protective hand on my shoulder, breath hot. as seething anger is woven into the spelling. They like my posts so we know they follow me... The personal message from Papa Legba to them "Big Trouble"
The next day I get a message from a white hat "new illuminati" that I am friendly with. He tells me that they are going to quit harassing me, it was his task to tell me. The new plan quickly emerges. The new Iluminati's doors are open to me. I could be a part of healing from past mistakes, the knowledge I sought to be inverted to light...all is open, they await your contact, and send deep regards.
A week later, they still wait. Continuously they underestimate me. do they think there's even a remote possibility? That I do not see straight through that?
I'm still not sure what Papa wove into the Wyrds he spoke, Polar Shift in tactic. I'm not sure what he did, but I sure hear him laughing.
Demon? I'm a Damn Goddess!
Why does the light shy from the darkness?
Open your eye, see the unbelievable
Open you heart, duality is, necessary evil
The patriarchy fears most, what I most prize
Demon? Oh darling, whilst you judge~I Rise!