Anyhow, I need to get a grip, make things happen. Because we’re the ones who hold ourselves back, right? And I’ve been in a holding pattern for a while now. Stuck. Unable to see the next move, the right move, clearly.
Right? Rite! That’s what I needed. Something to figure out where I was going wrong; why I was being blocked (blocking myself); to get to the bottom of what I didn’t understand. Magick. Shit yeah.
Magick (with a k to distinguish from the rabbits out of hats malarkey). Call it summoning powers and entities and whatever. Or call it, if you prefer, getting in touch with your higher self, the part that isn’t a bonkers numpty. The part that knows. Oh, call it whatever you like. It really doesn't matter.
Anyhow. While the world was whizzing around getting in a tizzy over politicians and journalists (umm, short aside: why did it all come as such a surprise, eh?) I cut off. Did my thing. Went dark and witchy.
Candles were lit. Incense billowed. Circles were cast. Sigils were drawn. Shadows danced.
Questions were asked. Requirements were discussed.
It’s always a bit precarious and I’m wary about this summoning business now. I used to demand; now I request. I used to think I knew exactly what I needed: now I ask to receive what I need.
Sometimes uncanny coincidences (hmm) occur. Sometimes the universe has a stonking great belly laugh at your expense.
I’m not ashamed to admit I’m strapped for cash right now (holding patterns are crap for generating income). While debating all kinds of deep and meaningful spiritual questions, I threw in a small request for some dosh. Okay, hands up, the lottery crossed my mind. How much could I ask for? In the end I went for the fall-back position (just as a test really) – let me win (no earning required) exactly what I needed.
And I bought a Euromillions ticket.
So, today the SP and I were going up to the hillfort and we stopped at the shop and bought a drink and a packet of sweets. I fumbled in my pocket for the right change: £2.60.
‘Ooh, hang about. Check my ticket will ya?’ I said to the girl serving.
She went over to the machine and turned back. ‘Hey, you’ve won!’
My heart leapt. ‘What?’
‘Yeah. But don’t get too excited.’
She handed me my winnings. You’ve guessed, right? Yeah. £2.60. Ho bloody ho.