#but then someone like YOU comes along and plants little seeds in my rotting brain | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cecilspeaks · 5 years ago

Text

166 - Delta

The stars tell us our future. They’re rarely correct, but yet there they are, blathering on night after night. Welcome to Night Vale.

At the foot of a sandy hill, a woman explains to her son what a flower is. She’s pointing at an orange starburst atop a squat bulbous cactus. She says: “Flowers are beautiful, aren’t they?” I cannot hear what her son says. She answers: “Because bees like beautiful things and flowers want the bees to take their pollen, that little bit of yellow powder, right down there inside, and give it to other plants, so they can grow up and be beautiful too.” There’s a long pause. Then she says: “Nature wants to make more and more beauty all the time. That’s all it wants to do. If it is not beautiful, it cannot live.” She’s upset at her son’s next question. “Humans wish to make beauty too, but not for nature,” she snaps. “They want computers and airplanes and factories, oh Benny, don’t touch.” She sighs. Then she says: “The cactus hurt you, didn’t it? The cactus knows you’re human and it does not want you to watch it, and now it has let you know that, you won’t touch it again, will you? No Benny, you won’t.”

Underneath the scant shade of a dilapidated wing of an MD-90 aircraft, a middle aged man tells another middle aged man about a time he went to New Orleans. He thought the French Quarter was too crowded and the jazz scene overrated, so he drove east along the upper neck of the Mississippi Delta to a Swapshack, where he paid a man 50 dollars to take him on a hovercraft to look at alligators. “Such majestic and hideous creatures,” the middle aged man says to the other. “You know, when I was little, I cried thinking about how I would never see a real live dinosaur. All the world had left were bones. But right there in southern Louisiana lay dozens of living dinosaurs. It’s an extraordinary world when you finally realize that all life is magic,” he says. The other middle aged man had heard the story dozens of times, but still he replies: “I hear you, I hear you.”

A young woman thinks about a job interview she never attended. She is happy without that job, yet she feels regret for what could have been. “I cannot imagine myself behind a desk making spreadsheets and memos,” she says to no one. “But I cannot imagine a 5-dimensional horse, nor the width of the void, nor the language of whales. I cannot imagine a lot of things but the pay, the pay would have been pretty good.”

Behind a blighted Palo Verde Tree, hidden between lush acacia shrubs, two teenaged boys kiss for the 50th time or so. It is brief, as one stops to look around, on alert for overbearing parents. They kiss for the 51st time or so and then laugh. Their fingers clumsily fumbling over each other, trying to decide on the perfect grip, the perfect touch. They melt like marshmallows in the flame of inexperienced joy. This moment in their lives is as pure and powerful as they have ever felt and may ever feel again.

My mind is crowded with voices, with people living their lives all day listeners. these are the stories, they are eating fruit and playing cards. They are arguing about who said what and when. They are meditating and conversing, retelling old shows and books they remember from when they had such things. A copy of Tina Fey’s memoir “Bossy Pants” was found in a suitcase seven years ago, and everyone in the group has read it at least once. Someone mutters that they used to have a copy of Karen Russel’s “Swamplandia!”. It was in her purse when they landed here, but someone won’t own up to stealing it. another says the book might have been used to make a fire one night, because whoever made the fire might have thought the owner was done reading it, hypothetically.

It’s been several days since the voices came into my head, and at first it was new and interesting, but already I have grown tired of it. I do not know how Amelia Anna Alfaro lived her whole life with these sounds in her mind. It’s unceasing and I’ve not gotten much sleep. The teenage lovers sneak away each night to hold hands and talk big dreams underneath the moon. It’s sweet and romantic, but at 2 AM, give it a rest boys! I could try to talk back, but none of the voices can hear me. It’s like asking the rain to return to its cloud. But when I talk to Carlos, the voices go way. Thankfully I have my greatest peace when I’m with my favorite person. I can’t keep Carlos awake at all hours or have him skip work to be with me, so I have to learn to make peace with the voices, as they are noisy but permanent room mates in my brain now.

I do have news to report, but it’s mostly stuff you already know about. The high school basketball team has tryouts on Saturday. The library is doing open mic poetry nights on Tuesdays at 7, and we all know it’s a trap. Don’t do it unless you’re well armed. And the Opera House is extending its run of Verdi’s “2 Fast 2 Furious”, starring Renée Fleming, through the end of the month.

It’s hard to concentrate on reading these news stories with so much other language running through my head. Like this: there’s a guy who’s complaining about metal scraps that haven’t been cleaned, and the woman he’s talking to is explaining that they are conserving water for drinking and the guy is saying that it’s unsanitary to make dining utensils out of dirty metal, and she replies that they’re not making any more forks or spoons, they don’t need any more forks or spoons, they need knives but not for eating. What am I supposed to do with this information, it’s been going on nonstop for days? You cannot possibly understand what its’ like to listen to someone you don’t know, who you’ve never even met, who you can’t even see, ramble on and on about their boring personal life straight into your head, it’s awful. I can hear another person saying he’s found something. Good for you pal, way to find another rock or stick or lizard or whatever.

Wait. “Weeeee have founnnnnd ittt,” the voice says. I know this voice. It’s the first voice that’s been familiar to me, where do I know this voice, he is saying “first weeeeeeeee found you. You who are – no where – now weeeeeee have founnnnnnnd itt.” And other men are barking in agreement. Listeners, that voice is Doug Biondi from the asylum, and the voices around him are the agents from the National Safety and Transportation Bureau, all of whom escaped the Night Vale Asyulm two months ago. They are in nowhere, in an otherworld desert standing near a door attached to no building. Not far from a passenger set, long since rotted away. A jet that has been home to 143 passengers and crew members, one of those 143 – the pilot. Asylum warden Charles Rainier warned us of this. He had been a been a passenger on that plane, he became part of a small commune that grew into an angry cult under the leadership and telepathic influence of the pilot. Charles told us that the pilot would find those who could help him find Night Vale. Help him find the real world, and Doug Biondi knows the way back.

The pilot found Doug and Doug found the pilot. “Iii know the wayyy,” Doug Biondi says, laughing the laugh of a man whose smile is too big for his face. At the foot of a sandy hill, a mother tells her son it is time. “Stop crying, Benny. Stop crying so that there will be more flowers, more beauty.”

Underneath the scant shade of a dilapidated wing of an MD-90 air craft, two middle aged men argue over which hand made axe is sharper. At last, they agree that the one crafted from the rotor flap and held together with the hand belt is the better blade. “No you take it,” one says. “No, I insist you, I’m happy to use the smaller axe,” the other says, “because it is easier to manage what with my back spasms.”

And behind a blighted Paolo Verde Tree, hidden between lush acacia shrubs, two teenage boys kiss the way you kiss when you think it may be your last. They whisper impossible promises and raise high their rusty shovels, the spades’ tips having already been sharpened to deadly points. They race toward the gathering crowd.

A young woman who thinks often about the job interview she never attended shouts: “Nature is beauty!” “We are beauty!” replies antoher woman. They repeate these calls. “Nature is beauty! We are beauty!” And now every voice in my head is chanting the phrases, chanting and chanting and chanting, it’s too… it’s too much!

Silence. They’re silent suddenly. My head is clear. I can think my own thoughts.

Night Vale, I’m getting word that Sheriff Sam is barring all known passages into our town. This includes roads, trails, sewer grates, even the Dog Park which is not officially an entrance to the Desert Otherworld, but you know, let’s be honest here. We’re on lockdown, Night Vale. No one enters or leaves.

Good. This is good. If the voices can reach me, they can reach any of us. In fact, if the voices can enter my mind, then the pilot and passengers of flight 18713 may well already be here, or some of them anyway. Or maybe the voices come and go. This is the first moment of silence I’ve had alone in nearly a week. Maybe the voices aren’t always there like, like radio signals as you leave a city or, or a cell phone in an elevator, maybe the voices can’t permeate us under certain conditions or maybe… Or maybe… The voices are silent because… they are listening. Maybe they’re listening to their leader, their pilot who is giving instructions on what to do next, when and where to attack.

I don’t know. But I must use my moment of clarity to tell you some news. Nope, the voices are back. A single voice is back. I know, without knowing, that it is the voice of the pilot. He says: [in a neutral tone] “Uh, hi there, this is your pilot speaking. Just wanted to let you know that nature is beauty, we are beauty. We propagate our pollen, we spread our seeds, we grow new life over old life, we cleanse the toxins of technology. We depose the human king and return natural instinct to its rightful throne. If you can hear my voice, then you are chosen. You are chosen to join all who join our nature. All who join our beauty. All who refuse will be recycled into the earth, destroyed and dispersed to fertilize new more beautiful life. All those who are beautiful are chosen. All those who are not, are a cancer, blight, infection and disease. All who are not beautiful will be cut away, amputated, so that the Earth’s wounds may finally leave, so the Earth may grow beautiful once again.

We have been found and we will return. Open the gates to freedom, end the tyranny of artifice. That’s all for now, we’ll be arriving in just a few moments, Night Vale. There is going to be some turbulence.”

[distraught] I’m sorry, listeners! I did not meant to do that, I did not want to do that! The voice of the pilot overtook me and I, oh, I need to lock myself inside the studio, I have to protect you from me, but first the weather.

[“A Prayer for the Sane” by Danny Schmidt http://dannyschmidt.com]

I brought Carlos to the studio. When I talk to Carlos, I don’t hear the voices of the passengers from 18713. I don’t hear the voices even now as I look directly at Carlos while I’m speaking. Like Charles Rainier’s fishing hole or, or Amelia Anna Alfaro’s puzzles, Carlos grounds me, lets me be wholly me.

Thank you, Carlos.

Oh, I also had Carlos bring a pair of handcuffs with him that he bought at –Target on his way to the station, and used them to shackle me to my desk. If Charles Rainier is correct, then once the pilot can speak to you, he can control you. And if that should happen, it won’t happen but if it should, then now I won’t be able to leave here and do harm to anyone else.

From my window, I can see far down the street a spiral of black smoke. There are flashes of emergency sirens. Now I can see people coming up the road. They are long-haired, sun-scorched and nearly naked, wearing not much more than flat wide-brimmed hats and short tunics fashioned from seat upholstery. These people are carrying large blades, roughly honed from scrap metal. Some have widdled down pieces of plexiglass windows into sharp points and tied them to ends of long sticks. They’re deliberately walking up the hoods of parked cars and smashing windows and caving in the roofs with their bare feet.

It is no doubt that the passengers of 18713 are here, Night Vale. If you can hear me, sty inside and lock your doors. If you can her the pilot, then do as I have done. Secure your position so securely that not even your own mind can talk you out of it. Sheriff Sam has stubbornly kept up all roadblocks in and out of town, so we have no choice but to stay. The long unmoving lines of traffic at the edges of the city are easy prey now for the 18713. The pilot offered the choice of joining or refusing, but it is not a choice, not really. He either can control you or he cannot. Those whom he cannot control will be killed at the hands of those who can.

[anxiously] Carlos? You don’t hear the pilot voice, and thus cannot be controlled. But I do, and I can. I have been controlled. We’re in trouble, Carlos. I can’t stay chained to this desk forever, can I? And if the pilot means to destroy you, he might make – me do it myself. Just promise me you’ll run. Leave me behind if that happens, OK? OK. But for now, do not let me out of these cuffs, not even if I use a safe word, which I hear is something quite a few people use in healthy fun intimate relationships.

The people of 18713 are climbing up storefronts and tearing off signs. I can see about 10 or 15 in normal street clothes in the crowd now, which means the group is growing. They are recruiting quickly.

But something else is eating at me. In the asylum, in Doug Biondi’s journal and among the myriad voices in my mind, I still have not seen nor heard Amelia Anna Alfaro, the first person to make contact with the pilot. She disappeared in 2012 and no one has heard from her since. I need to find her. Somehow, if anyone can solve this, it might be her. She was always the best at everything.

Stay tuned next for the sound of me talking to Carlos forever and ever.

Good night, Night Vale. [creepily] Gooood night.

Today’s proverb: People who live in glass houses shouldn’t hire that realtor again.

#welcome to night vale #welcome to night vale transcripts #episode 166 #delta

50 notes · View notes

tipsycad147 · 5 years ago

Text

Green Magic: 8 Powerful Plants To Unlock Your Magic Today

SL Bear

Nature is like a witch’s personal charging station, as well as our repository. We gather rocks, wood, feathers, skulls. What does a witch need for that nature does not provide? Perhaps, nature’s greatest gifts to the witch are the plants it supplies for potions, powders, and good luck charms — so many resources at our fingertips, right outside our front doors.

Imagine your magic for a moment without plants. Not just the actual plants — as if that’s not bad enough — but the symbolism they have carried into all aspects of the craft. We use green for wealth spells because it represents money, right? No, it represents abundance, fertility, growth, and good harvests. Whenever we call on the element of earth, we are calling on the magic of our very world. And our world would be a very dark place without the colourful, delightful plants bursting at every seam. In fact, it wouldn’t be here at all. Trees provide the oxygen that sustains life. Plants feed us all. It is little wonder witches rely on them when performing feats of magic. What could be more magical than putting a seed into the earth and having it grow into a life-giving tree?

If you’re writing a spell or working on your craft, finding the best suited plant for your intention can be crucial. In this article, I hope to unveil the rich symbolism of plants — as well as provide you with a guide on how they can work for you in your magic.

The Quiet Magic Of Plants

Apple

An apple a day… well you know the rest. But did you know the Latin word for apple is mālum, which can also mean “evil” and is the root for other unpleasant words? Malpractice, malfunction… Malleus Maleficarum. The apple, when cut in half, reveals a secret pentagram and 5 seeds within.

Although not explicitly stated in the Bible, the apple is believed to be the forbidden fruit of knowledge and not in a good way. For witches at Samhain, the apple plays a big part in rituals, and at Halloween children bob for apples — all in celebration of the harvest. The Celts believed the apple contained magical properties, and perhaps in keeping with its link to knowledge and wisdom, apples are gifted to teachers as a show of respect. The apple is also a symbol of forbidden love and sex (appearing in art and on popular book covers to suggest the same).

Suggestions for use: I choose to ignore the apple’s less than savory connotations and would use this delicious little fruit in any divination or health spells and spells to help students excel in school.

Basil

A vibrant green, fragrant plant used in recipes all over the world; basil is known as the “witch’s herb.” As well as being a versatile ingredient, you can use basil in a variety of different spells and powders. Basil, or tulasi (the incomparable one), is a sacred plant in Hinduism and is a symbol of love in many cultures. In Haiti, basil is the herb of Erzuli, the goddess of love, and so basil is a go to for marriage spells and any spell to influence a lover. Basil also has many connections to travel, protection, wealth, luck, and health.

Suggestions for use: Because of basil’s versatility and its ancient connections to witchcraft, you can use this plant in many ways in your craft. Along with bay leaves, wishes can be written on basil and then burned so they come true. You can also eat leaves for a bit of fast luck.

Birch

The “goddess tree” and “pioneer tree.” Birch represents new beginnings and protection, and so was commonly used to make baby cribs. Its wood does not rot, because of this many people associate it with immortality and strength. Birch trees have a reputation for being resilient. In the case of forest fires, birches grow back quickly and repopulate an area with ease — another reason they are associated with starting over and new life. Besoms are made of birch, and birch bark was so thin and white that it was often used as paper to document sacred texts and symbols.

Suggestions for use: Birch leaves should be used in spells focusing on newborns or pregnancy (be sure to choose leaves that have been nibbled on if you can find them — follow the animals, these leaves are the choicest!). The addition of birch can bless any new endeavour and wishes for change should be written on birch and burned with care.

Clover

I’m obsessed with this little plant. Most people think of the shamrock as Irish and associate it with luck, which is correct, but the clover is also a symbol of the triple goddess. To find a four-leaf clover is lucky, but only because legend says it allows you to see friendly, hidden creatures like fairies and spirits! Though the four-leaf variety is more rare and famous, the three-leaf clovers have more symbolism, mainly religious. They represent the holy trinity, for example. For the Celts, the shamrock was a symbol of their knotwork as well as the balance of threes: gods, goddesses, and time.

Suggestions for use: You think I’m going to say luck, don’t you! Well, I live to surprise and my suggestion for the clover is air magic — communication, divination, astral travel, and matters of the mind. Dry the leaves, burn them, and recite spells while the smoke lingers in the air. If you are a Gemini, the clover will be especially helpful to you as the planetary association is Mercury, Gemini’s ruling planet!

Daisy

There is a Victorian language of flowers. It instructs that certain flowers must be given at certain times and you may say anything you wish to and even insult the recipient with a simple bouquet. When it comes to the daisy, a pretty white and yellow flower that just looks happy to be here, the Victorians were clear: Youth and innocence. It’s given to new mothers, young girls, and anyone who needs a little cheering up. The old-fashioned yet charming game of “he loves me, he loves me not” is played by pulling daisy petals to reveal the feelings of a crush. The daisy is associated with young love and naivety, but also wholesomeness and a fresh, sunny outlook.

Suggestions for use: This flower is perfect for self-care rituals and magic to make you feel better. Keep some daisies by your altar to invite positive vibes. If you find yourself fighting negative thoughts, carry a pressed daisy in your wallet as a reminder to be open and find joy in every moment.

Garlic

As a warding agent, garlic reigns supreme. What repels vampires? Garlic. What repels everyone else? Garlic breath. It is a staple in many mouth-watering recipes, but is also used medicinally and is great for your immune system, heart, and brain. Long before penicillin, garlic was an antibiotic used the world over and Hippocrates, of Hippocratic Oath fame, noted garlic’s amazing healing properties. Garlic was used by ancient Greek and Roman soldiers for courage, perhaps because garlic is associated with the planet Mars. Garlic is hung in ropes outside shops and homes for luck and chopped up and tossed in gardens to scare away scorpions.

Suggestions for use: This “stinking rose” may be one of the most powerful warding charms out there, but its health benefits cannot be denied. Hang garlic in your kitchen to encourage healthy cooking. Incorporate fresh chopped garlic in any healing spell and be sure to add a fire element to pay homage to Mars. If you’re in a pinch, powdered garlic can be used in talismans and spell bottles.

Ivy

Seen as a counterpart to holly, ivy has maternal associations of protection and, less complimentary, clinginess. Houses with ivy covering a wall are “protected” by this plant, hidden and shielded from the rest of the world in a loving green blanket. Ivy grows in a spiral, a sacred symbol, and has five-pointed leaves, a symbol of the unity of the elements. Ivy is a hardy plant, thriving in many environments, and grows on a twisting vine. For these reasons, ivy is linked with fidelity in relationships.

Suggestions for use: Incorporate ivy in love spells, but be sure to include holly as well, to balance the two partners. For the less enamoured, use ivy to bind. Place five ivy leaves in a circle and on each leaf, place a representation of one element, holding the fifth leaf in your hand. Make a taglock for your target, bind it with a piece of ivy, and squeeze the taglock tightly in your other hand. (Use garlic as your fire element if you’d also like the person to be driven away!)

Rose

This is an old plant, which has been cultivated by humans over the years to be bigger, more colourful, and impossibly perfect. The first roses had only five petals in the shape of a pentagram, so it has long symbolised sacred knowledge. The rose resembles the human heart so it’s connected to love and passion. It is associated with Aphrodite, Venus, Lakshmi, Eros… to name a few. Along with the lily and lotus, the rose is one of the most heavily symbolic flowers in the world. Royal houses adopted the rose as their sigils, the Tarot uses the rose as a way to show balance, and in Christianity, the rose is the flower of Mary, the quintessential mother. The rose, along with representing everything from virginal purity to wild sexual passion, is also the symbol of secrets. If something is sub rosa, it means it is confidential, only spoken of in whispers and under a veil of secrecy.

Suggestions for use: Love potions are a given. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a love potion (or written one) that didn’t include some part of the rose. But try to think about the rose in a new way. This is a flower that curls up tightly, hides many layers of petals, and grows thorns along its stem — all to keep you out. This is a clandestine flower, so it should be used during spells when you want to hide something or keep something safe. Use the rose when you need privacy or to keep someone out of your business. I suggest further research on this “most perfect” of flowers, though. If you have a magical need, the rose can probably fulfil it!

https://thetravelingwitch.com/blog/green-magic-8-powerful-plants-to-unlock-your-magic-today

0 notes