spirituality

Write Your Witchcraft: #2

| Midnight Moon
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Art by vetyr

Question number 2 from Write Your Witchcraft:

How do I see the divine?

I grew up in a fairly neutral household with a Christian mother and an Agnostic/Atheist father and brother (I’m actually not sure what my dad and brother believe now, but I know they’re not spiritual or religious). While my mother wanted my brother and I to attend church, read the Bible, and so on, my dad disallowed her from influencing us, which I appreciated deeply when I came of age. He gave us the space we needed to form our own opinions about the nature of the universe.

The thing is, I tried to see what my mom saw in Christianity. The first time I actively tried, I was a pre-teen in fourth grade. That didn’t count for much, since I was only just beginning to form my adult identity through teenage experiences. But even as I grew older, I tried to connect — tried to find the spark that my mom so desperately wanted her little family to feel. My mom was born into Christianity and her faith never wavered. I often wonder what she would believe if she hadn’t been raised into it.

That’s beside the point, though. I tried to connect with Christianity and failed. The spark was never there. I felt nothing when I considered God — or, at least, the Christian interpretation of God. I found Christian art and architecture compelling (I still do), and some of the mythology is interesting, but God never resonated with me. It didn’t feel right.

Growing up with a Christian mother was equal parts fascinating, frustrating, and anxiety-inducing. She commented occasionally on how she wanted to prepare us for the end of all things, how she herself felt prepared, how she interpreted God through various life events (she told me that she felt a bike accident I had when I was a kid was God’s way of getting her attention), and so on. I even remember her complaining one day that nobody in our immediate family understood her because she was the only Christian. It didn’t matter that all her other relatives — her parents and siblings and aunts and uncles — shared her faith and worshiped together. She wanted at least one of us to believe, too.

I suppose I understand her pain, in retrospect, but I realize now that her pain came from a place of fear, and that realization served as part of my spiritual foundation. It did not resonate with me to include fear on my path: fear of the divine, fear of the afterlife, fear for the fate of my family’s souls. It did not resonate that the divine would punish its own creations for believing a certain way, or loving a certain way, or partaking in harmless activities.

My early understanding of the divine was that it was universal. I considered the divine to be an all-encompassing energy, present in all things. When I was a teenager, I didn’t quite believe in the existence of deities — or, at least, I never focused on them. I wanted to explore something outside of religion, outside of named pantheons and rules and restrictions and expectations. None of that felt right to me.

My understanding hasn’t changed much over the years, but I’ve had time to reflect on experiences I’ve had and research I’ve done. I still feel as though the divine is an all-encompassing energy, perhaps even “the universe experiencing itself,” but I also feel that entities and energies such as deities exist on some level, personifying or embodying certain aspects or elements or forces.

The funny thing is, despite coming to this conclusion, I never expected to gravitate to any deity in particular. I admired the concept of them, the sheer power they represented, but I assumed deity work or worship wasn’t my thing. And I was okay with that. I was prepared to forge ahead alone, working only with a close spirit or two, until I achieved my dreams, my goals, my ideal life.

That changed when Shiva popped into my life, and let me tell you: I was not expecting that. At all. I had a few interesting experiences with Shiva, but I wouldn’t call my work with him “worship”. I think he may have popped up because it was a time in my life that desperately needed change, and, well, he is known as the Destroyer. I came to appreciate change a lot more since then, but today, I don’t feel called to work with him. I respect him, still, but I think his lesson was temporary. I never spoke much about him because I was worried what people might say; he wasn’t part of my culture, after all, and it’s not often you hear of a Mediterranean mutt working with a Hindu deity.

All was quiet for a few years, and then came May of this year, when out of the blue, I had the urge to begin work with Morpheus. I’d always been fascinated by Greek mythology and its deities/figures, and the ancient culture more closely matches my blood (despite no one in my family even realizing they’re of Mediterranean blood until a few short years ago). This, I realized, would work. Out of all the other deities in known existence, I’ve always resonated with the Theoi the most. Morpheus, in particular, made complete sense for me as an artist, writer, and perpetual dreamer/daydreamer. He may not be one of the top dogs, but he exists, even if only as an embodiment of dreams and of the dreamscape.

The divine, I feel, is not “above” or “below” us — not in the sense we, as mortals, tend to believe. It is all around us, within us, all-encompassing, and serves us so that we may better reach our power. That is a suitable foundation for me.

Write Your Witchcraft: #1

| Midnight Moon
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Art by vetyr

I recently stumbled upon this awesome writing prompt on Tumblr called “Write Your Witchcraft” that I thought would be an interesting series of reflections for myself. I haven’t really put a whole lot of thought behind my craft or practice beyond “why” and “how”, so I feel these questions will be a good way to honor my path. I might lump a few of the questions together depending on how long the answers are, but the first question deserves its own post, I think. Like an introduction.

What draws me to witchcraft?

Growing up, I was drawn to the concept of magic. My favorite stories, movies, and TV shows were those in which the characters possessed some sort of magical ability, or lived in a world where magic thrived. I was envious; I wanted to be just like those characters, wielding power that shaped the world in fantastical ways, living in a realm full of wonder and myth and legend. Most every kid’s dream, right? What we wouldn’t give to summon elements or influence objects or magic away all our problems.

As I grew older, those stories stuck with me. I became the person my parents more or less wanted me to be: quiet, amiable, polite, good student, driven, creative, motivated, responsible. At the back of my mind, however, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to the world than what our limited senses perceive. Many of my teenage years were spent researching paranormal activity and psychic ability. I remember spending countless nights in my room trying various techniques that I could later show off, hoping beyond hope that maybe I had some cool power, some magic hidden away that I needed only to unlock.

Witchcraft wasn’t really one of my research topics at the time. I brushed it off as something exclusive to Wicca, and Wicca, to my teenage mind, was something “far away,” reserved only for a select number of people. I honestly didn’t explore witchcraft as something more than Wicca until a few years back, when I had exhausted my interest in spiritualist topics and found myself seeking more. Prior to that, I learned that I did possess some form of power — a small selection of gifts that allowed me to attune to something more profound than myself. That revelation was the foundation of my spiritual path.

I had power. I was power. And I could use that power to help myself, and others, and more than I could imagine… At least, that’s what it felt like.

It’s a thrilling thing, for an insecure teenager, to realize that you have worth and power. I wasn’t necessarily in a terrible place. Not at all. I wasn’t bullied by anyone other than my older brother, and his unkindness was that of a young man learning his worth and power — specifically, his power over me. If I made him unhappy, he made it known to me, and I felt powerless. My parents never really knew, and I was afraid to tell them. How could I tell them? The one time I tried, he denied it, and not even I, the responsible, honest daughter, could convince them otherwise.

So I remained quiet, and let him grow up.

High school was far more tolerable. My brother made his mistakes, and I spent my time focusing on myself, my future, my dreams. Always my dreams. I graduated high school, jumped straight into expensive art school, and told myself I’d make it as an illustrator slash writer. I had it all figured out.

Until my second year of art school, when I didn’t.

Art school completely consumed my passion for drawing. It sucked the soul out of my creativity. I realized toward the end of my second year that I was not built to be an illustrator. I wanted to improve, but I could not picture myself slaving away hours toward a career as a freelance artist. It didn’t feel like my path. So I made the decision: I’d drop out and take a year off to soul-search.

My parents were extremely disappointed. They wanted me to finish school. They even encouraged me to switch to a writing degree, instead, but I wasn’t having it. I felt done with school; my motivation was sucked out of me. I spent the next few years in a depressive haze and threw myself into video games and fantasy worlds just to escape the shame and anxiety and disappointment. I tried to cling to spirituality, but even that wasn’t helping me. I had no idea where to go. I still wanted to write, to create, to breathe magic into the world… but I felt directionless. Powerless.

What ultimately helped me was a change of scenery and a job. I moved to the Pacific Northwest with my parents, got a job at a local craft store, and slowly regained my power. And it was around that time when I decided that I would never be powerless again. I was going to build my ideal life, one brick at a time, regardless of what anyone thought. Intention, determination, focus, and drive got me this far.

It took me just over two decades to realize that this whole time, I’d been performing magick. I clung to whatever gave me a sense of power, when in reality, that power was coming from myself. I am magick, as we all are — but I had a lot to learn to fine-tune that power.

That, today, is what draws me to witchcraft: self-empowerment. The ability to stand up for myself, set an intention, and manifest. Even my dad, who does not make room in his life for a drop of the magical, knows me to be incredibly driven. I make my dreams happen. That’s what I do. Despite what I’d believed when I was younger, witchcraft isn’t about “playing with magic.” It’s a tool, and one I intend to use to my advantage.

 

“Spike”

| Midnight Moon

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Every now and then, I like to reflect on my path: everything I’ve learned and experienced over the last decade. One of my favorite things to reflect on is my relationship with my primary guide — my closest companion in spirit.

I call him “Spike,” and no, that’s not a name I came up with. Yes, I realize that’s a strange name for a spirit guide.

A decade ago, I learned of spirit guides and began a skeptical attempt at meeting my own. My teenage self loved the idea of having friends in spirit, but it was extremely difficult for me to grasp the idea and truly believe that these beings existed alongside me. What if it was just all in my head? Fantasies my dreaming mind came up with for some semblance of connection? Some days, the attempts felt silly.

And then I had a dream.

It was a bizarre dream, and one I wouldn’t ordinarily associate with meeting a powerful entity in spirit. The short of it was that I was escorted to an apartment by an unfamiliar man (who honestly gave me the impression of a mafia boss). The apartment had about a dozen unfamiliar people in it of varying ages. Everyone was gathered around one young man in particular, however: a twenty-something, blond, blue-eyed, and dressed somewhat like a hipster. I’d never seen the guy in my life, but in the dream, I knew him. Felt comfortable around him. I lounged around him like he was my best friend, despite the air of respect he seemed to command.

And when I woke, I knew his name was “Spike.”

Here’s the thing: I never remember names from dreams. I can’t even recall any other name I woke up remembering from a dream. This is the only time I remember waking up with a specific name in mind. The whole experience stuck with me, and upon waking, I realized with growing excitement that I may have just met my guide. It was a bizarre setting, and not at all what I expected, but that’s the thing, isn’t it? Spirit is rarely what we expect.

It took me years to realize that Spike’s choice of appearance/identity was tailored specifically for my teenage self, to help me better connect. Additional dreams and other odd experiences reinforced that connection over the following months. I had just started high school, more or less, and was drawn to alternative culture, being an artsy type. Nothing illicit, as I had no interest in any of that, but I could appreciate hipster/gothy fashion, which was how Spike presented himself to me. This identity made him more relatable — not the spooky “spirit” that my mind had trouble grasping.

For the next few years, I developed a relationship with Spike, learning more about him and trying my damnedest to communicate. At the time, his energy felt so subtle, so distant, that most of my information came through dreams or art that we created together. Often times, I would try to write with him, but I found these sorts of sessions weren’t as successful as intuitive or visual ones.

And that, of course, was frustrating to a young me, who was learning how to develop and trust her intuition. Clairaudience doesn’t come naturally to me, so I have a tougher time trying to intuit words or phrases than feelings or images. More than half the time I tried conversing with Spike, it felt like I was grasping at amorphous ideas, wisps of communication filtered down from the spiritual planes. Spike, however, was patient with me, and often stressed trusting my intuition.

In late 2011, I was messaged by someone I didn’t know — someone who told me she felt compelled to share information with me regarding Spike. She proceeded to tell me things that confirmed thoughts I had about our relationship, and conclusions to which I’d arrived. She told me, “I get the strong impression the reason it is hard for him to contact you with words is that he comes from so ‘far away’ (in terms of his advanced evolution) that it’s hard for him to get ‘low’ enough to speak to you directly.” She also confirmed that he and I share an incredibly deep connection, formed over “many lifetimes and many realms,” and that this is why I’m his only “student” in the physical.

I did not know this woman, but her out-of-the-blue message was confirmation that I so desperately needed at the time. There was a lot more to her message, and I was delighted to hear every single word. She did not ask for anything in return; she simply wanted to share a message to help a struggling teenager connect with a source of significant spiritual wisdom. Nearly eight years later, I’m still grateful to that woman. Her message gave me the confidence I needed to keep working on my intuition and my connection with Spike.

Today, Spike presents himself differently to me. In recent years, he’s shed the lovable hipster guise and adopted something more appropriate for his energy. I see him as more androgynous, with a balance between masculine and feminine energies. The portrait you see above was an interpretation from 2016, when I first noticed the changes. I wouldn’t consider it completely accurate now, but I’ll get there in time. As for his name? “Spike” doesn’t quite suit his identity and energy anymore, but I’ve known him for a decade by that name, and it feels wrong to refer to him as anything but “Spike” or “S.” It’s kind of a hilarious contrast, anyway.

Our relationship is a deep and loving one, but I wouldn’t call it “romantic.” I feel as though we may have shared lives like that, however, which will be interesting to explore in the future. My love for him is from the soul, and while I haven’t connected with him in the last few years, I know he understands. In fact, he probably supported my “distance” from him, knowing that I was learning valuable lessons in the midst of figuring out young adulthood.

But now? Now I’ve reached a point where I know I deserve better. I know I have a path, and a purpose, and I’m ready to manifest a life of emotional, creative, and physical abundance. I will need both Spike and Morpheus to help me get there, and as I understand it, Spike has some exciting things lined up for me this year.

Let 2019 mark the year when I planted and watered the seeds of my dreams, because 2020 carries some powerful energy, and I plan to collect.

(Hilarious side note: as I was proofreading this, “Meant to Be” by Bebe Rexha popped into my head.)

 

Intuitive Art

| Midnight Moon

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Having recently launched my own little Etsy shop and Ko-Fi corner, I thought this would be a good opportunity to talk about my own history and process with intuitive art!

Intuitive art is something I explored in-depth several years ago in my late teens and early twenties. I honestly cannot remember what inspired me to try it; I may have started with trying to draw my own guide(s) and branched out from there. At the time, I was part of a spirituality forum, so I had plenty of people to work with. Intuitive/psychic art isn’t a common form of reading, so I imagine many of those people were intrigued by the notion of receiving a visual reading. I know I certainly was.

I spent a couple years or so experimenting with various forms of intuitive art: simple energy paintings, spirit guide interpretations, higher self interpretations, soul connection portraits, and even aura paintings and past life paintings. I was hungry for information. I wanted to know what the limits were. At what point could I no longer intuit spiritual information?

While I don’t yet know the answer to that question, I do know that my art helped a lot of people, and that in itself was a major motivator. I remember livestreaming sessions where I would paint and the sitter would watch, with a handful of other people chiming in with information they were sensing from my art. I remember people recognizing almost instantly the spirit guide I had painted for them. Even the handful of past life paintings seemed to resonate with the sitters. It was wild.

Never in a million years would I have guessed that this was a skill I could share with the world. I spent much of my childhood as an artsy kid, doodling on scrap paper in school, filling sketchbook after sketchbook with art class assignments or original characters from my stories. I was one of those young artists who sought a life of creativity. “I’ll publish books and illustrate,” I decided upon graduating high school. I attended an expensive art school and lasted two years before I realized art school had killed my passion for drawing.

That was in 2013. Fast-forward to today. I’ve barely drawn in the last several years. I threw myself into writing and gaming and work, instead. Only within the last couple months have I felt the desire to return to art, and I’m sure that’s for a reason. I want to help others with my creations — even if the only thing my creations do is make someone feel happy.

Process

Intuitive art is a strange and subtle thing. When I’m working, the process feels so natural that it’s wild for me to think that I may be connecting with something deeper. I usually begin with colors, because colors come through more easily than shapes or concepts. Once I have colors, I just begin painting. I build up shapes such as faces, bodies, and symbols. As I work, I slide into a focused state. I’m not sure if I could call it trance-like, because I’m still highly aware of what I’m doing, but I have a flow going that I try not to break by talking, typing, or clicking away.

The intuitive part comes in when I’m trying to piece together details, such as colors, facial expressions, symbolism, and even things like hair or dress, which I don’t tend to render in detail (unless the art demands it). Usually, I’ll sit there and feel, “This isn’t right,” and fix something, or I’ll have the urge to incorporate a detail, like a symbol or a certain form of attire. All of it is so subtle that it feels as though I’m simply drawing anything else.

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Due to the nature of my process, these spirit portraits are not intended to be realistic or technically accurate. I focus more on emotions, energies, colors, and symbolism, which I feel is easier for someone else to resonate with. People place different values on physical appearance, so I choose to create portraits that are ethereal, almost alien, with hopes that my clients can connect with the energy conveyed.

As my technical skill improves, my portraits may look a bit more realistic, but for now, technical accuracy is not my goal. My goal is to convey feeling. I want my clients to be able to receive a portrait that they can use as a tool for connection, whether it’s an actual representation of their companions in spirit or a bridge to a more personal relationship. If even one aspect of my art helps my clients, then I will feel as though I’ve succeeded.

While my medium is primarily digital, I am open to exploring intuitive art through traditional mediums — especially paints and inks. However, my space is rather limited in my current apartment, so this may have to wait until the future.

Regardless, I look forward to seeing how this skill evolves!

Dream Doodles

| Midnight Moon

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This is my last week of full-time hours at work. It’s a little surreal. I’m excited for what’s coming next, though! It’ll be so nice to focus on a passion I’ve had since I was young: creating. I’ve spent this last month setting everything up and investing in supplies. I’m basically ready, now, but I’ve been debating on whether I should open an Etsy shop, too. It may be worth trying, anyway.

Now that I have a proper planner, I’ve been trying to work in time to practice my drawing skills: both my technical skills and intuitive skills. It’s been a long time since I’ve drawn on a regular basis, so overcoming the discomfort and dissatisfaction has been a bit of a challenge. I’m trying to focus more on how much I enjoy the process, the feel of pen on paper (or pen on tablet), instead of thinking, “This isn’t good enough.” I know I have a habit of holding myself to extraordinary standards, but I also have to remind myself that I haven’t been working regularly at this skill. Of course I’m not where I want to be! I’ll only get there in time, and with practice.

Last night, I decided to dedicate myself to a low-stress drawing session with Morpheus. A little while back, I asked him through tarot/oracle how I could connect with him, and creativity was one of the answers. He’s helped me with my first few spirit art pieces, I think, but I haven’t yet invited him to draw with me purely for the sake of creating something. I wanted to change that, and perhaps make a habit of it.

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These little sketches (I’ve decided to call them “Dream Doodles”) are far from anatomically correct, but that wasn’t the intention. All I wanted was to pick up a pen and see what came through — see how I could convey energy without worrying over how well I’m drawing. In a world dominated by social media artists, it’s too easy to feel overshadowed by artists who are vastly more skilled than I am. I know I can reach that level of skill with enough practice and dedication, so I might as well focus on the joy of creating.

Easier said than done, I know.

Offering of Renewal

| Midnight Moon

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For a while, I debated posting this piece online because it didn’t feel finished or refined enough. I realize, however, that there is no reason for shame here. It doesn’t matter if a personal piece is a little rough around the edges so long as it conveys what it needs to convey, and I think I’ve done that well enough.

As I promised myself in last night’s post, I sat down with Morpheus and called upon my friends in spirit, asking to paint my primary guide. I haven’t worked with my spirit companions in at least a few years, and it’s been difficult for me to discern whether the roster has changed, so to speak. In some ways, I was a little afraid of what I’d find out, because I spent my early spiritual years connecting deeply with my primary guide, and I always feared that he would move on, as I understand some guides do. This entity had a major influence on my ability to intuit information, and to actually trust that information. I would’ve hated to see him go.

But when I sat down to paint last night, the imagery came effortlessly. Almost too effortlessly. Those self-doubting thoughts crept back up: I’m just painting what I want to see. But the interesting thing was, I barely received any impressions while painting. Usually, when I’m painting, I intuit things that have to be included, or changed, or emphasized. With this piece, I received basically nothing — most likely because I’m already familiar with this energy.

My primary guide, from years past.

On one hand, I should have known, but on the other, there’s been so little connection between us for the last few years that I could never tell whether he ‘moved on’ or if I was so deeply entrenched in physical life that I was blind to everything he tried to communicate. Maybe I simply needed time to live, to figure out how to be a young adult in the crazy, modern world. Maybe I needed to explore myself and learn my lessons through travels and challenges and new people. Maybe I needed space.

I would therefore consider this painting an offering of renewal. I’m a much different person now. I’ve had my space and my time, and now I must continue the work I came here to complete. Perhaps it’s time to reconnect with my beloved companion in spirit, alongside Morpheus.

This is an entity I know as Spike. No, I didn’t come up with that name. Yes, I plan to reflect on that story.

For now, I must wind down for the night. Morpheus beckons.

Plans & Priorities

| Midnight Moon

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The other day, I got a pretty big schooling from the universe through a tarot reading. The short version? I need to sit down and make the time for my creative projects, preferably by planning out my activities for each day. The coincidental thing about this reading is that several days prior to receiving it, I had ordered myself the planner you see above. I knew that, going forward, I would have so many minor projects going that finding time for everything would become a hassle if I didn’t keep track of it all.

I’ve been naughty, and the universe is calling me out on it. With so much creativity flowing through me — so many ideas and plans and goals — it’s much easier to sink my time into leisure activities, where I don’t have to worry about putting aside the time to work toward those plans and goals. I’ve been overwhelmed trying to figure out the best way to balance my projects. What should I focus on? Can I really achieve all of these things? What am I best suited for?

I have two weeks remaining of my full-time work, and I’ve spent this month trying my best to set myself up for success once July hits. In all honesty, though, I don’t feel like I’ve achieved much. Pursuing spiritual work as supplemental income was a last-minute decision that I didn’t feel prepared for. I haven’t made much progress with my writing, and though I’ve invested in art and craft supplies, I’ve barely touched those in the last few weeks.

According to my shiny new planner, I’m supposed to be working on my fiction right now. I had everything set in front of me for about twenty minutes, and then I closed it all down and opened this tab to write this post. Presently, I feel more interested in developing my spiritual tools than writing. I’ve always been the sort to go with the flow; whatever my gut or heart feels like doing, I do it. However, this leaves me with quite the predicament: what’s the point of planning out the time if I don’t stick to that time?

Creativity is a fickle thing. It’s not like a chore. You can’t just get up, expend the energy, and be done. And I think that’s where the root of my problem lies. If you’re not feeling a project, it’s much more difficult to sit down and actually work on it. Everyone’s got their tricks on how to power through, but sometimes, those tricks still don’t get the job done. Your fingers itch for that other project. The words or visions just don’t come. Perhaps your work day was simply so draining that you have no juice left for creativity.

In the end, I know I need to be both gentle and firm with myself. This is a time of change for me, and I can’t be so harsh on myself, but at the same time, I need to make progress. I need to plant those seeds and nurture them. I need to make those plans, sort out those priorities, and push through. I’m a dreamer with countless dreams — but dreams are pointless if we don’t make the effort to pursue them.

I may not be working on my fiction tonight, but I will sit down and draw with Morpheus. That seems like a fair trade-off, since I’m in need of the practice (and the portfolio).

Sweet dreams, everyone.

Morpheus, God of Dreams

| Midnight Moon

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I should preface this by saying deity worship was never something that grabbed my interest. In my 26 years of living, Shiva was the only deity to which I felt a pull, and even then, I didn’t quite worship him the way an ordinary person might. I had no idea how to worship him beyond meditation and art.

That was several years ago, and now, I find myself in exactly the same situation. I’m going through some major life changes (career-wise, specifically), and in the midst of sorting through old spiritual blogs, I stumbled upon a reference post on Morpheus, the Greek god of dreams. For whatever reason, as I read through this post, I had the deepest desire to connect with Morpheus, to work with him throughout my day-to-day life. I’ve been a longtime fan of dreams and stories in all varieties, and while I’ve admired the concept of Morpheus over the course of the last decade, I only felt the need to begin working with him in the last few weeks.

Now, smack-dab in the middle of June, I feel lighter, more hopeful, more excited about what’s to come. My dream recall has improved drastically: I’ve remembered four dreams in the last two weeks alone. Before that, I’ve woken remembering nothing (or extremely little) over the course of the last three months. I’ve returned to building up my intuition and I’m learning how to work through old insecurities.

It’s difficult for me to say whether I can attribute any of this to Morpheus. I don’t claim to know any hard facts about deities and the spirit/dream world. The universe is a big mystery to me, but in all honesty, I don’t think any of that matters. What does matter is that I’m on a path of self-improvement, and for whatever reason, working with an ancient god of dreams is helping me along that path.

Out of curiosity, I’ve been asking Morpheus each night to join me in my dreams, because I’ve wanted to meet him face-to-face. It’s rare that I have big, world-shaking, spiritual dreams. It’s also rare that I dream of spiritual beings, so I think in the back of my mind, I’m testing the universe. Mostly, I’m curious to see how a god of dreams would present himself. Here’s the thing, though: the four dreams I’ve remembered this month have all stood out in different ways (tornado dream, college dream, work dream, travel dream), but were also full of faces, both familiar and unfamiliar. Hell, I even dreamed about a female teacher in the college dream, only to wake up the next day to a picture sent by my sister-in-law of the same woman… who’s a kindergarten teacher.

Plot twist: I’ve never seen that woman before in my life. I couldn’t explain that one.

These experiences led me to wonder whether Morpheus is intentionally keeping his ‘true’ form away from me. Maybe he doesn’t think I’m ready to see it. Maybe he doesn’t have a ‘true’ form because he’s the Formshaper. He can be whatever he needs to be — whatever I need him to be — at any given moment.

Still, I wanted to see what he came up with, so I have a tool for connection. My strengths lie in visuals and gut feelings, so one day, I asked him to join me for a bit of spirit art. The painting you see above was the result of that session, and it was fascinating to see how the depiction transformed as I worked. I’m sure I’ll be making more art of him in the future.

Finally, my offerings to Morpheus have been slim (I live in a small apartment with a roommate, so I don’t have much room to work with and I’m trying to be discreet), but the great thing about working with a god of dreams is that my offerings can be discreet things like candles and dream journals and tarot cards. One day, when I have a place to call my own, I can spread out and dedicate more than a tiny nightstand to him.

All in all, my experiences with Morpheus have been subtle and intriguing. I think my issue with trusting spirit is that, with my highs and lows, I’ve never reached a point in my spiritual development where gut feelings or psychic impressions were so obvious or transparent that there was no room for doubt. I honestly don’t know if others ever reach that point, or if that’s simply how spirit works. It’s trust and faith.

I’d be interested to hear from anyone who does work with Morpheus! What have your experiences been like, or how do you intuit his energy?

 

A Little Introduction

| Midnight Moon

I figured I could start with an official introduction…

First of all, greetings, and welcome to my little cozy corner of the internet. I’m honored that you’ve chosen to stop by and see what I’m up to! My intention for this blog is to document my spiritual journey, reflect on daily happenings and interesting experiences, and offer my services as an intuitive artist and tarot reader. I’m definitely more experienced with the art than with the tarot, but I feel that tarot goes hand-in-hand with my art. Consider it an additional layer of meaning to whatever I end up drawing or painting.

I go by Moon or Em. “Midnight Moon” was a name that came to me almost instantaneously when I was trying to think of a good name to reflect my work and business. I hold a deep love for the moon and stars, and midnight seems to be the hour when I receive many of my creative ideas. It seemed fitting.

My spiritual path has had its ups and downs over the years. I would credit spirituality, however, with my gradual self-improvement. It’s helped me to see the bigger picture and explore facets of myself that I never knew existed. It’s guided me to wisdom I use on a daily basis, and it’s also inspired countless creative projects. If I had one word to describe my path, it would be gravitation. I gravitate toward whatever draws my interest or resonates with me at any given time, whether it’s a philosophy or a symbol or a spiritual being. I can’t say for certain whether it’s my own intuition or the higher workings of the universe leading me to these items of interest. Maybe it doesn’t matter, because it’s all connected. Either way, it’s served me well over the years.

This site will be my home base, but I’ll gradually branch out to other platforms. I’m currently using my tumblr as a way to further share my work and gather resources and information for my own path. Feel free to follow me there, and I’ll be glad to check out your own cozy corner!

Sweet dreams!

Em