I’ve looking up my old notes on experiences I’ve been meaning to share with you folks for a while. Experiences with the Divine in its many aspects, which also stands as my reasoning behind believing in more than one deity who makes up the OTG. More of my understanding of deity falls under the ‘Pagan’ ‘Wicca Lesson’ ‘Witchcraft’ tags. Here is another experience, one I had the subtlety to share with Apollo. I have written up dreams I’ve had in which Cernunnos and Cerridwen have both visited me in my very early days on here too, in case you are interested. More shall come, including the spiritual interviews I have been conducting. Enjoy!
When I was around the tender age of 17, I went to Spain to see friends and family who are made up of mainly Catholic Christians. Nothing ever escaped them, but they weren’t overly keen on the idea of being devout, considering I was very much a hardcore practitioner of magick back then; although these days, not so much on the practical aspect due to laziness and how the weather affects my perception. If it isn’t super hot I can’t stretch or do highly ritualistic magic. If it isn’t super cold, I can’t focus my deepest energies into the workings I do around autumn and winter. However, back in Barcelona it just happened to be a very hot summer’s day in the middle of august. My uncle had informed us that he was going to take us to the beach for a few days just to soak up some sun, relax and visit the galleries that had information on Catalan history and art.
A few days before we left, I ran up to the room I was staying in to start a bed time devotion but realised one of my notebooks was missing. It was full of my thoughts, concepts and excerpts from various magickal books I had been studying from for some time. As you can imagine, I was freaking out in silence as I didn’t want anyone to know what I was getting so worked up about and more importantly, what I was getting myself into. I tipped out my bags more than once, checking the nooks and crannies and found nothing. I even checked the bin by the window, the balcony, the laundry basket and under my bed and still found nothing. My heart was racing; the anxiety was building as my ever increasing worry was torturing me. I couldn’t remember where I had put it for the life of me, and I vowed never to leave Spain until I found it.
I managed to write up a quick incantation which is below (do not judge! I was 17 and still very stupid as far as syntax went!):
“Morning star awoke at the beginning of the day, Apollo the light bringer dawns in my heart. Forever the doves fly in the sunshine, and prepare the day for night. Hades throws his essence in the air welcoming the Lady as she arrives fair. Night falls upon me and I become one with a star. Look after me and mine dear Gods unless I do not yet see clear. [Then I stated the things I’d like in prayer form, and in this case it was to find my journal] Blessed Be.”
I closed the circle, stood up and put my items away. When the room was fairly clean and most of the incense had blown out into the breeze I rolled into bed and drifted off with tears on my cheek. I was devastated I had lost my journal, which was full of notes, silly rhymes, badly written poems and small spells with terrible grammar. At this point Apollo was already in my life. He came to me when I was in Spain before actually, swimming out in the sea and just made me feel like I could trust in him above me and what felt like Poseidon beneath. There wasn’t much I could do.
The next day, exactly 1 night before our beach day I met the family for breakfast and we sat and woke each other up with talk of my uncle’s horrible nasal impressions and the heat. When breakfast was over I went out to the lovely olive tree which stood by the front door to tie a little ribbon on it. That day, the tree for some reason looked more beautiful than it used to. Bright, busy and bursting with the lives of the insects living on the trunk and I remember smiling. On the ground just beneath it was a small broken branch so I picked it up and decided to keep it. I put the branch on my little desk in the room and finished packing my bags for the trip. That rest of that day I don’t think I even thought about my journal that much. Even when I went to bed that night I didn’t do a devotion or a prayer, I just had a shower and went to bed feeling better.
We went to the beach for a few days and I swam in the sea when I could asking the water spirits and even attempted to call on Poseidon to look after me, but I don’t think he came. However I did let go and totally relax and let the water take me where it wanted. I would look about and watch the rough waters heading toward me, but when they came close it was as if they would calm and pass by me. When I looked at the beach, I could see I was quite far out but I wasn’t scared at all, I was safe. The way the sun was heating my skin felt spiritual. The water would stroke it and remind me of the Gods touch on my heart and on my soul, it was definitely magickal. I remember closing my eyes for a few minutes and muttering a little incantation I made up on the spot asking for Apollo to guide me to where he would like me to be in life, and inviting him to visit me whenever he felt I needed a lesson to learn. These were still early days for my relationship with Apollo and Cernunnos was just leaving my life. After my little swim, after quite a few hours my cousins and I swam back to shore, dried to drown each other a few times and checked out the popular hair styles that the men on the beach wore. I didn’t cast any magick after that day as I was too swept up in having fun.
The last night we spent in the hotel I had a very vivid dream. Over and over I kept seeing the olive tree. I remember, and also by reading the crappy notes I quickly jotted in my journal that I’m just referring to, the area I was in was bathed in orange light. I kept seeing a hand pointing to the tree and the leaves were falling off. Then the dream changed to something entirely different, focusing on feet walking on a dusty road in the dark. It felt like it last a few minutes and to this day I still don’t understand the second part of the dream, but the first part made me focus on the olive tree. When we got back I ran up to my room, grabbed the already dried and pristine branch and headed out to the garden. I felt I had to take the branch back to the tree as it wasn’t mine to take, or at least that was what I felt. I noticed more leaves on the ground around the tree, except one area at the base of the tree. The ground there looked a little different. It wasn’t the lovely yellow soil that worshipped and fed the tree; it was black and leathery. When I bent down to see what it was I jumped for joy. It was my journal! It was sitting in the shade, under the tree where I left it. I remember writing in it about Apollo and must have left it when I was called in for dinner before we were supposed to go out when the siesta was finished. Thank the Gods it didn’t rain! And thank Apollo for guiding me.
I picked up a few of the leaves, washed them and put them in the bath with me. At the end of the night I was preparing the floor by the doors that lead out onto the balcony to do a small secretive devotion when my uncle’s wife knocked and came in. I jumped up as quick as I could to greet her when he gave me some candles she found in the kitchen, and said to me in broken English “Candles for your witchcraft. It is okay, my mother was a magic person also.” She sat with me for a while and told me about her mother, who lives in the south, about her memories of seeing magick as a child. When I asked her how she knew I was into magick, she said she was in the garden below the balcony the other night and saw what I was doing. Since then she was trying to find a quiet moment to come and chat. After she left, I did a better devotion following a method I had written in my journal and used my new candles, thanking Apollo for showing me the way.
We still talk now, and it was through her that I started reading up on Santería, Spanish folk magick and how to be Catholic, but with the latter I just grit my teeth and smile when she informs me of the Bible and its doctrine. This was just one small way in which Apollo has touched me. In a major way, when I look at my old journal entries I realise water and sunlight play a huge role with my connection with him. I often call on him when I’m in the shower… don’t ask. Like father, like son. He always fills me with inspiration and helps me whenever I need him.
What are your experiences with Apollo?