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Unedited: post belcan ceremony
A few months ago I clicked a button and ordered a book that was out of stock at the time, which arrived in an interesting time of my life. I picked it up last week, and opened in a chapter that was something I was searching for answers for, not only for days/weeks but months after the fire. This room was solely for Magick. My ex & I. Alex, and J later his new partner, who was initiated into 21 commissions/espiritismo & Wicca months earlier) were the sole users. But I had also had a few family members use it for prayer / seance. It was where I had my ancestor alter set up, (as did my ex, opposite parts of the room), and I started to build a huge spiritsmo altar that was venerating the spirits from spirism / 21 divisions / spiritismo ;mesa blanca: & the tradition of Haitian voudou (the 7 lines/ and my own court) id been taught & was connecting with.
Plus separate altars for various ceremonial magick practices, which would come and go as needed. It was a huge reason we chose this house, manifesting it via espiritsmo workings, and as per my workings to move down there (I feel as im not formally initiated yet in 21 divisions or voudou) I have had to sacrifice my own body with injury to the spirits as I have not done any animal sacrifice.. The month we moved down I was shopping in the hard ware store for cleaning products & I fell and fractured my knee & elbow, it put me out of exercise & walking for 9 months.
The night of cancer new moon, July 6th 2024, will forever be my, first & most memorable, trial by fire, flame & blood under my ice cold winter natal moon sign; a perpetual irony. I was at a crossroads of choice, old me would of chosen to stay awake and take a bath to sleek deprive myself, but new me, chose to go to bed. Once in bed, I felt a split second instant of “discomfort”. My CPTSD was essentially the “compelling factor” that pushed me to push back my quilt, grab it and haul it downstairs, (well in the 6-7 stairs of a split level house), next to my “comfort” in the event I was scared. My huge aviary with 100 beautiful, magickal birds.
They would blanket me with their feather of protection and cloak me into safety. Not even noticing that candles were burning, as candles were always burning day and night, 24/7. In our home. If I wasn't home, my ex (not my ex at the time) but he worked from home so someone was always there.this weekend he and his girlfriend, by my request, had left so j could do my rituals and I was under duress from him and I having lots of… negative times.
I won't say anymore.
I was used to candles, he was. I made them and did this all the time. The fire alarm was only sparked once in the 3 yrs we lives there from incense when ng friend & I had lit a lot once in the first few months of moving in, but i had the door closed & window closed, once we opened it, we figured it would ventilate the room.
Never again did I hear that smoke alarm, despite my candle making or candle burning day / night almost 365 days 24/7
I burnt many altar cloths
Melted wax on tables
Yes I'd broken glass
But I had my method to put out fires
Once years earlier I was even outside with my ex and my ugg boot had caught fire on our candle (2016), and the same year, my hair caught fire in my room. Never had anything else close to happening since.
I went to sleep on the lounge during or after listening to a podcast about the release of Julian assange and searching for the Illuminati card game they were mentioning. I was seeking the “deeper meaning” behind his seemingly random release and felt a bit uncomfortable about it.
In my slumber my birds meeped at a beep, but my mind thought back to a house I lived in during lockdown where the lithium battery made the smoke alarm faulty and the birds would always be annoyed when it woke them up with its persistence. It wasn't loud. 1 for a 4 bedroom house. I was only in a torsion field of feathers and smoke, an hour later, when I saw my birds & how scared they were, the room was filled with noxious, thick, toxic, hazy smoke, their tiny faces & their increasing cries for help echo in my mind.
My heart aches for them. I will never forgive myself for the eternal cries from the dove, canary & gouldian who I can never see again as my ex took them from me.
They all lifted me up, a bird - nado of such.
Torsion field, feather and song, fire & flame, canaries were trained to call for carbon monoxide in the coal mines. The doves with their warning song, and my finches, my eternal angelic cherubim of love & light; the gryphon Thunderbirds who have done the most heroic act known to avian kind. A collective fire fighting finch brigade, whirling a finch flight so whimsical it lifted me from the astral into the physical, across the room, near the dining table. Where I grabbed a table cloth, in a stupor, stumbling towards the stairs, into the orange smoky glowing fumes. Instead of smother, it sparked.
My hair and eyelashes alight.
I'm on fire, I smell the burning hair so my right hand instinctively reaches tk put it out. Luckily my thick mane protected my face from burning. But my finger was scorched. Under my feet, if felt like kindle, was being stomped on, as I stamped on the flames instinctively, without any control, I just reacted and my body was moving.bang bang bang
The flames burst higher
Stomp stomp stomp
The wooden shutters were now alight
It was an inferno, I had a bath of water up the hall, a laundry too. I could conjour a bucket, and perhaps it might go out. But by the time I got there the step into the laundry skilled under my feet. The light was out. The bathroom was the first sign of my feet stinging. Not noticeable. But it was the first pain. I couldn't get anything in the dark, so I ran back and noted how growing flames of fury were enveloping, in scope and size. Mg birds were in a wooden aviary 100kg + only meters away. I had to get them out and the last time I tried alone I got stuck. I was in sufuvvisl mode as I couldn't let them die. I flung furniture across the flore and threw the sliding doors open, hauling the aviary half way out with sheer will alone, noting I needed help.
“FIRE FIRE FIRS FIRS FIRS HELP
I didn't care for myself, it as my angels my beautiful feathered winged babies, who were my priority.
I ran up the side of the deck, through the side gate, up the stairs, one side as a vacant block. The air bnb usually full on Saturday was black and vacant.
The only choice was the other neighbour ul up the hill. “FIRE FIRS FIRE HELP!” minites were hours, but every second counts here.
I ran slamming into their windows and smashing my hands arms and body into the fribt door and window. I'm lucky the wife, Stephanie answered. “Call the fire bridgade!” I screeched like a banched in the night, my throat raspy with smoke inhalation.
She tried to grab me bht j grabbed her and told her my childrsb were inside, it felt like 10 minutes of deliberation until I had her convinced that she needed to be helping with the pulling out the rest of the birds avairy “I cannot do it, its too hard” I think u was pulling and pushing as the birds aviary doors flew open in the crisp winter night, and she plundered.
I don't even remember her saying much outside of me being inside was going to kill me, and me telling her “losing them would kill me more”.
Then she tried to crash tackle me to the ground once the birds were safely outside as I had a second wind of courage and went to the garden house and fled back inside with the hose “the fire bridage are here” was her attempt to lure me out as she gripped mg arms and I squirmed into the fury of the blaze. The moment the heat hit the nozzle, it fell to the floor, flaccid with the fury of the inferno burning the meek garden hose into oblivion. The flames danced, leapt and twirled above my head but in my mind I tbkight if I stand in front of the birds I can stop the path towards them and thus they will be safe and most of the house might be ok. I reasoned with myself into the decision to be inside the burning room.
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