Don't tell me my trad doesn't have moments of wild communion with our Gods.
We were keeping the full moon, tonight, and so graced with the Presence of the divine that Husband is now dead asleep in the bedroom.
Cats under the altar. Rednecks outside with fireworks. Frankincense and myrrh competing with the smell of dog. But here, in this most humble of temples, this most profane of holy places, we knew our Gods. Ecstatically, totally, joyfully. We got some major gnosis.
There's a reason for orthopraxy, babies. A set form means They can come through like water; when you don't have to think about how, you get the full killer heaven rush of why.
And now, time for bed.