Tag Archives: spiritual

A word to hexers, haters and jealous people in general

A word to hexers, haters and jealous people in general

I am starting to take up art again, this time with an idea to try and make a living from it in a few months’ time, by then I would have developed friends in art and a little more self confidence in my painting work. 

I am still sick, that is something that will never change, in fact recently I have been told it could get much worse, but I am trying hard to pull through and make some kind of a life for myself despite all of the bad mojo trying to pull me down every once in a while, you would think it would have something better to do than to concentrate on picking on me, but never mind, they love me so much they just can’t stop thinking about me, which in a dark and psychotic way is kind of nice of them to think so much of me, I don’t think anyone else does to be honest, which makes them my greatest lover I suppose?

Yes, recently I have started to believe I am cursed, but then what do you expect from someone who is both spiritual and a lover of horror movies?  I’ve had such a long lasting run of bad luck with my health and personal life that I had to eventually come to the conclusion I have pissed off one too many witches during my life, for simply existing.  Lol

Anyway on a more serious note, it is true; I do believe the above statement. 

Despite this, I have to admire them for wanting to be involved in my life so much.  Hate can be as deep as love and just as obsessive.  In a strange kind of way, hate and love are the same thing, as you spend so much time thinking about the things you hate, like you do with special person you actually love, you give it the same attention, sometimes you even neglect the ones you actually love in favour of spending your time thinking more of the ones you hate.  It’s a strange kind of world when you think about it.

So when all is said and done, I am quite flattered of the attention I am getting, no matter how abysmal it makes my life.  I sort of feel sorry for the person who hates me to such a degree, because although I do not believe in karma, I do believe that you always reap what you sow and I believe in the sins of the father, despite not being a religious person personally.  So in a manner, it is not me they are cursing, but their own children; which is painfully sad for me, to think about.

Despite these setbacks, I will try, no matter how much I cry in pain each day with my ailments, as I do cry – so do please, enjoy that statement dear haters as I am sure you will, I will try and get along in my life and make the best I can of the cards you are dealing for me.  With a glad and happy heart, I will drag myself through the Hell you are creating for me and I will revel in any successes I may have in the future, whilst you are still sitting back on your posteriors, wishing that you had a taste of my supposed glorious life still.  Well by all means, you are welcomed to having a full three course meal of my life, if you so wish for it, you are welcomed to it and I really do hope that you choke on it.

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Filed under Brain Drain & Dribbles

I am the redeemer

Out from the corner of my eye, I see the world’s pain.

Just because I do not react, does not mean that I am not sane

I remain, neutral, in my neutral stance

I cannot bear to see you suffer, but I cannot stop your circumstance

Though you may fall and become weak and you may do crazy things

I am here to redeem your soul and hear you once again sing

Though you are desperate and cannot walk

I am here for you

I am waiting for your cue

I am here to redeem you

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Filed under Poems G - I

Vikings & Hob-Goblins

During the last week of December I have been researching mostly by accident Hob-Goblins and by design Vikings and their respective histories, customs and superstitions around the world.

I have had a Viking story brewing in me for decades but with no firm story grasped and I have had some new ideas regarding this, but because I know very little about Vikings as a collective, I felt that some research was necessary.  I found it weird that an idea I had about Odin actually clashed with mythological truth, it must have been something I learned once but had forgotten it.  The bit about the 8 legged horse.

As a teenager I ventured into spirituality first by learning about Norse witchcraft, the runes, the drumming, the festivals etc., but I never learned more about the mortal Viking history, like I am doing now.  I did know about their war traditions and their units, such as the screeching women and the berserkers through a game I used to play called Rome Total War.  Regarding Viking warfare and general ancient warfare, I would fare well in writing about it because of the amount of historical research I’ve done throughout my life regarding the subject as well as coming from a military family background.

By and large though, I know more about Spartan and Roman day to day life than I do the Vikings.  Which is why I am disappointed to find that the books I am finding at the library are mostly mythological.

I know it sounds funny to think about it, but I have learned more from watching “The Hairy Bikers” and “Gordon Buchanan’s” ventures in Scandinavia regarding food and dance than anything I’ve learned in books.

In fact, even more laughable is the fact that it is easier to learn more about the superstitions of the Hob-Goblin or Santa Claus than about the ancient Viking people.

There is one thing I have learned though and that is in Viking times it was a derogatory term to be deemed “A Viking” for it literally means “PIRATE”.  This was very interesting to learn.

I am learning accidentally about Hob-Goblins because of a book my son was gifted by his friend Alice.  This is the fourth calling to learn about Hobs and house folk in the past 18 months, something is pulling me towards them.  I have no idea what it could be, I have no idea of any story interest I might have in writing about them… yet.  But something is definitely trying to get my attention with this little creature.

I am a very spiritual person, so I believe in little folk like these and recently when I have been reading about them more actively and reading snippets out loud for my son Henry to overhear, I have noticed that the whole house is becoming more accident prone with food and drink and according to legend, this is a sign of a hungry or thirsty and very ignored little house hob.

Funnily enough, along with this, my husband has discovered that his tea is going down faster these days.  So now we have started to make an extra cup of tea in the kitchen and it seems to have stopped the accidents and weirdly enough an inch in the cup has gone down!

I have a lot of experience with all kinds of spirits in my life.  I have never done drugs and I rarely drink, if there is anything to wander about it is my sanity I suppose – but why do we shrug such things off and think someone nuts when little jewels like this are revealed?  Why is it so hard to believe in little fair folk and ghosts but it is fine to believe in God?  Really now, what is the difference?  Oh and for those hard-core atheists, just remember you can’t see ultra violet light and infrared without technology but it exists doesn’t it?  I rest my case.

I was told by a friend recently that my little forays into the spirit realm should be a subject for my blog, because it aligns with fantasy and horror for many people.  This is why I am starting to mention such things.  It has always been a part of me; I just never put it in the blog. 

Hob-goblins in particular have always been something I have been nervous of because of the stories of boggarts and trolls, though trolls are very different to boggarts and hob-goblins.  The nervousness stemmed from a horror movie I watched when I was little and it gave me nightmares, but these days I realised the movie was actually a fantasy comedy and I can’t help laughing every time I see it now.  “Troll” where I believe the real first Harry Potter came from!  A young boy’s sister is kidnapped into fairy world by an evil troll who was formerly a wizard who went bad and got turned into a troll as punishment by his former fiancé – the witch known as Eunice of whom the boy known as Harry Potter befriends in order to save his sister and all his neighbours in their apartment from the evils of the troll unleashing fairyland into the mortal world once again.  The movie was made in 1986 and stars Julia Louis-Dreyfus.

Obviously also, hob-goblins are found in the wonderful movie “Labyrinth” starring the late David Bowie, one of my most favourite all time fantasy movies where a young girl called Sara makes a wish she will soon regret, regarding her baby brother Toby.  The King of Goblin City descends upon her and makes a bargain that she has just 13 hours to find her baby brother in his labyrinth of surprises and dangers or else her baby brother will become a goblin forever!  A wonderful story, full of inspiration!

I wonder what my mind will make of these Hob-Goblins someday… I can’t wait to find out!

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Filed under Myths & Legends

Follow the path of the dove

I am floundering in a world that’s diverse
But the diversity is a mess
People hate each other even at their best
No one realises that they are the same
No one sees the similarities
It’s insane
It hurts my brain
I know religions and I study them all well
I follow none, on me; they do not cast their spell
But many are enchanted by their promises and their hopes
But I do not follow them; I see it worse than dope
And many do attack me, for my flimsy and secular ways
They think I don’t believe in god and that he creates
But I do, but I won’t name god and I won’t give him a sex
I do not know if they are male or female and I don’t know if our behaviour they even check
Do they care about our ways, whether we are good or if we’re bad?
Do they think there’s a code to life we must follow to be glad?
I don’t know and neither do you, so why do you follow texts?
Texts that are written by other men to control their nations via pretext
Oh I see the spell that you are under
I see it all too clear
But to tell you all, you won’t have it
At me you will snipe and jeer
Yet you will kill for your god and your ways
Though your texts they tell you don’t
You do so anyway because…?
You know not do you? You don’t!
So tell me why you’re so enchanted, when religion causes war?
When your own texts tell you not to and you do so because the law…
Why do you stand for murder when your beliefs are threatened so?
Why do you argue with your brother because he is different? Lo…
Can’t you see the mess you’re in? Can’t you see the spell?
Can’t you see it’s not just you, but other beliefs as well?
It is better not to label oneself, for the good of all mankind
It is better to live together in peace, be good and happy and kind
Keep away from the toxic faiths that turn you from other men
Turn away from those paths and then…
You will see such happy times, of peace and love and compassion
You will know then what heaven is, if you forget your violent passions
You cannot be a good spirit, if your heart is full of hate
You need to think another way, do not be afraid to cross that gate
I think you will see it is a blessed life, when you turn your hate into love
I think this is what you need to do to follow the path of the dove

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Filed under Poems D - F

The Watchers of the forbidden world

copyright Tina Cousins FantasyFed 2016

copyright Tina Cousins FantasyFed 2016

 

The cloud rises, twists and twirls around the forbidden mortal world
Hues of blue and grey and white forbids the passage to their sight
Unseen we are the hidden ones, forbidden to enter, forbidden to come
No one knows we are here, their cries of sadness we often hear
Forbidden to answer their prayers and cries
Forbidden to help them, unless they die
We cannot go to take their pain, we can only watch and hear in vain
We cannot cross through their gate

We can only watch their terrible fate
We are the gods they pray will come
But it’s not our world, it is not our sun
We cannot control what goes on there
Only guide them to the heavenly stair
We are forbidden to touch and be, where the mortals live and breath
We are the watchers of their endless plight
The protectors of eternal light
We are your warriors we are your knights
We tuck you into dreamtime at night
We are not evil, we are not cruel
It is not our place to rule mortals
We aren’t heartless, we aren’t depraved
We are there and ready to save
You are mortals and we are not
We are the ones that you’ve forgot
We are tender and we are true
And we’ll always be there for you
But we cannot enter through the mortal gate
We can only watch your fate
And lend a hand to the path of death
At the time of your last breath
So carefully we will take your hand
And take you to our immortal lands
Where life has set you free to be
Another watcher like me

 

 

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Filed under Short Story Series

Conversation with a tree

copyright 2016 Tina Cousins

copyright 2016 Tina Cousins

I had a conversation with a tree today.
The tree told me about the deforestation that his friends were experiencing in some parts of the forest.
He told me that this didn’t bother him much, you see, you have to see the positives of life; that even in death, there is everlastingness.
I asked him what he meant and he explained that nothing that dies is wasted, not truly. Even in death you have your uses, you are needed, and you still exist.
I asked about spirits and reincarnation to him, but he simply replied, perhaps, but there is more to it than that.
Take me, for instance, said the tree. When the woodcutters come to claim my life, I may still have my roots to keep me alive, but if that isn’t to be the case, you must think. What do the woodcutters make from me? Wood to burn to enhance their life for a few hours so they do not freeze to death in winter? Then I become ashes and what becomes of those ashes? Those ashes are still a part of the wonderful circle of life; I become potash for various floras, bringing life into this world, simply by my dying.
I sat fascinated and watched the wind rustle his leaves, too in awe to speak.
The tree continued on with his explanation, with patience and love. I am made into paper, for your journal, enriching the lives of humans by whatever the pages contain within, a store of knowledge, a canvas for art, a visual guide to places you may never have a chance to go to if it weren’t for me.
If not a book then shelves to put them on or I might become the chair that you sit in to read those books, or the bed that you lie in to dream about those books and art pieces.
I may become part of the tools that cut my friends down, giving them a new lease of life and usefulness.
When I am gone and I am cut down, homes may be built in place of where I stood. Perhaps farms will develop here and feed the world? Or perhaps my offspring will grow in my place?
Death is not the end, but it is the beginning of new things.
As to the subject raised earlier, yes, I do believe in spirit and I believe that with the spirit of nature everything is eternal; it just depends on your perception of it; of course, most people’s perceptions about it are wrong.
They cloud themselves up in the dark negativity of everything, which they don’t allow themselves to see the light and what a positive thing it can be.
I thanked the tree for his insight and went home to write this for you.

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Filed under Short Stories

Groundhog system

The universe is a hippy utopia
Bursting with kaleidoscopic colors
Swirls of millions of other worlds
Churning new life daily
Mere ingredients for life
We’re all a part of this recipe
The recipe for life and destruction
An ever flowing of eternity
An endless groundhog system
In which there is always life
With death
Then death
With life
Forever

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Filed under Poems G - I

Feather Boy

About ten years ago I watched a lovely fantasy series called “Feather Boy” on the television and I was taken by it completely enough to finally read the book; a book I was lucky to find at a charity shop a few weeks ago; such a beautiful tale about a little boy who is bullied and is then asked by his school to do a project at the local care home, where he had to befriend one of the elder residents.
He gets chosen by a lady called Edith Sorrel; this took the boy (called Robert) by surprise as he is the boy that never gets chosen for anything. Little did Robert know at the time that the reason behind Mrs Sorrel’s request for them to work together on the project was because Robert resembled her long dead son, David!
The story starts off like a mysterious ghost story; there is a mild horror element to it for the age range it’s aimed at (9 to 13yrs) and some very mild swearing. However, the gist of the story was that Mrs Sorrel wanted Robert to visit an old house she knew of thirty years ago; a house that is utterly derelict and has a bad history that gives the local children the heebie jeebies. The true story however was less adventurous and in Robert’s mind, disappointing.
The story teaches a lesson, a lesson that it’s easy to make something out of nothing; easy to misunderstand people and have an overactive imagination. The story is written around an old story about a prince who wouldn’t speak and a great firebird. This story is all about rebirth on many levels, it’s quite a spiritual book, very touching and for the first time in my life I have actually cried at an ending I knew would happen.
So, if you love tales about rebirth, revenge, growing up, courage and phoenixes, this book is very much for you.

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Filed under reviews

Erin Cooper, Artist and Friend.

The below links will take you to the work of a wonderful fantasy artist friend of mine, Erin Cooper from Fort Wayne, Indiana, USA.

https://www.etsy.com/shop/ShadoWind?ref=pr_shop_more

http://www.zazzle.com/shadowind_erincooper

http://shadowind.deviantart.com/gallery/

She is the artist behind this websites banner and as you can see her skills in fantasy art are extensive, beautiful and an inspiration.

Erin is able to captivate any image I request of her for my work in more ways than one. In future, I hope that she would be considered as my illustrator for books I might have published – though I am an artist myself, Erin’s skills far outweigh my own.

I first found Erin online in a spiritual forum back in 2005 and we bonded almost instantly on so many levels, spiritually and artistically as well as forming a long-distance sisterly relationship that still goes on to this day.

We are each other’s rock and we have both been through so much together.

A lot of my writing and art wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for Erin, purely because Erin is the first proper artist I’ve ever known (proper as in, have actually sold art). I say that a lot of my writing wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for her, because we talk online a lot about my stories – we talk like we are the characters to one and other and she helps feed me another point of view. This is something we have never tired of, to us, in our conversations, if we were ever overheard or read, people would think that the things we talk about are real and would probably have the both of us locked up.

It is hard to find someone like Erin who actually talks like this long-term with me. My husband Paul does this with me a lot too, and I used to have four other friends who would do this, but they got tired of it after so many years. Erin however, has made it her mission for my written worlds to be as real as the real world to her and this I thank her for.

Erin has helped me grow in confidence that I am capable of producing my own artwork, she has given me hints and tips and videos of how to sketch and paint effectively and even how to market my work on zazzle and etsy.

I highly recommend you contact Erin for commissions; she is very dedicated to her work and will work tirelessly to produce whatever work you desire from her, outside of her livery duties.

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Filed under My inspirations

Depths of blackness

In the depths of blackness I hear the cries of creatures drowning in their own sorrows of the thick dark night.

Souls wretched and souls bereaved, crying out to the night for love and release.

The fires of torture burn through their brains, in an agonizing heat wave how can they be saved?

Swimming through the whiny larvae of their new found home, sinking floating, choking on volcanic foam.

Tortured souls how can they be released?

How can they suffer anymore than this? For what is the purpose, isn’t this insane?

To see tortured victims burn up in the flames?

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Filed under Poems D - F