☽ Glitter Tomb ☾ (Tribes, Cults, and Nonsense)

Tribes, Cults, and Nonsense

cosmic forest people/tribe of the big glitter in the sky:

a forest person is someone who worships the earth, sees the one in many and the many in one, regards humanity as part of one tribe that glorifies all colors and excludes no one, puts flowers and glitter in their hair, celebrates the great divine, fills everything (s)he does with beauty and love, is a sun or moonchild, practices or appreciates the nature of the occult, howls at the sky, loves and keeps loving people and spreading goodness, creates, banishes hate, lives nirvana on earth.

i think we should all aspire to be cosmic forest people. ॐ

Cosmic Forest People, given power by the Thunder Spirits of the West, the stardust from which they came, and the totem animals that guide and protect them

XXX

we all have little buddhas inside of us, we just have to wake them up when we’re in a hazy slumber. we’re all star people. filled with goddesses and dragons and faerytales. we forget to touch and breathe the nature and beauty all around us. all we need to do is paint bindis on our foreheads, adorn ourselves with glitter and crystals, get lost in the woods, open all of our eyes, braid flowers into our hair, balance the yin and yangs of our many inner worlds, learn to love asymmetry and chaos, laugh at the world because it’s gorgeous and crazy and hilarious to be alive, share our cosmic selves with those around us, create, vibrate peace, hug our sisters and brothers, throw tea parties, read books, kiss our chakras, call ourselves princes and princesses, and the little cosmic forest person inside of all of us will yawn and stretch their rainbow limbs and touch the sun and moon and stars! <3

sun children live and thrive under the sun. they have rays of light in their hair, freckles on their skin, and smiles in their eyes. you might find a sunchild frolicking at the beach, rolling in a field with flowers in their hair, or sitting on a rooftop, basking in the warm glow.

moon children live and thrive under the moon. they have moonbeams in their hair, candlelight on their skin, and ghosts in their eyes. you might find a moonchild spinning under the stars, worshipping the full moon, or sitting on a rooftop, counting the constellations they can name.

lady-deer cult of the big glitter in the sky (not the tribe):

no-boys-allowed tribe of gypsy faerys with kaleidoscopic eyes, acid-washed souls, and feathers in their hair… who pick mushrooms by the moon and look for crystals under the desert sun. smeared with mica, henna, and body paint. popping pills, howling at the big glitter in the sky, and spinning under psychedelic stars. riding unicorns at the bottom of the ocean and smoking blunts on mars. we wear ceremonial animal costumes, worship the universe and the goddess inside while dancing and chanting around a roaring fire, drink soma and touch the face of god, run with wild horses, climb mountains covered with flowers, and take baths in tea. everything we do smells like incense and is covered in glitter and flecks of marijuana. we rise early and sing to the rising sun. we meditate in space. we do peyote with coyotes under the stars and blow bubbles with martians. the world is our peach and the juices are running down our faces and making us sticky with cosmic delight.

Typical Week for the Cult of the Psychedelic Crystal Moon Mushrooms (aka Lady-Deer Cult of the Big Glitter)

Day 1: Wake early. Brew tea filled with honey, peaches, and daydreams. Meditate as the sun rises. Give thanks to the Mother Goddess, the Universe, the Buddha, the Holy Mushroom, and to all Humanity. Cook a breakfast to be shared by the cult. Leave an offering of flowers, turquoise, and crystals for the Mother Goddess and leave a plate of food and some water to feed hungry ghosts. Pack a picnic and take a hike through the desert. Hunt for mushrooms, crystals, and skulls along the way. Drink from the cacti. Tie desert flowers in each others hair. Climb a mountain and eat a picnic of vegetables, fruit, and fresh baked bread as we watch the sun set. Build a fire and dance around it like wild tribe monsters. Smoke the dark herb, drink pomegranate wine, and paint on each other. Fall asleep on top of the mountain, cuddled together like little rainbow kittens.

Day 2: Sleep in as the sun rises above us and wake up to coffee and veggie burgers cooked over a fire. Gather in a circle and read poetry aloud about the beauty of the earth and all its inhabitants. Wash away hangovers by sharing lemons and water in a hippie circle. Climb back down the mountain and return to our home. Feed pet coyotes. Water cacti. Tend to the herb garden. Laze around, reading books, playing music, studying Witchcraft and Hinduism, making art, and nursing headaches. Cook a big soup for dinner. After dinner, take peyote and do a walking meditation. Lay out under the stars and talk about aliens and faeries and dinosaurs and flowers and cowboys and deep-sea monsters. Chain smoke cigarettes and watch the colors of the earth swirl under the desert sky. Meditate using colors and waves as we all fall asleep. Glasser or Venus Hum playing in the distance like a lullaby.

Day 3: We all write a line or two, celebrating the beauty of the earth, the almighty One, or each other. Eat a quick breakfast of granola and mimosas and paint a mural in the living room while dancing to tribal music. Some of us go on a group trip to town an hour away and pick up glitter, christmas lights, incense, algonquin tea, flowers, and pretty rainbow skirts. We spend the day cleaning and decorating the house. We dance, smoke, drink, and eat intermittently. As the night moves along, we play Devendra Banhart, Tilly & the Wall, Mirah, Sia, The Ditty Bops, Beirut, Fleet Foxes, Caravan Palace, Sufjan Stevens, and Neutral Milk Hotel. We turn on the christmas lights and a strobe light and the house turns into a party playground. Glitter ends up on everything. That night as we go to bed, we light incense and drink our lucid dream tea. Occasionally, we wake up and share our dreams with each other. Some of us never sleep at all because we’ve gone to bed with each other or act likes cats and stay up until the sunrise. A few of us start a fire in the desert and don’t fall asleep until midday the next day.

Day 4: Work on the mural continues. Many of us are getting very excited because the full moon is soon. Water and crystals are being charged outside and special herbs and spices are being gathered in preparation. We sleep with our tarot decks under our heads and carry them in our pockets during the day. Today is a day for relaxing on the porch, smoking happy hookah, mending holes in clothes, and laughing with friends while sipping tea. Some of us sleep all day. Others of us travel to town to sell vegetables from the green house and art and trinkets we’ve made. We make a considerable profit, but not enough to cover our bills, so the house spends the night baking bread, making feather earrings, finding steals at thrift stores, painting moons, and crafting headbands. One of us decides to add a few more dreads to her head, so we watch movies, eat popcorn, dread her hair, and tie dye shirts, until we all pass out on couches with cups of cold tea still in our hands.

Day 5: The next day we all get up and travel to town by moped, by bus, and by bike. We sell our shirts and jewelry and baked goodies to the townspeople (who mostly think we’re exotic and crazy hippie scum), read the fortunes of little girls, and bellydance to Beats Antique to attract attention. A couple of us play ukulele, guitar, a toy accordion, and a wooden flute. The police discover us and chase us out, but we’ve still made a pretty excellent profit that day, so we splurge on some ice-cream and hair dye. The night consists of a Miyazaki film festival, way too much stinky, rainbow hair dye, and group yoga for those interested. We get crunk and sing about flying fish and dancing pink elephants. The night is like most others. Improv dance parties to Yelle, M.I.A., Lady Gaga, MGMT, Passion Pit, Freezepop, Queen, The Violent Femmes, Shiny Toy Guns, “Every Time We Touch”, and “Sandstorm” because they are beautiful guilty pleasures and we’re little girls who can do whatever we like! Chain smoked cigarette plumes filling the air. Too much perfume and jewelry and lipstick kisses. Stickers on faces and painted nails. Telling stories of our past, dreaming about the future, giggling about the present. Drunkenly screaming along to Irish drinking songs and fist pumping to heavy metal. ”Throw up, pass out, wake up, and then we’ll drink it once again!”

Day 6: One of the girls found some mushrooms while exploring the desert, so dinner will be mushroom bisque, bowls of dried cranberries, and chocolate-cherry coffee for us. We decide it’s a Simon & Garfunkel kind of morning, so we blow smoke bubbles and sing along. The rest of the day is in preparation for the full moon this night. We gather charged crystals and purified water, find and make offerings for the moon, clean our bodies and our clothes, cook for the house, let incense drift through the rooms, and bless our acid house. We give thanks for our dinner and eat in humming silence with candlelight. As the sun is going down, we travel to our favorite spot in the desert, a little clearing surrounded by brush and tall, tall cacti on all sides. We place and light candles in the four compass directions, organize our assorted tools on the desert ground, and place crystals, tarot decks, and deity statues (a stone buddha, a bronze ganesh, hand-crafted gaia and mother goddess statues, and a painted ceramic mushroom) in the middle of the circle. We gather around, take off our tops, rub mica into our skin, and raise our hands up to the night sky. The moon is fully above us, casting down celestial light. We play drums and shake maracas. Our coven chants and performs the appropriate rites of a full moon ritual, and sing songs to our deities. We draw down the moon and drink her moon juice. A cup is passed around the moon circle and we all let a couple drops of our blood fall into it. As it passes around a second time, we drink from the cup and offer some to the moon. When the ritual ends, a bag of mushooms is passed around and we take and eat.

Day 7: The shrooms take us on a psychedelic journey that continues well into the next day. We gather our cards and knives and wands and crystals and herbs and statues into bags and fly around the desert, pretending to be little Alice in Wonderlands. We spin until we get dizzy and sparkle like a million beautiful little stars. We hold hands and kiss and dance around each other and whisper little secrets about the universe into each others ears. Some says something funny and we laugh and roll around in the sand. We are dirty, broke, beautiful, and free. We draw in the earth and on each other. We sing “Whiskey is My Kind of Lullaby”, look to see how big each others’ pupils are, light sparklers, laugh at nothing, chase lizards, and eat oranges as we travel home. When we start coming down, we write about our travels and smoke weed to start hallucinating wiggles in each others fabrics again. The tub is filled with petals and lavender and rose oil and we scrub ourselves clean and smother wet bodies with bubbly kisses. We pass out in warm beds and wake up the next day to do it all over again.

how would you describe a CFP?

lipstick kisses, lavender incense, rose oil, turquoise mountains, quartz crystals, blooming tea, black witches in magickal caves sewn with constellations. Kosmick. infinitely complex cosmic beauty. i don’t think there is a word to describe it. i’m trying to define the indefinable beauty of stars. i am trying to trap infinity in the box. sometimes, words are rendered useless.

pixie shaman of the cosmic dance. this is the best i can think of.