Bøger af Ly De Angeles

Witchcraft is as old as humanity. In the caves of Lascaux, in modern day France, are the images of the magic of the summoning of the hunt, painted perhaps 20,000 years ago. On the tundra of Siberia, the shaman is summoning a soul back to the body of an ill child, and they do not die. The Northern Paiute introduce the Ghost Dance to unite the living with the dead, to achieve the numbers necessary to defeat the invaders. In Australia an Illapurinja, a woman kurdaitcha, points the bone, and causes a just death, to avenge a severe wrong. Witch is anarchist. Witch is also heretical, in the original meaning of the word: the right to choose. Anarchist, not in the politically divisive slander of misrule, rioting and carnage, but in the sense of having and requiring no leader. Witch is the soughing of a breeze in the treetops and waves, like kelpies, in a hurricane. Witch is desert, and the cobbled lanes of Melbourne, Birmingham, New York, Prague and Brasilia. Witch is the whir and hum of a spindle, binding those known to harm others, with each action. Witchcraft is not a religion. We do not worship. To know more is to read these pages. This gathering of, (mainly) Celtic lore, as well as contemplations, span fifteen years of the author' life. It is hoped some of this work will assist witches, still trapped by the bigotry and condemnation of societal stereotyping, to be true to their practices. To no longer feel the need to explain. This is for my friends, all over the world, who have long informed me they don't want, or need another 101, or 'how to' manual. Come and sit with me. The woodstove is warm, and the candles are lit. I'll make us both strong coffee, or gentle tea. Put your bare feet up on my table, or the hound's'll make you wish you'd taken some advice. Make yourself at home and... stick around a spell.

Celtic mysticism, prior to the Roman invasion of Britain, is written in a scholarly but storytelling weaving - a tapestry of history - because this knowledge would otherwise be hidden. Many books have attempted to present the animism of the tribal people of Albion, called priten for the tattoo art (called "painted people") and most have failed for one reason: the indigenous peoples are described in the past tense, alleging that they have long since died out. The invaders, genocidal perpetrators and colonisers of what is now known as England, Scotland and Wales, Ireland, the Outer Hebrides and more, have attempted to eradicate the lore, law, customs, language, culture and spirituality of us, these first people. In many instances rape and assimilation through force have come close to breeding us out. De Angeles delivers the soul of an ancient but living people, their valour and humor, the struggles they fight to maintain a traditional way of life, and that still live. The author is a direct descendant of Caradoc ap Cunobelin, one of those struggling for self determination.To many reading this it will be the first time they have heard the names of these historic people, let alone celebrate their kinship with them. This could very well be your own family. Forgetting is the sleep of freedom.

While it is often that the case that prejudice allocates good people to potentially evil, by appearance only, evil can sometimes present as benevolence. While some applaud what is presented as the wholesome overthrowing of a despotic regime, others will know as fascism. Or religious supremacy. Or moral superiority. History often eventually births evidence of a greed-driven fallacy.MERCY RILEY is thrust into life in the cramped, cold little room down back of Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrows Mother and Baby Home. In the rarely-visited coastal village of Weary Bay. A place of shame, Mercy is born and raised a secret. Never permitted to know her mother, her name concocted for expedience by strangers. While social acceptability is not her destiny neither is obscurity and around the age of thirteen she escapes. Lost and vulnerable she is discovered and aided by Black Annis, not even slightly mortal. Taken in by the Travelers she is sequestered, for her protection and education, with Maisie Raith the Weary Bay's generations-long practitioner of witchcraft, where she learns some semblance of what it means to live beyond a walled, barred institution. She learns to heal and foretell a person's death through tarot cards, but she is also taught-maybe randomly, maybe by design-to kill with precision.RAVEN, a wild faerie with the terrible curse of empathy, loves Mercy uttterly is reclusive, busted, dangerous and lost, has his heart brokenagain and again by injustice. The cop, HENRY WABAUN, who initially thinks nothing of his enquiry into Raven's bashing is drawn into the inevitability of the Great Mystery's plan for what is right.In the style of mixed folktales Mercy finds herself a piece on the chessboard of a brutal story. Her reason for existence woven into a tapestry of seeming confusion.At the very close of winter, the city of New Rathmore is rendered powerless beneath the frozen discord of a late season arctic ice vortex. The metaphor of From Winter, Spring is Born, is sung in folktales the world over; is anthropomorphized, of necessity, for children and should change as a youngster becomes adult but... What of truth? What is the game and how serious are the players? And where are the rules?Almost everyone underestimates Mercy Riley. Most do not realize she is not-and never will be-like them.WHO DONE IT?Characters are woven into THE CHANGELING in such a way as to confuse an opponent, or a reader, into believing they have answers that they do not. Each, however, is integral to Mercy's revenge, even when that revenge liberates her true nature. When springtime finally comes...?Is justice done? Who really knows? Because of the obscurity of possible violation presented, saccharned, by Disney? And is that real? How does santa claus, a tooth fairy and an egg-laying rabbit prepare a child for the reality of danger? Or love? Doesn't justice also depend on an individual's viewpoint? How can a person make meaningful choices when fed on fiction that always ends with a kiss? We are told so many things, as children, that are lies. Falsehoods dressed up in tutus, with wands topped with starlight. Tinkerbell castles. No one explains that castles were built from the ruin of indigenous peoples, do they?THE CHANGELING is not a pretty faerie story. It breaks the rules. It confuses and disturbs. Mercy fulfils one part of her destiny, when one part does not make a whole in a storytelling that is, hopefully, never ending.There is no redemption. No happy-ever-after. Just more.

SAVAGE - BODYWORKHealth, nutrition, resistance training wildcraft wisdom and a touch of witchAs a young witch, de Angeles learned the of the body/mind/spirit connection. Of living true to oneself and earth. As feisty and formidable as a wild creature at forty, and for many years after, all that knowledge seemed to unwillingly desert her. Because of menopause. Because of betrayal and the social bigotry of gender/age shaming. Warrior-trained, she summoned her inner champion, climbed the abyss of commonly-held profiling and rediscovered the seemingly-forgotten art of living beyond them. Author, witch, healer and scholar, she writes Savage - Bodywork to reassure all women and the odd bloke, to not despair. Take up the cause of self-determination. Be strong, and proud of how you live and who you are. Be that hoodoo hussy they all thought was an insult.At competition-level bodybuilding aged sixty-six, de Angeles teaches the weaving, howling, disgraceful and unconditional journey of limitless individuality.

Initiation is a memoir that reflects on the moral and ideological changes of the last sixty years. Written in a perennial voice de Angeles, witch, rewilds her own story and transforms cultural stereotypes into the language of myth.Witch people, like magicians and sorcerers, conjurers, druids and hoodoo hexers, like cunning women and cunning men, kadaichas, shamans, manitous, angakoks, curanderas, bruxas, noadis, enchanters and shapechangers are needed in this world. They are the stories not bound by dogma or displayed as relics in a museum. They cause disquiet. They summon questions but it's not their way to give answers. They take us to the wild and the frightening places. The cave entrance under the ice at the base of that crevasse. Blue handprints on the rock face imprinted with an ochre of confusion. By people we cannot name and from a time we cannot confirm. Once Upon a Time people. People of the reindeer. Volcano people.Born in 1951 and put up for adoption, de Angeles was sold by the church for £300. She was always going to be a problem.

MAGIC, MYTH AND MYSTERYThe rust bucket of a truck bumps down the track towards the highway, and Robin and Rose's eyes are fixed on the road ahead, him seeming to look for potholes that could crack the axle while actually keeping the spell strong, so she never thinks to look back. Before time came into existence there was only forever. Before the us we've come to relate to-cell phone and air travel and debt-there was wilderness. Oceans, vast skies, mountain chains frozen or volcanic, seasons of swelter or snow, endless, unchainsawed forests, and the sídhe mound beneath roundhouse fortress known as Castle Pook. There was fear, explicable only through tales of wonders and monsters.When Rose's father Ailín-a storyteller, Irish seanachaí-is murdered, seemingly senselessly, Rose buries him in Ireland near the grave of her mother. With secrets being unearthed, of gypsy magic, king's legends, and horsehair talismans, Rose is thrust into a way of seeing the world-an understanding of love-she never would have thought possible if he had not died. A deal made with a faerie man long ago.Is anything random? Or is everything that happens predestined?Robin leans in closely, intimately. "And in the lighted palace near, died the sound of royal cheer; and they crossed themselves for fear, all the Knights at Camelot…"Beginning with The Quickening, then The Shining Isle, UNDER SNOW is book 3 of the Traveler Series.

The Celtic magic and mysticism, prior to the Roman invasion of Britain, is written in a scholarly but storytelling weaving - a tapestry of history - because this story would not be true otherwise. Many books have attempted to present the paganism of the P/Briteni people and most have failed for one simple reason: the indigenous inhabitants are described in the past tense, alleging that they have long since died out. The brutal invaders, killers and colonisers of what is now known as England, Scotland and Wales have attempted to eradicate the lore, law, customs, language, culture and spirituality of those first people. In many instances rape and assimilation through force would have come close to breeding us out. De Angeles delivers the soul of an ancient and magical people, their valour and humour, the battles they fight to maintain a traditional way of life, and that still live. The author is a direct descendant of Caradoc, one of the heroes in that distant pasts' struggle for self determination.To many reading this it will be the first time they have heard the names of these historic people, let alone celebrate their kinship with them. This could very well be your own family.Forgetting is the sleep of freedom.

The Skellig is a woman. Most of the time. On the black of the moon she's another creature altogether. Insectoid.A deal she made, with the soul of earth known as the Grace, a few thousand years ago. Sometimes, over a couple of days, she's a bit of both.A desperate escape north is the only hope for thousands of runaways. Guided by an indigenous and immortal starman, the shape-shifting skellig, a Maori mystic named Mukata and Terrence, a scientist who should be the enemy but is not, make the journey. Bull and Rattlesnake Lil drive the silver bullet called the Midnight Express, packed to the rafters with escapees and hybrids. Alice, in his armored all-terrain, raises his rainbow pennant on a fifteen foot high middle-finger to the drone swarms overhead. A militarised force not far into their dust is intent on annhialation. The only escape is beyond the northern border a mighty, raging river, guarded by a mythic race called Álfur. It is live free or die.The year is 2156. Dystopia. Misrule. Pirates, badlands, transdrones, cowboys, rebellion. The story The Skellig tells is one of hope and redemption where hard tech and stainless steel meets legend and myth.

The island of Inishrún, small and forbidding, holds a deeply protected secret. The sidhé, a magical race as old as the earth, also known as fairies, live there. This is their final stronghold in a world that has forgotten them aged only by human cruelty.Holly Tremenhere, jaded and disillusioned by the ordinary world, travels across the wild sea from the coastal village of Weaey Bay, to the island on the second-to-last ferry before winter closes the crossing. She is there to unravel the mystery of who she truly is and the only living person who can tell her is her beautiful, estranged aunt, Mim.What Holly does not know is that some men will do anything for greed. Some she thinks are untrustworthy are good, and not all dogs are just dogs. She is about to be thrust into the heart of a mystery, a time out of legend and an inheritance that will forever change her; one that culminates in a magical but deadly redemption and a journey in time where love reunites.Including an Author's Note on the usurpation of indigenous lands and the entirety of the United Nations Declaration of Human Rights, this fairy tale is unique.

The shape of a woman moves from the darkness of the stone's shadow, a cloak of moths surrounding her insubstantiality. She takes her time. She takes Hunter's head between both hands, her fingers melting deeply into the thick fur ruff. Among us walk a race older than time, around us are doorways to other realities and people who are not seen, for who and what they truly are. Such are Hunter and Brighid, Black Annis, Willie and Raven, and the many others who keep magic alive in the world and who touch, in passing, those who seem lost merely because they have been blinded by disregard.The Quickening is a tale of human cruelty and its redemption. Of enchantment and lore. If you are lost, and need finding, perhaps the folk will come if you whisper your longing to the night.Winner of the COVR Visionary Fiction Award, 2006, USA

A witch, like the Earth, can be both immeasurably ancient and forever youngA witch realizes certain powers...represents, rather than worships them...invokes them; fuses with them, emotes and lives them; recognizes them in the vast forces of nature and beyond.This comprehensive manual sets forth the tenets of Witchcraft, and explains in depth why and how magic works. It includes tried and true methods for developing the magical will, along with religious training, ritual observances, and spellcrafting techniques. Witchcraft: Theory and Practice also: -- Describes unique practices such as fith-fathing, fetching, shapeshifting, and glamouring-- Tells how to identify and interpret omens and portents-- Includes instructions on astral travel, cleansings, banishings, and how to make something invisible-- Offers a guided ritual for self-initiationAll things come full circle -- reclaim the ancient power that sings within your blood through sacred ritual to the Earth and Moon and Sun and Stars.

Witch people, like magicians and sorcerers, conjurers, druids and hoodoo hexers, like cunning women and cunning men, kurdaitchas, shamans, manitous, angakoks, curanderas, bruxas, enchanters and shapechangers are needed in this world. We are the stories not bound by dogma or displayed as relics in a museum. We cause disquiet. We summon questions but it's not our way to give answers. They take us to the wild and the frightening places. The cave entrance under the ice at the base of that crevasse. Blue handprints on the rock face imprinted with an ochre of confusion. By people we cannot name and from a time we cannot confirm. Once Upon a Time people. People of the reindeer. Volcano people.

The Skellig is a woman. Most of the time. On the black of the moon she’s another creature altogether. Insectoid.A deal she made, with the soul of earth known as the Grace, a few thousand years ago. Sometimes, over a couple of days, she’s a bit of both.A desperate escape north is the only hope for thousands of runaways. Guided by an indigenous and immortal starman, the shape-shifting skellig, a Maori mystic named Mukata and Terrence, a scientist who should be the enemy but is not, make the journey. Bull and Rattlesnake Lil drive the silver bullet called the Midnight Express, packed to the rafters with escapees and hybrids. Alice, in his armored all-terrain, raises his rainbow pennant on a fifteen foot high middle-finger to the drone swarms overhead. A militarised force not far into their dust is intent on annhialation. The only escape is beyond the northern border a mighty, raging river, guarded by a mythic race called Álfur. It is live free or die.The year is 2156. Dystopia. Misrule. Pirates, badlands, transdrones, cowboys, rebellion. The story The Skellig tells is one of hope and redemption where hard tech and stainless steel meets legend and myth.