The Toad

I've always loved toads. I talk to them, I feed them, and I briefly kept a "toad" I purchased from a pet store (in reality a Cranwell's Horned Frog) as a much-beloved pet before it decided to try and fit it's food dish into it's stomach and choked to death. Yes, Cranwell's are not very smart frogs.

For most of my life I've rescued frogspawn from receding puddles, and later released them in our native pond. Sometimes they were toads, sometimes frogs, and once - Salamanders. I like to spend time every evening (weather permitting) sitting on the porch, sipping a cup of tea, and bashing crickets with my sandal before tossing them to the waiting chorus of toads.

Recently I shocked, amused, and disgusted a few people by rescuing a small toad from a busy sidewalk, perching him on my table, and doing a tarot reading for him outside of starbucks. His reading, incidentally, said he would meet a new friend, travel to a new home, and find love. Who was I to argue with the cards? I brought him home to my pond.

I discovered, through recommendations, the works of Andrew Chumbley (and David Shulke), and eventually stumbled upon ONE and The Leaper Between. I was enthralled, and intrigued. With my affinity for toads, and my time in the occult community, it's a wonder I had never heard of the Waters Of The Moon (at least -as such- *) prior to this.

On one hand I was drawn to the concept, on the other - understandably cautious. No sooner had I heard the term "toadmen" than people began warning me of the dangers involved. Of how I could assure I'd never have another night of sound sleep if I did it. Of how people engaging in the Toadbone rite "absque superiorum privilegio" end up insane, dead, or worse. And so I said "Well, I tell ya what. If a GOLD toad shows up on my front stoop, lets me handle it repeatedly, and keeps coming back I may just take that as a sign of privilege, how's that?"

And a gold toad decided to start showing up. I would call it's color a "curry cream", not overtly argent, but it's golden in toad terms. It doesn't care if I pick it up, but if anyone else goes near it it hops away. It gave me pause.

I've been a Witch now for a very long time. Doors close, doors open and one becomes aware of things they had not previously considered. One also recalls, with new clarity, Mysteries shared long ago.

* My initiator used to talk about how certain infatuations or predilections of mine were dangerous, or at the very least would not bode well if I followed them through. His assertion was that while Chaoism was grand, Chaos didn't pay the bills, or keep you sane. The Occult could as easily devour you as uplift you. And he would give me very angry looks when I said "I am enriched by death."