Hello jjtty witch inflatable! It's not every day that you come across such an unusual combination of words. At first glance, it seems like a random assortment of terms put together without any particular meaning. However, upon closer inspection, it's clear that there might be a hidden story behind these words. "Hello" is a common greeting, often used to express a warm welcome or start a conversation. It is a word that promotes communication and connection between individuals. The use of "hello" in this context suggests that there is some form of interaction or encounter taking place.
Now that’s not to say that modern witch practices/traditions are any better in terms of queer inclusion. Most of them emphasize heterosexuality and differentiate/delineate femaleness and maleness just as much if not more than Christianity, with the added kick of making them so diametrically opposed that one could be forgiven the assumption that the ONLY time they are capable of working together is when making life or magic. They also have become more capitalist in recent years, which in this writer’s opinion is the antithesis of spirituality.
I still believe in things like the divine feminine and whatnot, but I don t think that it cancels out the devine genderlessness or divine genderqueerness. Plato s proofs could convince neither his student Aristotle, who shared quite a few assumptions with him, nor Thomas Aquinas, who, as a Christian, would have liked to have had a proof for this teaching.
The use of "hello" in this context suggests that there is some form of interaction or encounter taking place. Now, let's move on to "jjtty." This term appears to be a unique combination of letters, devoid of an obvious meaning.
A Path Towards Self-Reverence, My Queer Spirituality
Be advised, the following is a dramatization of historical events: In the beginning, the Catholic Church created Heaven and Hell. And the peoples of the Earth were held hostage and chained by their manufactured fear and ignorance and worst of all hope. A fantastical book was written and compiled and used to bludgeon people. Nonbelievers were persecuted by uncountable orders of magnitude, and the Christians turned upon their Jewish and Pagan parents and ate them like Greek Titans in reverse. The kingdoms of this hypocritical Creator broke apart and bred and spread by blood and stone and sword till they covered most of this world. This religion, purportedly started by the Son of God Himself, grew from 1 carpenter and his 12 disciples to the world’s largest and most successful sex trafficking ring.
Growing up in the Bible Belt area of our purportedly Montheocratic country, Christianity and the imperialist, white supremacist, capitalist, patriarchal fanaticism it engenders was inescapable. I’ve spent a fair amount of time trying to eradicate those ways of thinking from my brain, and I know there is still more scrubbing yet to be done, and there probably always will be. When I was a child it was ingrained in me, among other things, that finding JOY was about serving Jesus first, Others second, and Yourself last, always. Obviously, this is not conducive to mental health or psychological stability. But what would I need either of those things for if I had Jesus as my personal savior??
A little bit of background info: My grandparents were raised Baptist, but my Nana converted after she experienced what was in her mind a true miracle at a Catholic holy site. Then their family took pilgrimages to Medjugorje, a Bosnian site of supposed miracles since 1981. Both my parents were originally baptized as Baptists but then converted before they were married, so I was raised as a Catholic by two converts, and just in case people didn’t know, converts tend to be the most hardcore followers. Despite this, they divorced shortly before I was born, which, if you didn’t know, is a big no-no in Catholicism, just ask Henry VIII.
Funnily enough, after I broke away from Catholicism and Christianity at large, both of them did too in their own ways. The woman who bore me turned towards soulless, appropriative, vapid New Agey systems but called herself a witch, and my father became a studied agnostic who occasionally makes jokes about “the mothership” and primarily relies on the text The Course of Miracles. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
As a child, I attended Mass plus bible study at least once a week, sang in the church choir, and of course attended extra times for holidays and special events. I was devout, and probably could have and would have grown up to become a priest if my grandmother had her way and I had been confirmed when I originally wanted to. I would have gone to seminary school and spent all my life in a cage, collared and shackled to ancient beliefs that have no bearing on modern-day life.
Most queer folx I’ve met who escaped the massive number of what I consider to be full-blown cults operating under the aegis of Christendom usually were alienated/ostracized because of their sexuality or gender identity conflicting with tenets of their church. They discovered something about themselves that made the relationship with their church untenable. In the Bible Belt, it is a too-common occurrence. I, however, perhaps sensing my future rejection, rejected the Church first. I left it because, by and large, I refused to associate or be associated with the people I went to church with. They were so cruel and hypocritical.
Not that there aren’t Christian Allies. Some of the most strenuous allies I’ve met were Christians. Most of my PFLAG meetings took place inside a church. And I do want to make it a point that my family never told me I was going to hell because I was gay/trans/queer, and that my extremely Catholic Nana Anne is perhaps the single best person I’ve ever met, unmatched in kindness, grace, and pure unconditional love. But in that, she is an oddity.
She is a self-professed sheep, which most of them are proud to be, and most of her flock is easily led by the likes of Pence and DeSantis and their ilk. The vast majority of them hate and revile us. Most of the queer youth that are unhoused on a daily basis are on the streets because they were rejected by their religious parents, over 70%. They consider us a social disease that preys on youth and innocence, and things like Hurricane Katrina and AIDS are God’s righteous judgment upon sin and sinners because that’s the way their world works. This is awfully hilarious in my opinion given the absurd number of child-touchers in their own ranks.
So I first had doubts about the Christian religion when I was 11, a few years before I discovered the sexual aspect of my otherness. That whole period of my life is vague (thanks PTSD. ) but I remember the reason I started doubting is because I had memorized most of the bible and wanted to be confirmed, which is a sacrament usually reserved for people 17 and older. In a way, I set upon the path of pagan witchhood because I was hell-bent on being a Christian!! The local diocese wouldn’t allow me to confirm early and they couldn’t give me a satisfactory reason why. I figured that I loved Jesus and knew all that I needed to know about him and his works and that I wanted to serve him all my life.
My manipulative mother used this to her advantage for as long as she could, insisting that selfishness and ingratitude were some of the great sins on par with pride or sloth, all of which she condemned me with. Well, you know what we queers think of pride. I was very proud of my ability to absorb and retain information ,so with my father’s tepid permission, I used his home computer to explore the world wide web (kids, that’s what we called the internet back then) for knowledge on the world’s religions.
I studied Abrahamic religions first, read translated excerpts from the Torah and the Talmud, and the Koran, delved into Taoism and Buddhism, sampled translated texts from Hindu sects, Amish records, Voudon and Santeria traditions, Gardnerian Wicca, Atheism/Agnostication, Satanism, Rastafarianism, and others. I was fairly lucky in that once I was out of Sunday school, neither of my parents could be bothered with any other kind of formalized religious education. I found out later that it was my Nana who paid for the Sunday school.
They made one overture to transfer me to an all-boys Catholic school, but I threatened to become a bad seed if they took me away from my friends. I sincerely promised to take up smoking and burn the school down, and they were smart enough to believe me. I was supremely lucky that when I confessed to my dad that I was exploring religions outside of Christianity, he told me he would support whatever choice I made. Years later, he was not nearly as chill when I told him I liked boys.
Initially, I decided to dip my toes in Pagan witchcraft and join a local Blue Star coven, but eventually, I trod on the path to becoming a Solitary Polytheistic Witch with an amalgamated pantheon. I also briefly entertained Satanism, Voudon, and Hoodoo, but I eventually settled on less formalized practices that were based on my ancestral pagan roots. That means that while I try to honor the ancestral pagan practices that I was able to uncover I am not bound by them, and I pray to goddesses and gods from several different religions, although not in the way Christians do.
I do not have a temple or church; the clouds above are my temple ceiling, and my altar is the ground I tread, and while I do celebrate a few choice Sabbats and holidays, every day I draw breath is a high holy day. Being a witch, in my experience, is a more spiritual choice than a religious one, which is in contrast to most Christians, who are more religious than spiritual.
Before I realized that I was queer, but after deciding to abandon “Christ the Godkiller who condemned the fruit of knowledge as evil,” (as I studied religious history that seemed a better descriptor than God or G-d), I refocused my personal style, which, like my sexuality, was up to that point irrelevant. Before, I wore whatever was purchased for me, but as I entered puberty, I started to prefer grays and greens and neutral colors. Silver became my favorite color because in my mind it was the color of pure magic. The five- and seven-pointed stars became my new favorite symbols. I stopped wearing crosses and started wearing runes and pentacles.
I started seeking and hanging out with the emo and goth and punk kids. I had my first romantic/sexual relationship with a fellow witchy young woman in 7th grade. We hung out in graveyards and passionately cursed our parents and bullies and charmed the people we had crushes on, did spells for money and luck, and success. Magic at this point was more a game than a practice. At this stage, we were a little better than the Christians we derided.
My girlfriend Kira was perhaps the first person I came out to as gay, and then she came out to me as a lesbian! It became a new source of insults, as bullies conflated my budding sexuality with my spiritual awakening. At first, I denied them; then I ignored them; then I started tormenting them back. I would mumble nonsense Latin phrases and hiss like a cat when I passed them in the halls, and sometimes they would actually be scared.
At the same time, the well-meaning Christians around me were noticing the changes I was going through and tried to help in their misguided ways. I was invited to a play that turned out to be a mass conversion event, where at the end the floor, of the stage was pulled away to reveal a giant Baptism pool. It was suggested seriously that I attempt an exorcism at one point.
I remember one specific instance wherein I called my storm goddess to “ride me” with a particularly intransigent Christian girl as a witness and she and I terrified that young woman. We called lightning and thunder down, and they answered the call before the words left our mouths. There was no malice; I simply wanted to prove to this Christian that my goddess was as real as her God. But of course, she saw it only as a demonic possession with a willing participant.
Once I was talking to Father Patrick, a squirrelly little man with wide eyes and a huge Adam’s apple, and I was saying that I still prayed, just not to his God. And he asked how I knew that what I was praying to wasn’t really demons and devils or Satan himself. And I replied, “Pretty much the same way YOU know.” And he did not like that one bit! I think that was the last time I was in the cathedral that I had prayed in all my life. But I knew that prayer didn’t have any restrictions, that you could talk to God or Goddess in any number of ways.
I was born into a family of people who truly do believe in miracles and demons because they have experienced both. I also experienced phenomena but I experienced them as omens to open my perceptions rather than signs from a hypocritical god. Perhaps because I was already on my way out the door when I received them.
I too went to Medjugorje, on a pilgrimage. It was a family tradition at that point. When I was 13, I joined the Sojourners of the Burning Heart of Christ. At that point, I had already left religion behind in my heart and soul and only went to church to spend time with my Grandmother and sing. But I went on the trip because I was young and wanted to go to Europe on someone else’s dime.
I met my future wife on that trip, and together we experienced a few “miracles” of our own. That isn’t sexual innuendo; we actually experienced things beyond the borders of our reality. We stared into the sun at midday, and it didn’t hurt our eyes. We followed a woman’s voice whispering our names and found an obviously pagan altar hidden in the woods in an extremely Catholic township.
We fell in love like heretical, queer Cory and Topanga, which felt miraculous in itself. She was the first person I had met who was also bisexual and polyamorous. (Sidenote: Even though I was raised as a strict monogamist, it NEVER felt natural. She also felt it was unnatural to limit oneself to a singular love.) She was the second person I came out to. We made plans to grow up and raise bunnies en masse. She was my little teapot, and I was her little curtain rod.
At the end of the day, it was other Christians who ensured that I left Christianity forever. The way her own family treated her shocked me and reviled me. She made the tragic mistake of being honest about who she was to her Catholic mother, and before I could say goodbye, she was three states away in a mental institution. Being apart was torture, and during the four-year period we were separated, we maintained occasional secret correspondence.
The idea that someone could do that to their child, do it out of love, was horrifying to me. It made me question what awful acts I had perpetrated “for Jesus” before leaving the church. I had always seen “our kind of Christian” as disparate from the sign-waving lunatics with frothing mouths on Bourbon St, but now I saw them as all members of the same cult.
Before I knew I was an abrosexual nonbinary person, I knew I was someone who questioned things, who scrutinized them. Hypocrisy on the scale of the Catholic/Christian religion could never bear the weight of that scrutiny. If the history of the organization wasn’t enough, the actions of the people in her family and our community would have been.
Now that’s not to say that modern witch practices/traditions are any better in terms of queer inclusion. Most of them emphasize heterosexuality and differentiate/delineate femaleness and maleness just as much if not more than Christianity, with the added kick of making them so diametrically opposed that one could be forgiven the assumption that the ONLY time they are capable of working together is when making life or magic. They also have become more capitalist in recent years, which in this writer’s opinion is the antithesis of spirituality.
The American and British varieties, in particular, are inherently colonialist and often profit off the emotional and physical labor of people of color. Today especially, with the advent of Witchtok, lots of young white people are taking bits and pieces of closed practices and trying to market rituals and practices that never belonged to them in the first place. Sage burning or smudging, dreamcatchers, spirit animal guides, vision quests, chakra work, and voodoo dolls, are well-known examples.
Modern white witches (talking about skin color now) have a duty to ensure their practices and even the actual tools they are using are ethically sourced and not appropriative. I think perhaps trans/genderqueer witches need to be especially careful because while most Western practices did not talk about or educate about nonbinary gender, there are plenty of Native and African Diaspora and non-American/British religions and cultures elevated what we would think of as trans people, at least before they were forcibly assimilated into the imperialist fold.
Reconciling my own inability to land on one or sometimes any gender took some time, and that journey was not without missteps. It wasn’t until college that I even had the words to articulate that I wasn’t a girl or a boy or a man or woman. I called myself two-spirit for a while until I realized it was appropriating indigenous American cultures. I also discarded notions of a “spirit animal” or “animal totem.” I felt disconnected until I rediscovered the words queer and genderqueer.
Again, I took a hard look at the religious/spiritual systems I was operating in, and like an artist working on a collage, trimmed what no longer fit and added what made me feel good while ensuring that I was staying in my lane. I still believe in things like the divine feminine and whatnot, but I don’t think that it cancels out the devine genderlessness or divine genderqueerness. I believe in nonbinary and genderqueer goddesses and gods after all, and have all along. Loki of Norse mythology is perhaps the most famous in America but by no means the only one.
After all, my beliefs and prescriptions are derived from nature, and one thing nature is NOT is binary. Nature and for that matter biology is so weird and varied and queer there truly is something for everyone. Take bees and hyenas, for example. (Those in the know, know). Seahorses, for instance, have the “males” get pregnant with babies. There are several species of bird that are primarily bisexual!
My quintessential belief boils down to the fact that I consider myself the most important being in my universe, and since I live here for the foreseeable future, I should actively work to make it better. I believe goddesses and gods to be amalgamations of natural forces and the spirits and beliefs of the peoples who conceived and worshipped them. Powerful to be sure, but not immortal and not omniscient. I don’t believe in omniscience. I believe in kindness and compassion but also that violence IS the answer to certain problems because that’s just the way nature operates most of the time if I’m being fully honest.
I was born and baptized as a Catholic boy, but I grew into a Pagan, witchy, queer woman. I also grew into an abrosexual nonbinary person. I also grew into an activist/ally, an artist, a friend, and a lover, coming from a hateful mean-spirited repressive rigid society that grows more hateful by the day. Obviously, my path was for me, and others have to discover their own joy and reverence, but I came from a place and time that specifically targeted me to feel small and wrong, an abomination before man and God, and now I revere myself above all.
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Pantheists are sometimes accused of being atheists in disguise. Are they? We cannot answer that question until we define "atheism." Is it literally a denial that there is anything divine or worthy of ultimate reverence? If that is what atheism is, then by definition pantheists are not atheists. Is it the denial of divinity beyond the sphere of human beings? If that is what atheism is, then once again pantheists are not atheists. Pantheism can be equated with atheism, of course, if atheism is defined as disbelief in the existence of a God who is a person. Most modern pantheists do not conceive the divinity as a person.
It could be a name, an acronym, or perhaps just a random assortment of letters with no intended significance. Without additional context, it is difficult to discern the intention behind this particular word. "Witch" is a captivating term that evokes a sense of mystery and magic. In folklore and mythology, witches are often associated with supernatural powers, spells, and potions. The word "witch" also carries a certain ambiguity, as it can be interpreted both positively and negatively in different cultural contexts. Lastly, we have "inflatable." This term typically refers to an object that is designed to be filled with air, such as a balloon or an inflatable pool toy. It suggests something fun, playful, and temporary. Inflatable objects are often associated with parties, celebrations, and enjoyment. When combining all these words together, we are left with an intriguing phrase that sparks curiosity and imagination. It is possible that "Hello jjtty witch inflatable" could be the title of a story, a product name, or even a phrase used in a coded message. Ultimately, the meaning and purpose behind this combination of words are left open to interpretation. It could be a creative experiment, a playful invention, or simply a collection of words without any particular significance. Regardless, it serves as a reminder of the endless possibilities language offers and the importance of interpretation in communication..
Reviews for "Hello jjtty Witch Inflatables: The Perfect Gift for Halloween Enthusiasts"
1. Sarah - 2/5 - I was really excited about getting the "Hello jjtty witch inflatable" for my Halloween decorations, but I was truly disappointed with the quality. The material was thin and flimsy, and it didn't hold up well in the wind. Within a couple of days, one of the witch's arms got detached, and there was no way to secure it back properly. The overall design was cute, but the poor construction ruined the experience for me.
2. Adam - 1/5 - I regret buying the "Hello jjtty witch inflatable" for Halloween. It was a complete waste of money. First of all, the colors of the inflatable in the product images were misleading. The actual product had dull and faded colors, which made it look cheap and unappealing. Secondly, the fan that kept it inflated was noisy and obnoxious, making it impossible to enjoy the decoration. Overall, I wouldn't recommend this inflatable to anyone looking for a spooky and well-made Halloween decoration.
3. Emily - 3/5 - While the "Hello jjtty witch inflatable" had a unique design that caught my attention, I wasn't completely satisfied with my purchase. The size of the inflatable was smaller than what I had expected, and it didn't make as much of an impact in my yard. Additionally, the material used was not as durable as I had anticipated, as it tore easily when exposed to slight pressure. Although the inflatable still served its purpose, I believe that the quality could have been improved for the price I paid.