Practically Magic

Belief

2012-01-27T15:23:00.002-05:00

"The teenage girl was visiting her grandfather; a revered orthodox rabbi and a leader of his community.
'I don't believe in God' she said, defiantly.
'That's alright, He believes in you' was the rabbi's response."
(I do not remember where I first read this, it may have been on the Aish website.)

“Most witches don’t believe in gods. They know that the gods exist, of course. They even deal with them occasionally. But they don’t believe in them. They know them too well. It would be like believing in the postman.”
― Terry Pratchett, Witches Abroad

Belief is a funny thing. Especially in American society, we appear to give it high value and want to see it in others, as if a persons ability to believe (and here, we are talking about belief in a Deity of some sort) is a function and proof of a higher morality. But belief is much like gnosis. You can have it, you can experience it, but there is no form of proof of such possession. Any outward behavior that might be taken as manifestation of belief can be faked, at least for a period of time.

And then there is the idea (belief?) that the Gods NEED our belief in them. Excuse me? Is it even possible that a more self-centered philosophy could be created? We may need to believe in order to propitiate a Deity properly, so that we might receive assistance, but that is far different from from the idea that an unbelieved in God dies, or no longer exists.

What do I believe in? Here is where I am tempted to quote the long passage in American Gods, by Neil Gaiman, where Sam Black Crow tells Shadow all that she is capable of believing in, but it is a long passage (and best heard read by Mr. Gaiman himself) and enumerates only what it is possible for her to believe in, not what she actually believes. So instead,

I believe I will go make myself a cup of tea.

January 18, 2012

2012-01-18T16:54:00.002-05:00

There was a death in the family last week. My Great-Aunt, my Grandmother's youngest sister. She had only recently received her diagnosis, with the expectation of her living for another 6 to 9 months. She wasn't willing to live with the lifestyle changes that would have allowed her that time, though. So, she waited for her children and her grandchildren to arrive, that she might see them once more. And then, She Just Stopped. No assistance, no additional painkillers. She refused food, but hadn't stopped eating long enough for that to be the cause of death. Just like her older sister, life was to be on her terms or not at all. Have I ever mentioned that I have some scary strong-willed women in my background?

("A" is for Ancestor)

A is for Anat and Altars that Alter Attitude

2012-01-09T17:52:00.001-05:00

I have several altars in my home. Some are permanent, such as my altar to my family and my beloved dead. They don't change all that often, when I dust and clean them, all the items pretty much always go back into the same exact places. Caring for them, sitting in front of them, and even just walking past them, these altars remind me of who I am, where I've come from, what grounds me and strengthens me for whatever else I do.

There are the long term, semi permanent altars, such as the one set up for Columbia, Goddess of Freedom and Matron of the capitol city of this nation. Hers is front and center in my living room, impossible to walk past without seeing, and perhaps thinking "now would be a good time to light some incense to her." She is not a "personal" goddess for me, but certainly through this political season I will propitiate her and implore her to look after her people and her nation. Her space is as spare and clear as the family altar is colorful and filled with "stuff."

I have my circle. Which is a holy place, but not permanently set up for any one specific ritual.

And then, there is the Anat tile. I posted this picture once before, and I will admit, I was completely surprised by the reaction to it. I think she is beautiful, not gruesome, as one commentor said. I am not a Canaanite reconstructionist, I do not worship Her, but She bears an important message to me, and when I need to be reminded of that message, the tile comes out and is set on my desk, where I cannot help but see Her.

(image and tile by the very talented Thalia Took )

The message? IT DOESN'T ALWAYS HAVE TO BE YOUR BLOOD.

As a wife and a mother, and a healer, this is a lesson I've had to learn over and over again. My personality inclines me to giving my "all" to those I love, to those I work to heal, to help. But, you can't give your "all" if you expect to have anything left. If you have ever taken a CPR certification class, or a Red Cross first aid class, you know that the first rule is protecting yourself; the most important person is the healer, not the injured. The rule is the same if you are talking emotional or spiritual or psychic support-if you damage yourself, how can you help anyone else? A hard lesson. One that I learned the hard way. And relearned again. And again.

The tile comes out far less often these days. Sometimes, all I need to do is think of it, and her. I am learning. And, when I need Her, She is there for me.

Poised for reset, in three, two, one...

2011-12-21T13:31:00.000-05:00

Chanukah is for family. Christmas is for my husband, DH. Yule is for friends and community. But the Solstice, that is for ME.

This year, all of the holidays/occasions seem to happen very closely upon one another, like the Fortuny pleats on a vintage gown. Two weeks ago, we attended a Jolfest/Blot/Wedding. Last weekend was my family Chanukah party/family reunion. This weekend will be Christmas. Each event requires planning, cleaning, cooking, gift collecting and wrapping (with the exception of the Jolfest/Blot/Wedding, which only required cooking and some planning). There is also the collecting of daughters from various cities and schools, and the accompanying readjustment to having more people in the house.

And then, tonight there is the Solstice. In inspiration, Solstice celebrations are close kin to the celebrations of the other holidays, but for me, the observation is very very different. Today, I will clean the fireplace hearth and lay the wood for a fire. At the base of the wood will be the chunk of charcoal saved from last Winters fire; after all, last years fire was successful in seeing us through to the return of the sun. I will also make sure that there is plentiful firewood on the porch to make it easier to keep the fire going all night. (This year, there is no snow on the ground, but things are awfully soggy.) At sunset, the fire will be lit. There will be a light dinner (already prepped!). DH will come home from work and have dinner. There will be Chanukah candles. And a quiet evening. And DH and daughter will go to bed.

I will stay up.

Solstice is the night that I tend the fire; I tend the hearth and the home and wait, in vigil for the return of the sun. It is a quiet night, just me and sometimes, the cat. I will read. I will meditate. I will scry in the fire and with my drop spindle. (I am not very good as spinning yarn, but I find it a remarkable aid to scrying.) I will, most likely, trance. I will eat and drink lightly, and in honor of those Deities Whom I honor. The night is long, and the house will get cold. Come dawn, I will go outside and raise a toast to the return of the light and the Spirits of this place. Then, I will come back inside, bank the fire, and get into bed, to get what sleep I can before the activities of the day begin.

In some Germanic traditions, the night of the Solstice is Mothers Night, sacred most specifically to Frigga. She, and her handmaidens will check each household to make sure that all household work for the year is finished, and to reward those industrious souls, and perhaps penalize those who have not finished. It is a very good thing that mothers are forgiving, because there is no way that I could ever be "finished," not when there are so many varied traditions to be honored. The Solstice is both my "pause" button and my "reset" button in a busy season, at the end of a cycle of time. The dark and the quiet and the fire feed me and my spirit, so that I can go back into the bright holiday observations with a lighter heart and without a sapping sense of martyrdom to the season. It allows me that time to contemplate the year that is ending, and the one about to begin.

*********************************************************************************

On a related note, Deb, over at Charmed, I'm Sure, is running a program on transforming oneself over this limnal season. I am not participating, but that has no reflection on what I see as a quality idea-I simply came upon it late, and I already had my own ideas/plans in the works. While it has already started, there is still time to join in. You can find the link here: New Year, New You

(I will admit to a bit of amusement at the title she chose. "New Year, New You" was the catchphrase that I used to market personal training programs every December/January, when I ran a gym. If there is "egregoric" strength to a phrase, this one should do well for it's participants.)

Awaiting the Reset Button

2011-12-20T16:20:00.004-05:00

I'm pretty sure that there is a new blog post percolating. In the meantime, you may find this new publication of interest:

Incantatio
An International Journal on
Charms, Charmers and Charming

Issue 1, 2011, can be read as a pdf file, found here:

http://www.folklore.ee/incantatio/01.html

and sometimes, it is my nature to complain.

2011-11-08T18:45:00.003-05:00

Today, I should have cleaned up the gardens to prep them for sleeping though the winter, but I didn't.

They've broken my heart these last two summers, and even though I know I will return to them and care for them, plant them and weed them, croon at them and hope over them; I'm just not ready yet. Two years ago, I found out that I was top listed in the salad bar section of the Zagats guide for deer and groundhogs. I think we salvaged a single tomato for the humans.

This year, I only had one garden to plant (the second one had been taken out of commission, the idea being that DH was going to dig it up, shore up the sides and put in better fence posts...) and I did figure out a way to discourage the critters who so abused my hospitality. So I laid the soaker hose, planted, weeded, and watered. June and July of this year were among the hottest I can remember. The gardens and I were very glad of the huge rain barrels that DH had built. During those months, I pretty much had a continuous drip of water going into the garden bed to keep the plants from drying up and dying in the heat.

It was an OK spring for the salad greens and peas. And the tomatoes did like the heat, especially since I kept the water flowing. And then we got to August, and it rained. I'm not sure what it was like in other parts of the country, but August 2011 was the rainiest single month in my county since written records were kept. September brought us a hurricane and more weeks of rain. (we have lived in this house since 1986, and this summer was the first time that we had ever gotten water in our basement.) If I had a stop motion camera, I'm sure I could have gotten some remarkable pictures of exploding tomatoes. Of course, the topper to all of this was our 16 inches of heavy snow right before Halloween that toppled our apple tree. So, currently I am somewhat broken in spirit regarding the gardens and the planting.

Perhaps coincidentally (or not) during the same time period, I have been trying to learn some material. I'd really like to be done with it, I feel stuck. Several times now, I think I've done it-I'm ready to present what I know and what I've done, so I could move along. But then something intervenes, and I don't. Sometimes, it's my doing, sometimes it is someone else, and sometimes, well, nature and seasons and events get in the way. And then, it feels as if I am starting all over again. Again.

I am always on guard and trying to make sure that I follow through on things, and do what I've told myself (and others) what I've said that I would do. Perhaps it is my flittery Gemini nature that I am on guard against. Maybe it's the responsible older sibling syndrome. I really don't know. But tonight, I will open up my notebooks and start quizzing myself. And tomorrow, weather permitting, maybe I will clean up the gardens.

Social Whirl

2011-11-06T15:56:00.004-05:00

Last night, DH and I attended the Witches Moonlight Masquerade Ball. This is an annual event organized by the Bergen Wiccan and Pagan Group, and others, and is a fundraiser for St. Jude Children's Hospital and Four Legs Good, an animal charity that focuses on feral and homeless animals. But, primarily it is just a fun evening.

DH and I are friends with some of the people responsible for this event, but mostly, we were meeting people for the first time (although there was one mutual moment of "what are you doing here?" with a Rennie musician/actor). As I met people, I was really surprised to be told "Oh, I've heard of you!" Really? I admit, it surprised me. I also admit, I have an ego, and it was massaged very nicely.

Even though we are not members of any of the organizing or sponsoring groups, DH and I were asked to take roles in the Samhain ritual that preceded the dinner and dancing. DH was Door Warden, believe me, he can look very intimidating when he wants to, especially with sword in hand!

I was asked to call and hold the West Quarter, a spot where I am happy to be. We weren't able to attend the run-through of the ritual that had been held earlier, and since I am not Wiccan, I was a little concerned about the lack of "stage directions." The HPS reassured me that I should do what was right to me in that Quarter (as long as I stuck to the spoken part of the script, of course), and so I did. That meant that West was done a bit differently from the other directions, but no one and nothing seemed to be bothered by it. I was given a message by one of the Oracles, which, in the way of such things, could be understood in more than one way, depending on whether one of the words was used as a verb or an adjective.

After the Ritual, we partied. There was food and wine and beer at the tables, and a cash bar not too far away. We had an excellent DJ and a large dance floor. For the most part, we were in costume, and there were even some masks at the masquerade. (I wore one last year, but found that it got in the way of the dancing, eating, drinking, schmoozing...) I even came in second in the costume contest, wearing one of my younger daughters kimono.

Many, many baskets had been donated for the Tricky Tray portion of the evening fundraising, and two paintings had been donated for a Silent Auction, including one by Devyn Barat that I really wouldn't have minded taking home with me, except even the minimum first bid was a bit rich for me. I was glad to see that others weren't so constrained.

All in all, it was a good time for a good pair of causes. I am already looking forward to next year's event.

Mid October catch up

2011-10-11T16:01:00.003-04:00

Today marks a full week without rain. This hasn't happened since sometime in July. Tonight should be a night of dancing under the Full Moon, but the center of the circle is a mud pit, and footing is hazardous in daylight, without a shift in reality. I hope the Devas (or Wights, or Spiritus Loci, they do seem amused by my attempts to give name and classification to them), will accept a more snake-like movement, with my feet planted, and allow the circle to whirl about me.

I've been waking to the sound of crows. Well, alright, I've been waking to the sound of the alarm clock, but I quickly become aware of the sound of crows. Mid day, and afternoon, they are gone and their sound is replaced by the calls of hawks. All though, I hear the chirping of chipmunks, they are chattier than all the birds put together, not even silencing in the presence of the hawks. And then, come dusk, the crows return.

Weeding the lavender, one is rewarded for patience and slow care. Weeding the roses, one is punished for impatience and lack of total attention. There is a parable and a lesson, here. And I will finish figuring it out, once I finish removing the thorns from my hands and arms and staunch the blood...

Columbia

2011-10-05T18:26:00.002-04:00

Columbia, Matron of our Nations Capitol, and by extension, of our Nation. Goddess of Freedom.

Lady, do Thou look after Thy people, so that we may all worship (or not) as we see fit!

(and I am infinitely pleased that her altar is atop a book case.)

Crucible

2011-10-03T13:35:00.005-04:00

DH and I finally were able to attend Crucible this year. (Crucible is a convention, for lack of another term, put together by Arthur Moyer and the Omnimancers) We enjoyed ourselves and I was able to take away some useful, if sometimes unintended by the presenters, knowledge.

1. Damn, you people really expect me to keep up with my blogging!

2. DH and I really are older, and more societally established than many (most?) people who attend such events.

3. I finally got to meet some people "in real life" that I have been corresponding with for a while, in some case, years. So pleased to finally sit down with Sara, Jason F., Jeff Mach Kenaz Filan and his wife Kathy, and R.O. And, of course, meeting new people is lovely.

4. I am really sorry that I missed meeting Jow and Deb. We were confused as to whether there was a gathering/party after the last session Saturday night, just as we were about the "closing brunch" at the hotel. And being that we didn't attend the sex magic panel discussion, and there is something about staying overnight in a decent hotel...but I am still sorry that we missed you guys.

5. I learned (or relearned), that while I don't know more than I thought I knew, my body of knowledge is larger, compared to others, than I realized. Not that I necessarily know or have experienced more than everyone, or anyone else on any of the given subjects, but until convinced otherwise, my assumption is that everyone knows more about everything than I do. Lovely to find out that it isn't always true.

6. Jason Miller could probably give a presentation that consisted solely of reading a phone book and make it interesting and entertaining. So when his subject matter is interesting, as his lecture on Malefica was, well, I am just sorry for those of you who missed it. But, FYI, Jason, some of us wear all black because it makes the silver in our hair look better. (feel free to insert smiley face.)

7. It was during the Malefica talk that I gained the most useful insight of the day. Some of you have complained that I rarely explain how I do magic, sticking only to the broadest outlines and the arts and crafts explanations. I've never felt comfortable going into detail on the blog, now I know exactly why I don't.

8. I did feel for R.O. during his talk on “Applied Hermetics: Conjuring a Better Tomorrow." So many of us were with him and watched him work his way through this project over the last few years, that his comment of it feeling like he was presenting to his aunts and uncles made perfect sense to me. He needs a new audience so he can shine properly. It will be well worth your time.

9. The fact that I admit publicly that I am a food snob will surprise people. Given the opportunity, I am also a wine snob, although that did not come up this past weekend. True, the way I phrased it in Jason's hearing sounded horrendous but I can admit, it comes from privilege. Too few calories are NOT a problem in my life (see note #2), so why should I eat anything that is less than excellent? I'd rather not eat food I don't enjoy, just because it is served to me unasked for. Really, starving children anywhere are not better off for my cleaning my plate.

Context, Context

2011-09-20T14:32:00.003-04:00

Teach to the test. Memorize, memorize, memorize your dates, lists and correspondences. Diagram your grammar and cosmologies. Are we talking high school or magic?

Here is a question: 2+2=4

True, or false?

The answer? It depends.

Take the question out of the realm of the purely arithmetical and see what happens.

2 (cats) + 2 (pieces of fish) = 2 (cats). Or maybe even 1 (cat), if one is bigger and faster than the other. * In that context, 2+2= 2 and/or 1

Another question: 10-1=???

Give the question some context.

10 (mice) - 1(mouse, because it was eaten by a cat**) = 0 (mice-the others will run away when the first one is caught by the cat.)

There is a very large difference between education and training and our society has largely lost sight of the difference. Both are important, but which one is more important is dependent on what you intend to be. Keep your lists and charts handy, but remember that they are representative of something, and it is your job to figure out what that is. Sometimes, you might even find that you will then need to rearrange your chart or list. That doesn't mean that you are wrong. It does mean that you are looking at that chart or list from a different context from the one who handed it to you. (We do not live in a world of archetypes)

Don't solely take the word of experts.

Do your own work.

Have fun.

*Thank you to the Sunday New York Times for this example

**The educator quoted by the NY Times had a thing for examples with cats involved.

So...

2011-08-05T18:21:00.003-04:00

Do the problems with buying and building bookcases come under the heading of Mercury retrograde, or just Saturn in general?

Midsummer, Lammas, First Harvest...

2011-08-02T13:23:00.001-04:00

The Importance of Proper Titles

2011-07-21T17:11:00.004-04:00

It seems to me that much of the advice given until the heading of "Life Hacking" was formerly available to readers of Redbook, or Woman's Day, or to the students of home economics classes, back in the days of strict gender separation. It may be that much of the remaining information was available in men's magazines of the 1940's and 1950's, or shop class. I don't really know. But here is a little "life hack" or household helpful hint, now available to all generations and genders.

One of the lovely things about summer is the easy availability of local, in season fruit. One of the less lovely results is that often, the fruit attracts fruit flies into your kitchen. Rather than buying traps that will need replacing, here is an easy (and nice smelling) fruit fly trap.

1 small shallow bowl
a small amount of a fruit based vinegar. (cider vinegar works well, I use raspberry vinegar)
a drop of dishwashing liquid to break the surface tension of the
vinegar.

Pour the vinegar into the bowl, you don't need very
much. Add the drop of dishwashing liquid. Leave near the fresh
fruit, or where you are finding the fruit flies.

*I'll bet with this blogpost title, you thought I was going to be writing about covens or magical orders or such. The point was that something titled "life hack" was far more likely to be read by an audience of the male gender than something titled "household helpful hints." And much more likely to be publicly crowed over as something new and remarkable.

Proof positive

2011-07-14T21:58:00.006-04:00

So, how often have you done a spell or a working or a ritual and wondered if it had done anything more that make you feel really cool? Concrete (as it were) proof in the real world, that's what you want, right?

Some years ago, there were some problems with a person we had come across on yahoo discussion board. Coincidentally (or not) around that time we had a few problems in and around our home and family life. While DH's response was targeted and outward, mine was protective. I placed wards and walls, warnings and alarms around our property. All has been quiet since.

I keep up with the protections. I propitiate the local spirits. It is basic maintenance, and I've hoped that it has been effective. Last night, I got confirmation that it is.

We have a public path that runs along one edge of our property. It is very close to our neighbors house, but they have no windows on that side of the house. Directly across the street from the end of the path is a wooded lot. Our side of the path is edged with hedges and trees. The path appears to be a completely secluded place, especially at night.

For several nights, I've had nagging sensations and dreams to check on the perimeter protections. Each time I did, they seemed fine, but I would add a little oomph, just because. And then, I would wonder if it was doing any good-otherwise, why would I be concerned? I mentioned none of this to DH, it's my part of the housekeeping. Last night, when DH came home from work (he does not work a 9-5 job, so it was very dark when he got home) he parked his car, but rather than come in the house, something told him to take a walk around the yard.

Right away. In the dark, with no flashlight.

He heard footsteps on the path, but no one came out onto the street, so he went to investigate (we actually own the land the path is on, but it is a community right of way). Just as he came upon 2 teenaged boys, they, completely intent on what they were doing, lit some of the bracken on the ground on fire with a lighter. At the very moment the bracken and pine needles lit up, DH roared "What the fuck are you doing???" And those two boys, who had no idea he had come up behind them, levitated. And with great energy and inarticulateness started stamping out the surprisingly robust flames. As was described to me, it was far larger than should be explained by a lighter touching the bracken (it has drizzled earlier in the day). With the flames stamped out, the boys took off, and DH came in the house. We called the police, to give them a heads up. Then, with flashlight and a large bucket of water, DH and I went out to make sure that the fire really was completely out.

It was. The burn line followed the property line, exactly outside the borders I set for the protections. We used the light to make sure that no fires had been started anywhere else on the path. No other fires. But, in their haste to run from DH (who, admittedly can be scary sometimes), they left behind a large bottle lighter fluid. No wonder the bracken lit so well. And we wonder, what else and how much else would have been doused in lighter fluid if something hadn't told DH to take that walk without so much as stowing his work bag?

So. It all works. We are glad. But, as the policeman who came to take a look said, "Summer and teenagers, gotta love it."

I Am One

2011-07-09T20:48:00.005-04:00

The ancient Hebrews had a seven day week, with the seventh day, as the day of rest, the Shabbat; just as the modern, current calendar is formatted. (although, if we are lucky, we may get two days of rest.) Less well known was the cycle of seven years, with the seventh year the "Shabbat" year. And, after seven of those cycles (49 years) came the Jubilee Year, essentially a cosmic "reset" button. Then, everything was to start all over again, fresh.

I have reached my 50th birthday. I have gone through those 7 cycles of 7 years. I have gone through the "reset" year. I get to start over, fresh, now. Except, of course, that I have maintained my memory of experiences of the previous years. (well, mostly. There are a few years toward the end of the 1970's that are a bit hazy, and 1961 and 1962 are a bit hard to retrieve...)

If you go into an party supply store in this county and look for party ephemera for a 50th birthday, you will see that they feature tombstones or sayings such as "Over the hill." I am going to stick with "Happy Birthday, Baby."

It would all be a very neat package if I were starting a new career, or my children were suddenly completely out of the house, independent and successful and that BIG CHANGES were happening. But that isn't how we grow up. Not the first time, not the second time. Sometimes there are growth spurts, with lots of stuff visibly happening (and the occasional growing pain) and sometimes the growing isn't noticeable.

So, I am One. Happy Birth Day, me.

(and this time, I intend to enjoy my terrible twos and a non-angsty adolescence.)

Coincidence?

2011-06-22T23:35:00.002-04:00

This week, I started rereading "Elements of Ritual" by Deborah Lipp. I first read it when the book was originally published, took from it what was useful to me at the time and hadn't looked at it since. I thought it was time for me to review the information, after all, if I have nothing to say publicly, I might as well read about the "hows and whys" of public ritual-it might spark an idea or two.

Today, I was asked to write and lead a public ritual.

Funny how things happen.

I Seem to Have Lost My Voice

2011-06-16T10:34:00.005-04:00

and I don't like it.

This is bothering me on several levels.

1.What if I have simply run out of things to say? Having just had
that 1/2 century birthday, this is not a minor concern.

2. Except in rare circumstances, middle-aged and elderly women tend to be ignored-regardless of the reason for my silence, I hate playing into the stereotype.

3. I hate the very idea of even the possibility of being
ignored.

4. I've always taken pleasure and pride in having readers of this
blog-and of the relationships developed from it. But without anything to say, what is the point of the blog?

I've no idea whether this is a spiritual phase, a psychological phase, a magical one, or "merely" age. But it is bothering the crap out of me.

Full Moon Note: If you sit quietly in the dark and really listen, you can hear the fireflies opening and shutting their wings as they light, and fly. It is nearly possible to hear the patterns of light.

Unintentional Experiment

2011-05-31T23:20:00.003-04:00

4 weeks without writing a blog post = no loss in readership.

6 weeks without a new blog post = loss of subscribers.

Ah, well, things have been percolating (a deliberate choice of a word), and there will be updates. In the meantime, here is a picture of the circle, taken by DH during the holiday weekend. He had to stand on a ladder at roof height to get the correct vantage point. And the trees aren't even 5 years in the ground! (DH would also like me to point out that those hammock stands are way longer than a human body; that having them in the photograph is a bit misleading.)

Spring

2011-04-21T20:41:00.008-04:00

Time is a funny thing; it isn't at all consistent. As I get older (and reading Gordon sometimes makes me feel very old), it seems to run both faster and slower, the way it does when you are running a high fever. Winters are getting longer, even as the entire year passes far more quickly. There is a logical explanation. With every year lived added to my lifespan thus far, each individual year becomes a smaller and smaller proportion of the whole. As for the added length of winter, the physical discomfort of the season has become more pronounced on my body. I get cold far more easily than I once did, and it takes longer (and more effort) to get warm again. I ache more easily. I yearn physically for spring and sun and warmth.

This, I suspect, is where the seasonal holidays got their start. Not from the agricultural year; the time grid of farming was a more modern reason for what humans were already doing. Just as the holidays of many current religions happen to coincide with the days when humans were already celebrating or observing.

I love my gardens. I nurture them, and they nurture me (although sometimes the deer and the groundhogs end up with far more of the actual nutrition then I do.) I celebrate the coming of Spring and the return of warmth, not because I can't wait to break my back grubbing weeds (I HATE the feel of dirt under my fingernails, and let us not talk about what the work can do to a manicure), but because it is the return of life and fresh growth, green, and warmth.

Two Quotes

2011-03-25T17:58:00.002-04:00

With the political and economic (oh hell, let's just call it what it is, shall we?) war between the classes, AND the more natural disasters in Japan and elsewhere, two quotes have been playing tag in my head.

Pray for the dead, and fight like hell for the living.
--"Mother" Mary Jones

If I can't dance, I don't want to be part of your revolution.
--Emma Goldman

Do something. Do it here and now and visible to the world. Do it also, and as well, in the magical and spiritual. And don't forget to add joy.

(Twice now, I've composed grand, and somewhat pretentious, all encompassing and advice laden endings for this post. And twice, those endings have vanished. I can take a hint.)

Incense, part 2

2011-03-10T17:04:00.005-05:00

The incense "dough" is made of a mixture of makko powder, which gives the incense it's bulk and base, and water, in one to one proportions. In the case of saffron incense, the makko and water are measured in teaspoons, while the incense is measured by the 1/8 teaspoon. (saffron is very fragrant.)

Makko powder has no scent of it's own (although there is always a burning odor) and as it is essentially a powdered wood, burns very easily. When the dough is formed into sticks and is thoroughly dry, the sticks are very fragile, and shatter easily. The addition of a very small amount of guar gum does several things. It adds enough flexibility to the incense sticks that they don't shatter as you try to place them in holders for burning. It slows the burning enough that the incense smolders and releases scent, rather than burning and giving off the smell of burning wood. And finally, the scent of the guar gum lets you know when the incense sticks are dry enough for use. When the sticks no longer smell like the sticky flap on a mailing envelope, you know they are dry! I use 3/4 teaspoon of guar gum for every 12 teaspoons of makko powder. (Now you know why a calculator was included in the tools for the project.)

When the dough is mixed, and then kneaded to make sure that everything is completely blended, I break off a piece, roll it into the size and shape to fit into the dough gun, and squeeze out lines of incense just slightly longer than the intended, finished size. I have no idea what the actual purpose of this dough gun is. I found it in a craft shop. There are few pictures of this part of the project as I did not want to pick up my camera when my hands were sticky and covered in dough.

As you can see from the picture above, the sticks look more like strings. Once you have used up the dough, you can straighten the sticks. This is best done by rolling them back and forth with open palms. In fact, over the next few days, as they dry, this should be done several times. One of the issues of this project is that they will dry unevenly-the edges will dry before the centers, causing the sticks to bend. Rolling them counteracts this. Letting them dry while tightly lined up, and moving the "outside" sticks to the middle (and vice versa) will also help balance out the moisture content and slow the drying time, so as to help keep them straight. You do not want them to dry too quickly, since that will encourage bending. On the other hand, you don't want them to dry too slowly because they will get moldy that way.

I use a marble board for this part of the project, similar to a pastry board. Here you can see the sticks drying. And the incense cone that I made with the small amount of dough that was left over and not enough to refill the dough gun.

Sourcing: I highly recommend RoseMountain Herbs for the makko powder. The best place I've found for the very small amount of guar gum that I use is scentsoftheearth.com. The saffron, and the lavender (which will be my next project) come from my garden.

Incense project, part one

2011-03-03T18:03:00.005-05:00

Tools, and some of the ingredients.
Makko powder and guar gum.
The red powder is saffron.
And, water, to make dough.
"raw" incense, ready for forming.

Still Liminal After All These Years.

2011-02-22T23:56:00.002-05:00

This was/is to be the year that I stepped through the threshold, going from one state of being to the next. My baby went off to college nearly 5 hours from home, and the older daughter, having started work on her Ph.D. has set up household a mere 2 hours away. A major piece of magical work, a work of nearly 6 years duration, is successully and well finished. And, in a matter of months, I will have my 50th birthday.

I have great plans for this year, and the years to come, and I've been more than ready to get started on them. At the beginning of the year I set my first goal; to attend Sacred Spaces, in Maryland. I've wanted to attend for several years now, but being mother to a resident child (especially a child who, despite being a native New Jersian, does not drive), and the expenses of having that teenager home, kept me from attending.

In one form or another, I "know" most of the presenters at Sacred Spaces 2011 (that's one of the advantages of being around for a while), and what a group to hang out with! Judika Illes, Jason Miller, Diana Paxson, Ketzirah Carly, just to list the people that I know, or I've chattted with. I investigated hotel costs and transportation and started putting the funds aside. I started thinking about how I was going to break the news to DH, that I was going off to have fun without him.

And then...the supply list arrived for a film photography class that my younger daughter is taking. A list of items that are not available at the school bookstore where she has a generous scholarship. A list of items, that, when purchased, swallowed up the hotel and train funds.

So. Still Mommy, first. I will get to Sacred Spaces (and similar events) in the future. This week, I will stay home.

Still Liminal.

Myth

2011-02-15T14:36:00.005-05:00

Long afterward, Oedipus, old and blinded, walked the roads.
He smelled a familiar smell. It was the Sphinx.
Oedipus said, "I want to ask one question. Why
didn't I recognize my mother?"
"You gave the wrong answer" said the Sphinx.
"But that was what made everything possible" said Oedipus.
"No" she said. "When I asked, What walks on four legs in
the morning, two at noon, and three, in the evening, you answered, Man.
You didn't say anything about Woman."
"When you say Man," said Oedipus, "You include women, too.
Everyone knows that."
She said, "That's what you think."

(A portion of "Myth" by Muriel Rukeyser)

Assuming that one's own cultural biases are universal is dangerous. That holds for whether you are dealing with humans, systems created by humans, or non-human entities. And just because something has become enshrined in teachings and literature, does not make that something so.

For the past several years, I posted a poem on this blog for Valentines Day (usually John Donne). This year, I did not, although the reason had to do with my being between desktop computer systems. (Nettie the netbook is great for reading email or facebook, but for writing, research or juggling several open windows, I really prefer a full sized system.)
So, instead, a post-Valentines day, and Happy Birthday to Susan B. Anthony, poetry post.

What He Said!

2011-01-27T23:28:00.002-05:00

I don't usually post links to other blogs, but Philip Pullman is worth reading. His point is that the worth of public libraries cannot be measured by the "free" market system. And he says it far better than this daughter of a librarian could.

Besides, who else would be able to mention both "Finn Family Moomin Troll" and "Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition" in the same blog post?

Go here:
http://falseeconomy.org.uk/blog/save-oxfordshire-libraries-speech-philip-pullman#

This made me laugh

2011-01-21T18:02:00.003-05:00

I have never been a high maintenance woman, no matter how hard I've tried (and I've tried!). Since I live in the world of suburban malls and chain stores, I hate to shop, preferring to do as much purchasing as I need to online. As a result, I get a huge amount of commercial/retail email. Rarely are these emails a source of amusement. But, today, I got one that read:

LASER-FREE METAMORPHOSIS

Repair damaged skin with DRAGON'S BLOOD

complex, a patented extract taken from Amazonian trees.

And, in case you were wondering, that is the font size and set-up of the email.

Now I am off to check out my pantry and supply shelves to see what other cutting edge beauty treatments might be lurking about.

No back button, no Tardis

2011-01-10T18:54:00.004-05:00

Not long after 9/11, the New Yorker magazine had a cartoon; a couple sat in a travel agents office and when asked where they wanted to go, answered, "September 10th." I had a similar reaction on Saturday, when I heard of the shooting of Congresswoman Giffords, Judge John Roll and 12 others (6 fatally) at a Safeway Supermarket, where the Congresswoman was holding a public meeting. Couldn't we start the day over again? But, of course, we couldn't. Just as we can't go back to September 10th and redo our airport security for that week. Just as I would have liked to go back to the day before the Oklahoma City Federal Building bombing and redo those events.

There is no way of redoing events. No going back and erasing and "improving" history. And, I am afraid, no Golden Age, no Garden of Eden, when and where life was wonderful for everyone. Never happened.

Pick an era and there were winners and losers, the big difference being that, in the United States, the pool of "winners" as a percentage of the population, had been growing since the middle of the 20th century. The growth was not easy, nor was admittance to the "winning" side given, nor guaranteed to anyone. But the promise of full acceptance into society was not limited to Horatio Alger myth, nor legacy. You did not have to be of the right color, or the correct last name or bank account. Right now, that pool of possible winners is shrinking. People are angry and scared, and because a few years ago everything seemed brighter than today, there is a much angry talk (and looking for blame), about bringing back "the good old days."

You can't. I can't. Even if we could agree on when those days were.

There is no back button, no time machine, no Tardis, we can only go forwards.

Where are we going?

And, an actual New Years resolution

2011-01-05T20:03:00.002-05:00

I am giving up using Google Reader. It has allowed me to become rather promiscuous in subscribing to blogs. I find that when I read from the Reader page, I go from new blog post to new blog post, without ever visiting the actual blog sites. It has become the only way to keep up with all the places that I had become subscribed to. As a result, I was reading quickly to get to the next blog and I wasn't leaving comments, even at places where I had something to say. Since it is community and human relationships that are important to me, and Reader was getting in the way of my participating in conversations and community, Reader has to go. And so, it has.

Bright and Shiny

2011-01-05T14:21:00.002-05:00

It's the new year, and just past the eclipses. Did you make your serious, life changing new years resolutions? No? Good for you! After all, why start your new year by setting yourself up for failure?

I am a personal (fitness) trainer. I spent years working in, and then running a gym. Every year, we would get floods of new members in January. You always knew who would stick it out, and it was never the person who would say with a sigh, or a rueful smile that "this year, really! this year I am going to get into shape!" By Valentines Day, they would be gone and life would get back to normal for the people who wanted to work out. That is the difference. The people who stuck it out were the ones who wanted to be there. Whether it was because they found the actual workouts pleasurable, or whether they had specific, reachable goals or a death threat*, those who found the specifics of working out useful, hung around.

Many of the bloggers that I read have made resolutions/vows/promises to blog more often, and post regularly, on a specified day. To them, I say "good luck!" But as for me, been there, done that, and I don't like setting myself up for failure.

The best resolutions are the ones that you can keep, and that resonate in your life. Gordon has a post here: http://runesoup.com/2011/01/8-happiness-hacks-to-get-you-through-january/
on well, happiness. And finding the small sustainable ways to happiness are your best bets for those resolutions that resonate. From small acorns mighty oaks grow, people! Or the single grain of sand starts the landslide, or...fill in your own aphorism.

As an example, some years ago, overwhelmed by the needs of motherhood, and working and filling what I saw as the requirements of being a good spouse, much of my life was that of utility, necessity, corner-cutting, and a lack of "ease." Frankly, I wanted a life with grace. My resolution that year? From that point on, I would use only slices of actual, real lemon in my tea, rather than bottled lemon juice. It was where I drew the line on short cuts and "good enough" in my life. And, you know what? Since that time, I have never gone without lemon for my tea. A single point of grace, and the constant confirmation that 1. I can keep a resolution and 2. small happiness's every day brighten my life far better than the rare big deals. (DH, if you are reading this, it does NOT mean that my upcoming significant birthday shouldn't be treated as a rare big deal!) Another year, I gave up cheap ball point pens. I only write with fountain pens or with a specific brand of gel pen. Why? Because the smooth flow of ink gives me pleasure. And, yes, every time I write something, I am aware of it. This year? I am going back to doing the New York Times crossword puzzles. I am not putting any conditions of success in finishing the (especially the end of week) puzzles, although I wouldn't mind getting the Monday puzzles done in under an hour...

Here's the deal. These little joys do not really cost anything except a little bit of thought right at the beginning. But they become self perpetuating very quickly because they cost so little in terms of time or money. I become a happier person. All other things being equal, a happier person has a far better life than a less happy person. Isn't there something that will do this for you?

*Death threat-usually surviving a heart attack or stroke, merely being threatened with either is insufficient.

A Christmas Story

2010-12-24T16:40:00.002-05:00

I'm taking a break from the absurd amount of cooking that I do for a holiday that I enjoy through the eyes of my beloved to post a link to a free story. For those of you who have read Don Kilcoyn's first book "The Law is My Shepherd," this story takes place sometime before those events (although they do not involve the same people). For those of you who haven't purchased Don's book, here is a chance to download and read (for free!), or read online one of his stories.

http://donkilcoyne.com/Don/Secret_Files.html

The Wide Men: A Christmas Story

Yes, it is a Christmas Story.

Disagreement?

2010-12-21T17:03:00.003-05:00

Among Pagans, Heathens and Magicians? Really?

It seems that there has been some debate as to the date of the Solstice and as to whether it happened concurrently with the Full Moon/Eclipse. The Full Moon and eclipse were easy (if the sky was clear), all you had to do was look up. It is the timing of the Solstice that is in disagreement. The actual time that the Sun moves into Capricorn is 6:38pm on the night of December 21st. That is the moment of the Solstice. So there was a full day of daylight between the time of the Full Moon and the time of the Solstice. But what of the celebration, or vigil, or watch, or ritual or...? That is usually during the "longest night" as we await the return of the Sun. Rather than simply saying "well they both happened on December 21" which is how is has been reported in the popular press, how many have checked the daylight and dark hours? I did. Pallas Renatus did. Guess what? We ended up with different answers. Go figure. (and the last time I checked, the Naval site was down, maybe it crashed due to so many checking the timing?) PR did his "longest night" work last night. I shall observe it tonight.

Last night was Full Moon and eclipse work. While I very much liked the direction and suggestion that Patrick Dunn had for Full Moon/Eclipse magic, I approached it from a different angle. Rather than working FOR freedom and economic increase for our society, I worked to limit and then reverse the movements and tides that are limiting those freedoms and the economics of our nation and society. It just seemed a more appropriate method for the already full, but shrouded Moon.

Tonight will be Vigil and Return of the Sun. The hearth has been cleaned and a new fire laid. The candles are ready to be lit. Yummy "sun" foods have been prepared (although tomorrows breakfast bread is still rising). The offerings are ready. And, although it is completely non-traditional anywhere, I will be drinking peach schnapps. Nothing says to me "warmth and sun and summer will return" more than that. And, at the moment of sunrise, I will toast the Sun with my Sun tincture.

Odd Enough To Be Worthy Of Mentioning.

2010-12-14T17:26:00.003-05:00

I am not a monotheist; I know (note: not believe, know) multitudes, of Deities, Devas, Wights and Kami. Overwhelmingly, to the point of exclusively, those that I know are Female. (another note: to those who have argued with me in the past over the gender of deity-the use of language influences reality as much as the other way around, but don't argue with me about it, find an expert in linguistics to discuss it with you.) When I first dedicated the circle, while it was dedicated to the Goddesses whom had made themselves known to me, I did acknowledge the Gods. I just didn't invite Them in. It didn't, and doesn't seem to be a problem, my psychic, spiritual and magical worlds are mostly female.

Every year, between the Cross-Quarters commonly known as Samhain and Imbolc (what can I say? I'm not Celtic, and I don't celebrate them as Samhain and Imbolc.) I do a lot of deep trance work. I get confirmation on how well (or not) I've done my work and my projects in the previous year. I get hints or assignments or messages regarding the coming year. I meet and interact with Others, Elsewhere. This year, there has been a boy, or maybe a Boy, I don't know yet. Night by night, he is growing up and growing older, and yet I know him to be the same "person." I've met him in different surroundings, from inner-city urban to a rather swanky country estate, as well as some places not easily described. In November, he was a street kid, trickster-ish and while not malevolent, definitely possessing an edge. I don't come across him every night, but each time I do, he is a little older and a bit more polished. Tonight, a week before the Solstice, he was named heir to the king. It will be most interesting to see who he is the night after the Solstice, and what he will want of me. (As of yet, nothing.)

I am fully aware that these are archetypes that I am dealing with, not yet Individuals. But I am finding it fascinating, that after all this time, the male gendered portion of the Otherworlds is making itself known to me.

2010-12-03T18:25:00.003-05:00

Yesterday, after a business meeting, I was called "machiavellian" in my behavior. Since I had been acting in good faith, at first my feelings were hurt.

And then I started thinking:

This guy has given me a big clue to his thought processes. I could use this.

The Final Planetary Tincture

2010-12-02T18:12:00.007-05:00

I really did finish this project!

This funny looking thing is a picture of the salts from my sun tincture. I'm afraid I didn't do the best job photographing the plate-there is a deep green tablecloth under the clear plate and salts. But just imagine...

My notes read: regularly shaped crystals, oval to rectangle, spread evenly over the entire surface of the plate. The color is nearly clear, with the faintest orange tinge. The "during the process" notes state that I dissolved and reformed the crystals three times. Each time I added the distilled water, the resultant liquid turned nearly black. I would then wash the plate in yet more distilled water, filter the menstruum and pour it back into the plate for the crystals to form. Each time, the crystals would be nearly clear. Why did I then re-dissolve them? I don't really know, other than I felt that I ought to. And then finally, I didn't feel that need.

The tincture, in a glass of water is red/orange/gold, with a scent that is (so says my notes) Awakening! Refreshing! But the effect of drinking it was like drinking the rising winter sun. I didn't notice much of anything when taking the tincture earlier in the Fall. But now that it is cold and dark and winter approaches? There is a definite sense of slowly increasing warmth and brightness after I've taken it. It will be most interesting to see if this continues into the Spring.

In terms of both effect, and taste, this is my second favorite of the planetary tinctures; my favorite is still Mars/Tuesday/Ginger. Despite my exclamation points, the Sun tincture is far less aggressive and "in your face" than the Mars. I want it, and enjoy it, but do not get the same sense of "I need this" that I get when taking the Mars tincture. Which brings up another interesting point, in terms of elemental attributes, they are both fire. While this series was planned as a planetary one and the ingredients were chosen by their planetary attributes, it appears that the effects on me are elemental. Which, in a way, does make a great deal of sense, as it is through the elements that we experience those things outside of ourselves. Which would also explain why these two tinctures appeal to me so much more than the ones relating to the other elements, I've felt for some time that I could use just a bit more elemental fire in my personal mix. These tinctures could be my favorites simply because I need what they contain more than I need what is contained in the others.

This project took me far longer than I thought it would (especially the write-ups. Mea Culpa). I've learned quite abit about myself, listening to, and paying attention to the personalities involved in my projects, and the grains of salt I must add to some of my learning experiences with humans. I will probably do something similar in the future. Just not right away.

To recap, these are the tinctures:

Sun-Orange

Moon-Camphor

Mars-Ginger

Mercury-Oregano

Jupiter-Lemon Balm

Venus-Rose

Saturn-Comfrey

(for whatever reason, Google spell check doesn't like "comfrey," it would prefer "comfier?")

Metaphor, simile and all that crap

2010-11-21T14:18:00.003-05:00

Thank you, to whomever read the previous blog post and didn't sputter at my statement that I didn't have as much time to write, now that my children are out of the house. Because, of course, it is always a question of how one chooses to spend time, and clearly, with more time at my disposal, I am choosing to not write. Well, duh. Even as I was typing the last post, I was aware of that. So, thank you for not publicly getting on my ass about that.

I've spent the last few months analyzing and closing out the books, if you will, of a large and significant portion of my life-that of "hands on" parenting. I'm not sorry that it is over, although I will admit to missing my daughters company, they are just good people to spend time with, but I am ready (oh more than ready!) to relinquish the 24/7 practical, manual stuff. (The emotional, psychic stuff? Not that long ago, I asked my father when the tiny, back of the mind, always present thought of ones children goes away. He said that he would let me know when it happens.)

Around the time that we were doing the final packing for the younger one to move off to college, we noticed a damp spot in the street, right at the edge of our wall. By the time the older one moved to her apartment and started graduate school, the damp spot had become a small, bubbling puddle. And by the end of September, the puddle became a source of a small stream, that ran down the street in front of our house.

Calling the water company wasn't reassuring. First, I was told that "it wasn't an emergency." Then, I was told (more than once), that it was quite likely that the leak was from one of the pipes belonging to me, not the water company, in which case, any repairs would have to be done, and paid for, by us. As you can see in the second picture, the leak wasn't in the driveway, any repair on "our side" would require us to take down a stone wall and remove quite a bit of earth (and gardens!) from the front of our house for even an exploratory dig.

At the beginning of November, the water company finally sent someone to look into the leak, one man with a shovel, and one man with a cell phone. Then, power tools, and finally, the backhoe appeared. The more they dug, the more, and faster the water welled up. But, the leak was on "their" side, not ours.

Besides intact pipe to contain and safely direct our water, what was on "our side?" Huge rocks and cement block, extending well below the frost line, across the front of, and supporting the house and property.

Whatever the changes, my life is built on a very stable base.

Just a placeholder, really

2010-10-26T20:41:00.002-04:00

while I try to figure out why I have less time for writing now that I have no children here at home.

The picture above is our remaining Japanese red maple, in all of her glory. Alas, they are not long lived trees and this one is beginning to show the ravages of age. But in the meantime, isn't she beautiful? The suggestive rock formation in the foreground is marking the direction north on the outer edge of the circle.

I Have Friends Who Write Books

2010-10-16T14:05:00.003-04:00

The book is well written, fast paced, and funny as hell. Don claims that "The Law Is My Shepherd" is fiction. But I suspect that many people familiar with certain sections of Northern New Jersey will argue that this police procedural involving the undead isn't a fantasy work. Either way, it is definitely worth the read. Look for it (and buy it, really!) at Lulu.com.

Way Behind...

2010-10-05T21:25:00.003-04:00

Which is better than left behind, I suppose.

There was a phenomenal storm here the night of the Full Moon/Equinox (which, as of this writing was nearly 2 weeks ago). While the torrents of rain didn't continue for more than an hour, the thunder and lightning stuck around long after the rain moved off. And what thunder and lightning! I love those types of storms.

Because the weather turned "bad" my neighbors all went indoors earlier than they usually do, and that allowed me to have more privacy outdoors-or so I thought. But whether it was the storm, or the Equinox, or the Full Moon or the combination of the three, my yard was very crowded. It was as if the lightning had rent the veil between planes or the change in the atmosphere allowed me to see those beings that might always live near me, but that are normally beyond my vision. Most of these beings ignored me, as I suspect they usually do. I wonder, too, how much of the crowdedness had to do with the fact that our land management (if such a pretentious phrase can be used regarding property of barely half an acre) doesn't make the spirits uncomfortable; my neighbors yards certainly seemed less busy than mine. Unless the Devas were throwing a party?

The circle was clear and empty, but when I stepped into it, I was surprised. There, standing directly to the west was a woman. Or, what I thought was a woman, except she was about 10 feet tall, taller than the trees of the circle in that section. She was solid, manifested and clearly "there" unlike the more sylph-like spirits partying elsewhere in the yard. Tall, solid, dressed in silvery grey apparel, over her crooked arm was a basket? Or a shield, with a basket embossed on it. While she was solid, what she carried, wasn't. She stood and watched, saying and doing nothing. She seemed satisfied and pleased, but was non-demonstrative. She vanished as I was closing the ritual. I have no idea who she was, nor how to find out. Anyone have any ideas?

If you can't admit to even the tiniest smidgen of good in your life, how could you ever recognize true abundance or blessings or gifts......

2010-09-01T12:32:00.007-04:00

HAVING TO HAVE IN ORDER TO HAVE
A Teaching from Gershon Winkler

There is this strange concept in ancient Jewish wisdom: You cannot fill a vessel that is empty. Only if it’s got something in it, of any quantity. To receive Blessing you need a “Vessel capable of grasping Blessing”, the ancients insisted, for “Less grasps More” (Midrash Bereisheet Rabbah 5:7). This seems puzzling on the surface of it because why else would I be in need of Blessing if I weren’t running on empty? It is precisely because I am lacking that I am in need. So if I am empty, please fill me up!

Hello!!

Let me tell you a story. About 2800 years ago, there was a great Jewish prophet named Elisha. He was the foremost disciple of the prophet Elijah (Eliyahu), and he was a seasoned miracle-worker, a real true-blue shaman. One day a guy comes to share some bread with him,and Elisha instructs his aide to share the bread with everyone. The aide looks around at the several hundred people gathered around the prophet and says, “No way. There are only like twenty loaves here.” And Elisha again insists that he share the bread with everyone. So the aide goes around, and lo and behold the loaves of bread multiply and keep multiplying until everyone in the crowd has been fed (Second Kings, 4:42-44). So he was that kind of guy. Well, one day, a widow who had fallen on very hard times came to Elisha to seek his help. She had lost everything, was very poor, and in deep debt, to the point that shewas going to have to offer her sons as indentured servants unless some miracle occurred soon. Elisha then asked her “What do you have in your home?” She says, “I have nothing in my home other than a teeny-tiny drop of oil.” Says Elisha, “Go to your neighbors and borrow from them as many empty vessels as you can. Then go home, shut the door behind you, and pour that teeny-tiny drop of oil into all the vessels.” The woman went to her neighbors and with the help of her sons schlepped dozens of empty vessels to her home, then went inside, shut the door behind her, and began filling all of them with oil as her teeny-tiny drop of oil miraculously swelled into gallons and gallons until she ran out of vessels. Elisha then instructed her to sell the oil, which she did, and soon she recouped financially and lived happily ever after (Second Kings, 4:1-7).

The Zohar teaches us the following about Blessing, that Blessing is drawn to us from Above by what we already possess if we cherish the gift of what we already have. When we cherish what we do have, no matter how little of it we possess, the appreciation itself is potent enough to draw further blessing from the Root of all Blessing. This is why, when that poverty-stricken woman came to the prophet Elisha seeking his help, he didn’t ask her what it was that she lacked. Rather, he asked her what it was that she already had, that she didn’t lack, that she cherished already having. Her reply sounded pathetic: “I have nothing in the house. Well, I do have a smidgen of oil” – which the Zohar elaborates on, “Meaning, just enough to spread across the tip of her finger”. Elisha’s reply, the Zohar elaborates, was: “Oh! You have consoled me. I was worried you might feel like you have nothing at all. But what you acknowledge that you do have is more than enough to draw Blessing from Above”(Zohar, Vol. 1, folio 88a).

In other words, you took the time and effort to look beyond the obvious scenario of your situation to uncover the hidden, the blessings in your life that were overlooked, overshadowed by your problems.The woman could have said, “I have nothing whatsoever.” Because what is a smidgen of oil? But since she demonstrated her awareness of even so little being precious enough to consider as a blessing of some degree – it sufficed to draw down further blessings of further degrees, enough to fill all of the pots and pans that she had borrowed from her neighbors. Great teaching. In order to invite more of what you need, you must first come to grips with what you already have, and acknowledge the gift of it, even if it’s just the shirt off your back, or your health, or enough of your health to move around, and so on – even if you have absolutely nothing at all but peace, it’s a good start, “for there is no greater vessel capable of grasping Blessing than Peace” (Midrash Bamid’bar Rabbah 21:1).

It’s like the Kabbalistic take on Creation, that the fledgling primeval universe was completely empty, and therefore when the Light of Creation entered it, it exploded, it shattered, because it was not a “Vessel capable of grasping Blessing” – having nothing within it. Shattered, it became filled with the sparks of the Light of Creation that it failed to contain, and thus, by becoming filled with something,even the debris of the implosion, it became a vessel capable of receiving the subsequent unfolding of existence as we came to know it. Blessing is primarily drawn not by virtue of what is obvious to us that we have, but to what is not obvious to us that we have (Talmud, Baba Kama 42a).

What is conspicuous to us, is in that moment measured, large, small, worth five dollars, worth three dollars, worth a buck fifty, great, not so great, etc. On the other hand, taught the 16th-centuryRabbi Yehudah Loew of Prague, what we have that is not right off obvious to us is in the realm of the immeasurable and draws Blessing because Blessing is immeasurable as it emanates from the realm of the Infinite as opposed to the Finite, “For the eye casts boundaries and limitations, whereas Blessings are without either” ( _Maharal in ChidusheiAggadot_, Vol. 3, folio 21).

This is an exercise that requires us to look deep inside our life situations, to seek out what gifts we have been in possession of all along but have been oblivious to all this time. This takes effort, this takes introspection. “The Blessing Flow from Above comesto us in strengths and quantities commensurate with our desires and efforts to draw it Below.

This is akin to breast milk, abundant and ready to flow forth, but dependent upon how determined the infant is in suckling” (Kitzur Sefer Yo’nat Ilem, No. 122). The widow in the story of Elisha did not stop at declaring that she had nothing in the house. She stayed with the question, examined deeply her situation to see if there was anything of any value in the house, and remembered that there was a teeny-tiny drop of something worth being thankful for.

The Hebraic New Year 5771 is almost upon us, sneaking up on us earlier than usual this year. What an auspicious time to examine Blessing in our lives. Often we become frustrated and skeptical around this time that promises renewal in the year to come. And then the new year comes, and it’s same-old, same-old. Perhaps that is because we expended so much energy and intention praying for a better year than we had without really examining the good stuff that came to us during the past year, the Blessings. Instead, we skimp right over all the wonderful things that happened and pray for something better. This Rosh Hashanah, it would be refreshing for a change to spend a little time being thankful for whatever went right this past year and only then praying for a good year ahead. By so doing, we will create in our lives “A Vessel Capable of Grasping Blessing.”Like the ancient rabbis taught: Before you ask God for what you lack, thank God for what you have (Midrash Devarim Rabbah 2:1).

A Pair of Mysteries

2010-08-26T20:54:00.002-04:00

First:

Tuesday night, during my Full Moon work, I asked that I be told where I should place my "Thank You" offerings at the next (Harvest) Full Moon. That night I had a very clear and vivid dream, and I am pretty sure that the answer is here, if I could only tease it out.

I was sitting in a restaurant, at a long table. Crowded together at
the head of the table were my two daughters, my (deceased)Grandmother and myself. I remember feeling quite impatient and hungry in the dream. Finally, the waitress (who, in "real" life owns the restaurant) brought to the table a single, hard boiled egg. My Grandmother took it and placed it in front of herself, halved it, but didn't eat it. My younger daughter, knowing I was hungry picked it up to pass it to me, but my Grandmother took it from her and said, "It isn't for you" and put it down again at her place.

Eggs, and hard boiled eggs have many symbolic meanings. To most, the clearest meaning of the egg (at least the non-hard boiled variety) is that of fertility. To Jews, and those of Jewish background and learning, it is also a symbol of the sacrifice given at the Temple in Jerusalem. By extension, the hard boiled egg is generalized to be a symbol of sacrifice and also of mourning, because the Temple is no more.

So what is my Grandmother trying to tell me?

Second:

How is it that this blog gains readers when I don't post? I'm not complaining, mind you, but it does surprise.

Shielding-An Experiment

2010-08-16T22:22:00.002-04:00

It is Renaissance Faire season, and my "home" faire has opened. This means that there is a more or less public place that I shall be at, where I am not habitually shielded. I pretty much go "shields up" every time I leave my home, dropping them only when I have arrived at what feels to me is a safe place. Public spots rarely qualify. My home faire is one of those places, and I've been known to say that my faire day doesn't really start until I've been served my first hard cider and a small child has seen me and said "Look, a witch!"

This past spring, I attended two other faires and had a chance to run a small experiment. At the first one, I dressed identically to the way I've dressed at my home faire. But this one, held on an open college campus, did not say "safe" to me, and so protections stayed in place. I spoke with people, including children. Not one looked at me twice, I was a tourist faire attendee, just as they were, watching the chess match and debating the wisdom of eating a turkey leg.

The second non-home faire was held in a park, although in a somewhat enclosed area. Many of the attendees were familiar to me. I was not wearing my usual attire. I wore bright blue, with a circlet of gold flowers in my hair. But the place felt safe, so the layers of protection came down. And a little girl pointed at me and said "Mommy, a witch!"

I am glad that I do not scare these children when they really see me. But except for those rare and special places, the shields will stay in place.

Space

2010-07-25T19:11:00.003-04:00

The tree circle is nearly 4 years old. I find that odd to think about, because I know that there were other things in that yard before then. There was a swing set, and it was fenced, so the dog could run and the kids could play safely. The dog, the swing set and even most of the fence are gone, but the idea, the sense of safety, of sanctuary is still very much part of the personality of the space.

We started the planning of the circle not long after DH started his adult (as opposed to his teenage) studies and foray into Western Ceremonial Magic. Up until that point, I used our bedroom for my altar and working space (with the exception of anything that require large fires, actual outdoor doings, etc). But after DH had started working there, it took longer and longer for me to step into the proper psychic space. It bothered him greatly that he "threw me out" of space that I had been using, but I've come to the conclusion that it was more a case of pointing out the deficiencies of the space for what I had been using it for. I still have altars in the room, and I still use it for some ritualwork, but all of my more organic ritual and magic have moved outdoors.

We live in one of those suburbs "overrun" with deer. While we had our wolfhound, they never came in the yard. But I suppose the last generation of deer to "remember" the dog that was bigger than they were is now gone, and the last few years has seen more deer damage on our property. This year, with the seemingly wanton destruction in my tomato garden and apple tree, I declared war on the deer. (This war has not been without a few good points-the wonderful scene of DH, hair unbound, wearing nothing more than a pair of gym shorts and brandishing his Renn Faire Wizard prop staff while chasing a buck out of the yard is a picture I happily call to mind on a regular basis.)

We chase them. We yell at them. Most effective have been the rags, soaked in neem seed oil and tied to the garden fences and (soon) to the tree branches. The deer now know (at least this season) that we are not welcoming them. And yet...

I came home midday from a session with a client on Friday to see a pair of very small, spotted fauns reclining in the middle of the circle. They were clearly visible to the street and the neighbors dogs, and yet they looked perfectly relaxed and comfortable. Mama was nowhere to be seen, but it was clear that she had put them there and told them to "stay." There was no sense of fear from them as I walked towards them.

A safe place. Sanctuary.

Point lost

2010-07-21T19:30:00.003-04:00

I think the point was lost in the (admitted) pathos of the previous post. My experiences were not unusual, but unless you have lived in non-Christian communities in this country, you would probably not be aware of such happenings. And, by non-Christian, I am not referring to the "we are Pagan, but we have a Christmas tree, only, you know, we call it a Yule tree, community." I am speaking of the Jewish communities, the Bahai, the Hindu, the Muslim, perhaps the Buddhist (I currently have no experience with intact, distinct Pagan communities in the mode of the others I've refered to, so I am not including them here.)

The problem with the concept of evangelism is that it is seen from the side of the "giver." "Ooh, look what I have to share!" There is no space available in the concept to ask whether the recipient is a willing one. And, no matter how enlightened, how "unpushy" some people may be in their beliefs, the history of humanity has shown that eventually, it becomes not "look what I have to share" but "you will take it, whether you want to, or not."

I made mention in one of my comments on another blog about the different versions of the Golden Rule. There are two (in English, at any rate) that I am aware of. The more common one: Do Unto Others As You Would Have Them Do Unto You. (attributed to Jesus, via Matthew)
and: Do Not Do Unto Others As You Would Not Have Them Do Unto You (attributed to Hillel)

So now I am curious. How many people are there who disagree with me and are neither Christian, nor of Christian background or heritage?

Framework, or some of where I am coming from

2010-07-21T13:53:00.002-04:00

Imagine this.

A ten year old girl, going to sleep away camp for the first time. Being adventurous, the camp chosen is far out in the rural countryside, a world away from the city and suburbs that the girl knows. Before arriving at the camp, she knows no one else there. Adjustment is not easy, but since most of the girls at the camp come from the same area, she finds a friend or two. One day, the campers go on a field trip, to the local County fair. This being a bygone and far more innocent age, the campers did not have to walk through the fair in long strings, holding hands and counting off. Everyone wore shirts identifying them as from the camp, and as long as everyone showed up at the appointed place and time for attendance checks, the girls were free to wander.

Our girl visited the chickens and admired the 4-H rabbits, and then walked through the area with the craft and souvenir tables. Passing one table, a woman called out "Camp girl, do you know Jesus?" (yes, she actually called out "camp girl." damn t-shirt.) Politely, the girl answered "No, I'm Jewish." At which point, the woman came out from behind the table, along with 3 other people (2 other women, 1 man) and surrounded the girl. There was talk of Jesus dying for someones sins, even though she and her people killed him. There was talk of hellfire. There was no sense of personal space for the girl, nor any space between the sentences for her to speak, even if she had any idea of how to respond to this.

This is not the behavior of people sharing good news. This is the behavior of predators.

Finally, one of the camp counselors appeared, as the girl had missed one of the check-ins. At the sight of an approaching adult in a camp t-shirt, the girls hands were shoved full with pamphlets, "your mother will want them" she was told, and the 4 people went back behind their table. Needless to say, the counselor wanted to know what was going on, and as the girl and the counselor rejoined the rest of the people from the camp, the girl told the story. There was a bit of shrugging, but as the girl didn't get in trouble for missing check in, she was relieved.

During the car ride back to the camp, the driver (a local employee of the camp) stopped short and suddenly at an intersection. She then started joking about all the near accidents she has had over the years while driving campers and how even the "little Jewish girls" would start saying their rosaries. How she always had a extra one with her, "just in case one of them wanted one." She seemed to be completely convinced that she was being amusing.

This was not the behavior of a "born again fundie" but it was the behavior of someone whose religion and belief hold complete disdain (at best) for someone who does not believe as they do.

After Jason posted his Father Matthew video, http://strategicsorcery.blogspot.com/2010/07/blog-post.html
he professed surprise at the reactions he got to the post. While I can't speak for anyone else, my reaction, first and foremost was to this line: "Certainly among non-Christians, there is nothing that makes them less comfortable than the idea of Evangelism. The fact is though that it is a duty of Christians to evangelize."

Uncomfortable? Now why would you think that might be?

The video is not actually about evanglizing or reaching out to non-Christians, but rather counteracting, amongst Christians the onslaught of the fundamentalist movement. To which all I can say is: fine, clean your own house, and then we will talk about my discomfort.

Oh-and the reaction of the mother of the girl to this story and the pamphlets? Do you know the phrase "Hell has no fury...?"

Deb, at Charmed, I'm Sure

2010-07-18T22:31:00.002-04:00

I don't know how many of the readers of this blog don't read Deb's blog : http://dropoutdilettante.blogspot.com/

but she has the lead essay at Witchvox this week. If you aren't a past reader of her blog it is an essay worth reading.

http://www.witchvox.com/va/dt_va.html?a=usnj&c=words&id=14051

The Upside

2010-07-17T18:09:00.003-04:00

One thing I can say about this "learning how to draw astrological birth charts without using a computer program" project; my sewing skills are improving.

Since starting the astrology project I've made and finished a leine and a giornea. I've now started a second leine and have fabric and pattern for a (non-faire garb) dress. By the time I've done my tenth chart I should at least have some idea of what I am doing chart-wise and will have a nice wardrobe in addition.

My Aura is Clear and Beautiful

2010-07-12T22:46:00.002-04:00

Three times over the past year I've been told so, by total strangers. By now, you would think that I would know how to respond to a statement like that, but I have been taken aback by it, each time.

Last night in the circle the feel was giddy/happy/holy. What more could you want for a Dark Moon/New Moon/ Eclipse night? In the cup of my hands, I saw a blond woman, in a white "blousy" blouse. I didn't recognize her and later thought that she might have something to do with the Renn Faire, because of her blouse.

Except I met her today.

I had stopped in at a new store in town, an "astrology boutique" and the blond woman in the white blouse greeted me when I stepped into the store. It was she who told me (today) of the state of my aura. A sales come-on? Possibly, except I would think that mentioning a smudge or a darkening would be a better sales pitch. We started chatting and she realized that I came in as a local business person, to welcome her to Main Street, not as a potential (at least today) client. We exchanged business cards. As I was leaving, she also told me something that I had received in other types of messages.

So, how would you respond to an uninvited comment as to the state of your aura?

The Spagyric Report Returns

2010-07-01T19:22:00.006-04:00

(The work has been ongoing, but the blogging-well, you know...)

Back in October, when the Sun, the Moon and Venus were all in Libra, I put together the ingredients for the Venus tincture, 1/4 ounce of home grown and dried rose petals, even divided between pink and white (currently, we do not grow any other color roses) and the Everclear. 1/4 ounce doesn't sound like a lot, but when you are talking dried flower petals, the volume is significant.

My notes read: The pink roses had faded to sepia, except on the inside bases of the petals where they were still pink. The white rose petals were still white, except at the very edges of the petals, where they were beginning to brown. There was a very strong fragrance of rose as I crushed the petals. Once in the jar, with the Everclear poured over the rose petals the scent of the flowers became even more pronounced, as if the scent molecules were being carried aloft by any instantly evaporating alcohol. The Everclear picked up an almost gold tinge, but mostly seemed to magnify and emphasize the details of the petals in the jar. I wrapped the jar tightly, labeled it, and put it aside.

And there is sat, for months and months. When I first started this project, I went by the directions I had been given, having no experience with spagyrics. The time frame for the creation of each tincture was pretty short-as long as the moon phase was appropriate for the part of the job to be done, the actual time elapsed didn't seem that important. But as I've gone along, I've gotten far better as listening to the herb and tincture and working on that time frame. And Venus kept saying "Not yet. Patience." (so has Sun, which, as you may note, does not yet have a dropper bottle.)

This spring, with Venus, Sun and Mercury in Taurus was time. In fact, maybe having to do with the Moon in Leo, it was quite emphatically time. Six months had elapsed since I had put the herbs up to steep, but from the sensations I was getting from the bottle, I wouldn't have been surprised in the least had it been 9 months (I was a little disappointed, when looking at my notes and the calendar, that it wasn't 9 months.)

When I strained the rose petals out of the liquid, they crumbled and nearly disintegrated under their own weight. The menstruum was a deep gold, and the scent was heady and very sweet, but not noticeably rose-like. When lit, the petals burned to a fine ash very quickly, and once cooled, dissolved into the purified water without any residue. The crystals that formed out of the evaporated water were colorless, but very very bright. They were even and consistent in shape, and (for once!) easy to scrape out of the plate and back into the menstruum.

The taste/use/effect of this tincture? It is all sweet things, but not cloying. There is no scent or taste of roses, instead imagine the most perfectly ripe persian or honeydew melon. In fact, it brought to mind the idea of "round." Not a circle, a sphere. Whole. A deep, unrestricted breath. The idea that all the ideas, all the symbols that artists and mystics try to cram into the Empress Card of the tarot is sitting in this little dropper bottle, waiting for me so that I might know them.

Somehow, "cool stuff" just doesn't cover it.

The Book Game, Part 2

2010-06-23T10:40:00.003-04:00

(I just really like this picture!)

I am about to leave for a few days in Boston, doing a Mother Job. I may or may not have to time blog (I have left notes, should I get to it), isn't that what Starbucks is for? It certainly isn't for the coffee! Anyway, Jason suggested http://strategicsorcery.blogspot.com/2010/06/more-book-games.html creating a list of the next 5 books on the To Read pile.

So here they are, in no particular order:

Magic, Science and Religion, by Bronislaw Malinowski

Reading the OED, by Ammon Shea

The World Is Not Enough, By Zoe Oldenbourg

The Encyclopedia of Spirits, by Judika Illes

The Snouters, Form and Life of the Rhinogrades, by Harald Stumpke

(I am currently reading Whisper of Stone, by Tess Dawson)

I will bring the Malinowski book and the most recent copy of Vogue Magazine with me, as they take up the least amount of space and weigh the least of the items on this list.

Garden Blogging

2010-06-16T20:46:00.002-04:00

Lavender, at dusk. Soothing, no?

I haven't completely figured it out, but the years that are good for the roses aren't good years for the lavender. The good lavender years are not good rose years, either. This is a lavender year.

I Tried

2010-06-14T19:12:00.002-04:00

The book game, that is. But after spending far more time at it than I really had, I've put it aside for now. At one point, the book list looked like my college text shopping list (I majored in the Classics, minored in Linguistics and Medieval History). Another list was mostly childrens books, with the addition of some gardening books and a book on feminist, thelemic sex magic. (try saying that 3 times, fast). The problem I faced was; do I create a list of books that helped to shape me? Or a list that I would use to shape someone else?

(interesting how spell check suggested that instead of "childrens" I meant "chaldeans.")

The Sumptuary laws would have gotten me for sure

2010-05-30T12:58:00.004-04:00

The gold and royal blue brocade surcoat (more properly, a Giornea), mostly finished. I added a storm grey silk collar, since the brocade can be itchy. I may place a few tucks near the waist, or do something with the front, in order to show off more of the undergown. (I don't like the way the front corner hem turns back and shows up under the back hem.) But I am putting aside the Ooh Shiny project for now. I have more astrology charts to do.

Some things I don't understand at the moment

2010-05-28T13:56:00.003-04:00

but with a little more time and work, I might.

Things experienced in the circle last night. Large ornamental koi, a crab, seafoam and a red dragon that swims as well as being able to fly. What does any of this have to do with a full moon in Saggittarius?

Dreams experienced after the ritual last night-about books and authors. One dream had me reading a book that was itself a list of books recommended. The book was written by someone I know (whom, to my best knowledge has not written any books), and the books most highly recommended were all on the subject of seidr (again, to my best knowledge, not something this person has experience with) and written by women. A second dream had another acquaintance (who has written books) as a long term family friend of the people who live across the street from me. They were surprised to hear that I knew him. He was coming to live with them and eventually buy their house. (hmm, the house in question is actually waterfront...)

And, something else, while I am discussing things not currently understood...

Something else I don't really understand-the current blogosphere issue of Christianity/Jesus/Christ/belief/Golden Dawn/etc. etc. etc. Christianity is/has become a "universal" religion. Thus, it must absorb and incorporate, like the Borg, all that has come before it. Anything that will not, or cannot be absorbed is thus in conflict with it. (btw, Christianity is not the only religion with this stance.) Thus, the hermeticism that has become the basis for most Western magical systems. But, if your basis (religion, code, ethics, whatever) is tribal, racial (in the modern world, a very ugly term), or in any other way non-universal, you have a far easier time shrugging off the "other" as simply that. Other.

I am not confused in what and how I believe, I just don't really care if anyone else agrees with me. I also have no ego issues with saying "I don't know."

Grounding and Centering

2010-05-25T13:47:00.002-04:00

Do you want a good test of how effective your grounding and centering practices are? Try phoning your local motor vehicle bureau. Between the absurd upbeat psuedo jazz soundtrack and the recording telling you that customer service representatives are eager to assist you, you will find your talents truly stretched. Whatever you do, do not watch a clock as the minutes go by, interrupted by further messages that much information is available 24 hours a day on the DMV website. Because if the information that you were looking for was available on the website, you would not be spending your time sitting on the phone.

How well do you think you would do on this test? Do you want to reach out and blast something, yet?

Out of the frying pan...

2010-05-23T12:46:00.002-04:00

In celebration of my having finished not one, but two hand drawn, with-no-help-from-computer-program astrological charts, I have succumbed to the Ooh, Shiny! and have started making a royal blue and gold metallic thread brocade surcoat. Thereby guaranteeing, that had I lived in the Middle Ages or Renaissance, if I escaped being accused of witchcraft, the sumptuary laws would have gotten me.

Money

2010-05-12T08:05:00.002-04:00

Recently, there was a spate of blog posts on the subject of money and wealth spells-do they work? Are they a good idea? I didn't get involved in the discussion because my view of wealth does not so much involve actual dollars and cents, but the quality of my life, and the lives of those I love, and the lives of those who touch my life, however tangentially.

Jason Miller made a point at his most recent workshop that asking for help from a Celestial spirit to become "rich" might be less than totally effective-at least from the point of view of the magician doing the work. The reason Jason gave was that pretty much anyone in the Western Hemisphere, much less someone who has the time and inclination to do such magic, IS rich compared to the rest of the world.

Want to know how rich (money-wise) you really are? Try here:

http://www.globalrichlist.com/

The Wheel, She Turns

2010-05-11T18:25:00.008-04:00

This past Sunday was Mother's Day in the United States. It was the 22nd occurrence for which I was one of the honorees. It was also likely to be the last one for me with one of my children resident. The Friday before the holiday was my younger daughters high school prom. Next week, my older daughter graduates from college. In less than a months time, the younger one will have her graduation from high school. Come the end of the summer, they will both leave, one for college, one for graduate school, heading in opposite directions, to other states.

Life moves on, which is as it should be.

I am not a sentimental person, although I am a person of strong emotions.

I posted a picture of my daughter in her prom finery, and in addition to the totally deserved "wows!" (well, she is gorgeous and she had designed and made the gown, which was also gorgeous), there were comments referencing the existence of sodden tissues and a sense of the bittersweet. I simply do not understand. This was an occasion of pure joy, a celebration of what has been achieved so far.

I could understand sadness if she hadn't chosen to do and be who she is and had accepted, without thought, to be mediocre, run of the mill, or ever less than that. I could understand a sense of the bittersweet, if I were discontented, if I would have preferred to have had a different life. Or even worse, if I had preferred to be in my daughters place, to be belle of the high school ball, again or still. (If there is anyone reading this, who knew me in high school-feel free to laugh at the idea.)

But I chose my life, and having chosen it, did the best I could at it. The preliminary results look promising.

Not to say that is has been easy, it certainly hasn't been. I am absolutely convinced that neither child slept through the night until they were teenagers. As soon as they could handle books and flashlights, we would stash them under the girls pillows so they could have something to look at or read at night. And very very early on, I taught them how to get their own breakfasts (assembled by me, the night before), in a effort to get "just a few more minutes of sleep." Both girls are now very well read and good cooks.

Because my younger daughter has played in the honors section jazz band, and DH works an "unusual" work schedule, I have been getting up between 5:30 and 6 in the morning, and counting myself lucky to be in bed by midnight. For more than 3 1/2 of those years, I just did it. Wasn't easy, but I managed. The end is in sight, the final jazz concert in 3 weeks. And all of a sudden, my body says "enough!" I have taken more naps in the last 3 weeks, than I did in the 3 years preceding. Body and Spirit know that this period in my life is coming to an end and that is just fine.

I love my daughters beyond the ability of words to express. I have every Mothers Day card they have made me (and they always made their cards for me). I have every birthday card, every letter they wrote from camp, the portraits they drew of me, every newspaper clipping that mentioned them. They have been amazing (and challenging!) children.

I can't wait to see the amazing adults that they are becoming.

postscript to last night.

2010-05-05T23:24:00.004-04:00

Clearly, I was a little loopy last night, with the last blog post. Salamanders were not the point of the evening, although they were among the guests. I wouldn't have minded more two legged guests, a drummer or two perhaps, and people to dance with. There should have been more people than just me dancing around the fire. Eventually, there was another. He was always on the far side of the flames from me, keeping time. I could feel his presence more clearly than I could see him, but he was there.

I did not sleep restfully afterwards. There were many, many dreams. One was a warning? Or an explanation of what was possibly to come? Others were just strange. Former President Carter hacking a Star Wars computer game?

The first bird sounds of the morning came a little before 5am. I got out of bed and went back outside. Near the rose bush by the kitchen door, I knelt down and rinsed my face with the morning dew that had collected on the grass. I said "good morning" to my daughter, who was awake for the day by then. I went back to bed. Finally, I slept well.

(The picture at the top is not a rose, it is one of the peonies. The roses will start blooming next month.)

2010-05-04T23:09:00.001-04:00

Where do the salamanders go
When the bright coals turn to ash?

Hmmmm

2010-05-02T22:42:00.004-04:00

I don't know if this should amuse me or not. I've noticed that adults address me as "MiLady" at RennFaire type events. But children point me out as a witch. Even when I am wearing blue and talking on a bright red cell phone.

More Beltane Walpurgis May Day musings.

2010-04-30T19:10:00.003-04:00

I am going to admit right now, that tomorrow, May Day, Beltane to so many, will see me dressed in, yes, RennFaire Garb. I might even grab a ribbon and dance at the May Pole, should ribbon and pole be available.

But you see, I will be at a RennFaire type event. I will be at the Hudson Valley MayFaire and Farmers Market. http://www.hudsonvalleymayfaire.com/
This is a fundraiser for the Queens Galley of the Hudson Valley, a not for profit organization that provides awareness, education, relief and prevention of food insecurity in America. The Queens Galley also runs a food pantry and soup kitchen, serving 3 meals a day to those who need it, any and every day of the year. http://www.queensgalley.org/

This doesn't negate anything that I might have said about my own observances because...(many of you know the chorus, right?) a Cross Quarter day happens on the astronomical midpoint between the Quarters. That happens May 5th this year. The night of May 4th, I shall light the fire. I will dance. I will feel the tides change and the magic swell.

Sometimes, its good to be pedantic. I get to have the public fun and silliness and the real stuff, too.

(almost) First of May

2010-04-29T22:16:00.004-04:00

Whether it is Beltane, Walpurgis or May Day to you;

May it be a Day/Night of appropriate joy and fear.

And if it is merely May 1

may you enjoy this:

(lyrics not work or young child appropriate)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gRhPeJ3uzOc

(Thank you, Frater POS at Doing Magick and Jack Faust at Dionysian Atavism for the inspiration)

Q & A #2

2010-04-20T18:28:00.004-04:00

What is the magick of your land? How does your land feel different from other lands you have visited?

This is actually a far harder question than it appears. To me, it is akin to asking "how do you feel differently from other people that you may know?"

The land on this property had been abused when we bought it. It had gone from forest to farm before the farm was split up and our house was built. The man who built and occupied our home was a gardener; he planted and nurtured and encouraged. When he died, his nephew inherited. Trees were cut down, flowering bushes and flower gardens dug up, the land and its spirits, starved. People in the neighborhood started parking their cars on the lawn, throwing their trash on it, walking through what was left of the flower beds. In short, it was neglected and abused.

It didn't trust us at first. Why should it? And we made mis-steps; planting things in places they had no business being planted, getting over-ambitious with projects and not following through, experimenting with chemical gardening before going organic. Little by little, we learned to pay attention and the land and its spirits learned that we would listen. We paid our dues, our homage, our sacrifices, in time and effort, in sweat, tears and blood, shed both accidentally and deliberately. The land is cared for and protected and in turn, it cares for and protects us.

So what is the feeling of the magic of this land? It is a rich place and a place of protection. When I come home tired, stressed, drained, I can walk on the grass, into the circle and feel myself being fed. The sensation comes from below me, from the ground. It comes from the sides, from the trees and bushes. It comes from above, from the tallest bordering trees, the birds, the air itself.

There are birds and animals here that do not spend time in other peoples yards, preferring the wild areas. But my gardens have (for the most part) been left alone.

I'm not really sure how to compare this place to most others. Most of the time I keep myself so tightly shielded when I leave it, that to effect me the sense of a place must be very strong.

Postmodern Magic

2010-04-18T18:11:00.002-04:00

I've removed Patrick Dunn's blog Postmodern Magic from my sidebar. Not because I don't read it, or I don't think that other would find it interesting, but because I couldn't figure out how to convince blogger to update the sidebar listing when he would publish a new post. Go here:

http://pomomagic.wordpress.com/

and subscribe. That way you will be able to see what Patrick writes, he is definitely worth reading!

Q&A # 1

2010-04-16T22:11:00.006-04:00

"Okay, question for you AND for your followers: is east or south Fire for you in your workings, and why?"

I tend to do things in a rather traditional manner, even if my way of getting there is less than academic and always specific to where I am.

East is Air, the first breath drawn, the coloring of the clouds at dawn, the ruffling of birds feathers (diurnal birds, at least) as they awaken.

South is Fire, far less poetic, but is the force that compels me to close the window blinds on that side of the house in the summer.

West is Water; in that direction is the largest part of the lake that I live next to, and is the direction that the streams that feed the lake flow.

North is Earth, while there are hills and small mountains surrounding the lake area, the closest tall land is to the north. It is also, interestingly enough, the direction that feels "cozy" to me. Whether that is because earth itself has a cozy feel or because winter and winter weather causes me to seek out and create a sense of coziness, I haven't completely teased out.

I am of firm belief that the attributions of Element and Direction should fit your location-if I lived on the Atlantic (while still being on the North American continent) I would be very surprised if I didn't feel that Water was East.

As for my followers, I am taking the position that the question refers to the followers/readers of my blog (as far as I am aware, I have no followers/acolytes. If I do, I could use a hand with the weeding in the garden). Anyone reading is welcome to leave their answers as comments to this post, I will certainly publish them.

The value of memes

2010-04-01T14:43:00.002-04:00

I now understand why so many bloggers went through an "ask me anything" phase. It helps keep up the word count and traffic when you just aren't inspired otherwise. (I have noticed a distinct lack of magic and paganism among my subjects of late. The offline activities are there, I just seem to be lacking the desire to write about them.)

If you so desire, go ahead and leave a question in the comment box. I may answer it. I might not. But as I am leaving for Boston at stupid o'clock tomorrow morning, nothing will be done until next week.

2010-03-28T20:11:00.004-04:00

(Yes, I am still here. I apologize for the length of the hiatus-I never intended it to be as long as it became. For a blog whose sole reason for existence was to give me a place to express thoughts, with no further profit sought, I am both amused and humbled by how much value I place on those of you who read here.)

We are now post-Equinox and it is spring (the picture above is rhubarb, the first sign of life in my gardens this year). I would have said "finally" spring, except time is such a strange thing. The winter was long (what winter isn't?), but the year short. The mars retrograde was long, but not as long as the one in 2007 (by mood and effect at least). The years when I had very small children at home seemed to last for ice ages (I really didn't think I would survive), but now it appears that the whole active mother with children at home stage seems to be going by in the blink of an eye. And, tomorrow night, when I go out into the circle for the Full Moon, time will stand still. What am I to make of all this? I really don't know, other than:

1. I didn't mean to go as long without a post here as I did; and

2. the faster time goes, the easier it is to appear patient.

Tomorrow (Full Moon) will be the start of Passover. The house is almost ready (if you don't know how to prepare for Passover, imagine the most thorough spring cleaning and multiply by 10), and by sundown tomorrow, all the dishes, pots and pans, flatware, indeed, anything that has anything to do with food will have been cleaned and packed away. All of the dishes, pots, pans flatware and anything that has to do with Passover will be cleaned and set it place. We will hold 2 Seders, one with the extended family and one here at home. Although she gets short shrift in our traditional haggadah, Miriam and her Well have their place of honor at our table. We will honor our ancestors and remember when we were slaves. We will think of those who are still held in slavery-there are chains of all types. We will honor and celebrate the spring harvests that came even before the story in the haggadah. And we will honor our own spring harvests, in this house, they are the college and graduate school acceptance letters my daughters have received.

In essence, we will honor Time.

Purim, during the rx

2010-02-28T12:51:00.003-05:00

I'm still dealing (fighting with) the whole Mars retrograde in Leo business. Much of my thought processes feel as if they are large ornamental koi, swimming up near the surface of the water that is my conscious self; and just when I think I have a really good look at them or even a chance to grasp them, they sink below the surface again. Possibly, this is because my natal Mars is in Leo, possibly because I was born on a Tuesday, moments after dawn (Mars day, Mars hour).

In honor of Purim, which is today, I will leave you with an old blog post I wrote some years ago, and a link to a new post, by Rabbi Dennis.

Friday, March 21, 2008
Purim and Hamentashen
(apologies to those with delicate sensibilities...)The word "hamentashen," which refers to the cookes eaten at Purim, is commonly translated into English as "Hamen's Hats." Which is strange, because "taschen" means pocket, not hat. I found this blog post http://www.balashon.com/2006/03/hamentaschen.htmlthat attempts to explain this, but wearing my more rad-fem mythologist hat (or pocket) I don't think that it goes far enough. The blog post:The etymology of hamentaschen is fairly well known. They did not originally refer to Haman (and therefore the Hebrew אוזני המן oznei haman - came much later.) These pastries were originally called "mahn-taschen". Mohn means "poppy" in German, and tasch is a pocket. When you add the Hebrew definitive article ha, they become ha-mahn-taschen, which is easy to associate with Haman. Of course there are many "midrashim" (really Purim torah), that expound on the connection: that Haman had three-cornered ears like the pastry, or had a three cornered hat, or a new one for me, that it refers to המן תש - "Haman became weak." Posted by DLC at Sunday, March 12, 2006 7:47 AM

OK, but why pockets. Or hats? Or ears (another name for the cookie)? What do all of these things have in common, besides not usually being triangular (the shape of the cookie)? Answer: they are all receptacles-something to put something in. Purim is the least "Jewish" of modern Jewish holiday observances. A holiday of the full moon of the spring Equinox, the main player is a woman celebrated for her beauty, rather than piety, or observance, or obedience. Esther (think Aster, Ishtar, Innana) has the power of life and death, renewal; regeneration in her hands. Power she exercises by touching the "scepter" of the king. The man that Queen Esther chooses gets to rule the people. (does this sound familiar to you, Tammuz?)

But, back to the cookies. Look at them. Really look at them. Dark triangles (traditional fillings being poppy seed or prune), bounded by a paler, finer textured border. We already have the kings scepter, held out. So what exactly are these little pastry triangles, given the names of various receptacles? What do we celebrate so joyously, each spring?

My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, and my heart was moved for him.I rose up to open to my beloved; and my hands dropped with myrrh, and my fingers with flowing myrrh,
My beloved is white and ruddy, pre-eminent above ten thousand.His head is as the most fine gold, his locks are curled, and black as a raven.His eyes are like doves beside the water-brooks; washed with milk, and fitly set.His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as banks of sweet herbs; his lips are as lilies, dropping with flowing myrrh.His hands are as rods of gold set with beryl; his body is as polished ivory overlaid with sapphires.His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold; his aspect is like Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.His mouth is most sweet; yea, he is altogether
lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend. (Song of Songs)

And, from Rabbi Dennis:
http://ejmmm2007.blogspot.com/2010/02/esther-myth-behind-legend.html

Yartzeit

2010-02-26T21:10:00.004-05:00

On the Yartzeit (Yid. "anniversary"), the soul is at its greatest strength and in its fullest glory. With each ensuing year, this radiance again shines forth in the world and in the Heavens, as the soul is elevated to a higher spiritual level...

from Chabad.org

This is the first year anniversary of death of my Grandmother. My sister posted this very glamourous picture of her and I thought I would share another story of this amazing woman who influenced so many.

For much of his career, my Grandfather traveled quite a bit, leaving my Grandmother to raise their three daughters without his presence. As anyone who has raised children knows, this can take quite a toll on the resident parent. After one overseas trip or another, my Grandfather said to my Grandmother; "Helen, you have really let yourself go." Years later, when my Grandmother told me the story, she emphasized that she didn't think he was meaning to be unkind, he was just very tired and glad for the opportunity to say anything to the one person he didn't need to edit himself for. Even so, in telling me the story decades later, I could hear just how much the words stung.

A few months later, my Grandfather left for a short trip, and since he wouldn't be away all that long (and, traveling light, had little luggage), it was decided that he and my Grandmother would meet at the opera and have a night out together, upon his return. As soon as he left, my Grandmother went shopping for (for lack of better word) a Va-Va-Voom type dress and shoes, and then went and had her hair bleached and dyed platinum blond. At the agreed upon meeting place in the lobby of the opera, she had the pleasure of watching my Grandfather walk past her, and do a double take before accepting that she was, in fact, his "dowdy" wife.

He never criticized the way she looked, ever again.

I will be so glad when the Mars Retrograde is over for the year

2010-02-05T13:35:00.006-05:00

I dream a lot. I know everyone does, but I remember most (?) of mine, in detail, color and sound. I always have. I stopped keeping a dream journal when I realized that I was spending nearly an hour a day writing the dreams down, and that I was on my fourth volume for the year. My sister once read a magazine article which said that the "average" person remembers X number (I don't remember the number) of dreams a year. Looking back at one of the books of my dreams, I realized that I remembered that many in 6 weeks. Even knocked out on cold medicine I tend to remember bits and pieces; the last time that happened, I floated up toward consciousness with the thought "Damn, I hate having dreams that foretell my death." That was annoying, because I couldn't remember what came before that point. (oh, and the romantic and possibly Victorian idea that if you die in your dream, you will actually die in reality is false-I've seen my own death several times, and I am still here.)

Last night, I had a series of nightmares. After each one I awoke, practiced some calming breathing patterns and tried to turn the mood. It didn't work.

In the first dream, my younger daughter and I were on the run from the Nazis. If you are of Jewish background and raised post World War II, there is no easier symbol of complete and unbeatable evil for the subconscious to use, than the Nazis and their death camps. In the dream, a friend offered to hide us in his house, even while knowing the danger that he was putting himself in by doing so. Alas, we were betrayed by a neighbor of his, and as I woke up, heart pounding in panic, the final experience was of being in a desperate crowd, being driven by whips and trying unsuccessfully to hold onto my child.

The second dream was far less linear. There was something to do with shopping in a huge food warehouse, full of tropical and summer fruit. Then, I was enclosed in a room with a hungry and possibly rabid, bear. The room was filled with bear-proof hiding places, but they were all already filled with people and there was no room for me in any of them. I had placed all of those people in those places of safety and they trusted me. I could displace any one of them, merely by asking them to move, then I would be safe, but that other person wouldn't be. I tried to escape the bear by climbing to the top of a file cabinet, knowing that if the bear really wanted to, it would have no trouble climbing after me.

The final dream again had a clear story line. I am on some sort of business trip with both people I know very well and some that I cannot now identify. And from the hotel that we were staying at, we had to make a side trip to another city. On the return to the hotel, the taxi exited a tunnel into what looked like a war zone, with tumbled and destroyed buildings. Our hotel, and the buildings directly surrounding it were in a clear and safe area, though. It wasn't safe within the hotel, however all of the threats to me were of the mental, emotional and psychological variety (and of these, I am NOT going to go into any details on the blog.), although at one point, I did say "Fine, I will just go play in traffic!" which sounds far more petulant now than it did, then. In the end, I packed my suitcase, full of iridescent tee shirts and dresses and left. I woke up very depressed at that point.

I spent the morning thinking about each dream and what it might possibly mean. But I have come to the conclusion that individually, they mean less than they do as a set. They are meant to be thought of as chapters in a single story.

Dream #1 I am completely helpless and totally dependant on the aid of someone else. When that aid fails, not only am I destroyed, but so are my works, my hopes, and my future.

Dream #2. I am not completely helpless. I have managed to feed and protect my work as well as others, but only at the price of sacrificing me. This, however was not so much a deliberate sacrifice as much as not thinking things through and re-acting rather than acting deliberately.

Dream #3 I am not helpless. And I carry with me (as long as I remember that I do, and "pack my suitcase.") the tools that I need to recreate and reincarnate who and what I am, although not necessarily who and what I appear to be at any given time. (I apologize for the skimpiness of the details about dream #3, but this is a public blog. I doubt very much that anyone who might read this could send Nazis or bears after me, but the situations of dream # 3 could be recreated by the malign and skilled.)

This is the story of growing up. Not just the growing up from baby to legal drinking or driving age, but the growing up into being the self that you are intended to be. A review, if you will of what I have come out of and where I am heading. I suppose I should be grateful for the Mars rx review that has shown me that there has been progress. But I really wouldn't have minded some peaceful sleep.

Explaining the Subtitle

2010-01-14T23:17:00.004-05:00

It has come to my attention that not everyone understands the subtitle of my blog as I meant it to be understood. "Doing the small magics everyday, because many small things become something big" is not meant to be self denigrating, nor self deprecating. It is a philosophy of life. If you are familiar with Aesop's Fables, I am the Ant in the "Ant and the Grasshopper;" the Tortoise in the "Tortoise and the Hare." If you are happier with the world of JRR Tolkien, I am the Galadriel of Trilogy, with her heavily guarded (but not always visibly so) borders and mirror, not the Galadriel of the stories in the Silmarillion, who sought Power and Rule Over others (carefully chosen capitol letters.). Or maybe more accurately, I am Samwise, the gardener and caretaker. This isn't the type of role that is lauded by modern society, if, in fact it was ever lauded anywhere, at anytime. There is little overt glory in such a role. I have skills and talents; there are things magical that I am very good at, but I try to avoid the need for big showy stuff by taking care of things before they require big and showy and NOW!

A story that once (maybe more than once) made the email rounds:

One day a man comes home from work to find total mayhem at home! The kids were outside still in their pajamas playing in the mud and muck. There were empty food boxes and wrappers all around. As he proceeded into the house, he found an
even bigger mess. Dishes on the counter, dog food spilled on the floor, a broken glass under the table, and a small pile of sand by the back door. The family room was strewn with toys and various items of clothing, and a lamp had been knocked over.He headed up the stairs, stepping over toys, to look for his wife.

He was becoming worried that she may be ill, or that something had happened to her. He found her in the bedroom, still in bed with her pajamas on, reading a book.She looked up at him, smiled, and asked how his day went. He looked at her bewildered and asked, "What happened here today?"She again smiled and answered,
"You know everyday when you come home from work and ask me what I did today?""Yes," was his reply.
She answered, "Well, today I didn't do it!"

The story is a broad and amusing (to me) demonstration of my life and magic, my life of magic. There is little drama, no fanfare and certainly, no fame. I don't shoot fireballs out of my wand as if it were a roman candle, and I don't make claims to know or do more than I can back up. What I do is often not noticed until I don't do it, whether it is the strengthening of the wards, doing a healing, cooking a meal, seeing a client, doing herbal work, charging an amulet or nurturing my spouse or my daughters. As I do more, I find that I say less (DH may disagree!), which certainly puts me at odds with the common culture. I am not likely to leave a permanent mark on society, neither writing books, teaching students nor organizing public events. I suppose there is the slight chance of entering into and becoming part of the local mythology-and with that, I will have to be content. Content is fine. I am good at content.

With the coming of the New Moon on Friday (East Coast) and with Mercury no longer retrograde, I have several projects to start, and projects to go back to. I will be making incense sticks, and starting an amulet project for someone. There are several very patient people waiting for mail from me. Much of my "regular" life that was put down in December (MIL visit, my trip to New Orleans, Chanukah, Christmas, the Swine Flu, New Years) is being picked up again. Life is good. You think that doesn't involve some major mojo?

The Importance of Knowing, Not thinking that you Know; Or How to Raise the Morale of Our Vets

2010-01-13T22:36:00.002-05:00

As some of you may know, my daughter and I go to belly dance classes together. Our teacher leads a dance troupe that is a not for profit charity, raising money for the local food bank and for a woman's shelter. The troupe also dances for audiences that don't have much opportunity for entertainment, such as nursing homes, physical rehab centers and veteran's centers. Last weekend, the troupe did a show at a home for disabled Vets.

As Sherri was dancing around the room, one of the men in a wheelchair spoke to her. She thought he said "can we keep in touch?" Which, she said later, was a sadly frequent request at some of these shows. The music was loud, so Sherri leaned forward to ask him his name. Turns out, he hadn't asked what she thought he had.

He had asked "Can I touch?"

And since Sherri responded by leaning forward and toward him...

He did.

dreams

2009-12-26T11:45:00.003-05:00

3 dreams clearly remembered, but I do not remember the order in which I experienced them.

With a huge rake, reminiscent of a 19th century pastoral painting, I am raking up a harvest of green beans? squash? (the imagery isn't clear) from the side of my garden. As I rake, I see mice, tiny and curled up and sleeping under and among the vegetables. It doesn't appear that they have done the vegetables any harm and as I rake, they wake up and run off.

Leaving a school building where I had no business being a student, apparently it being a (very media image, castle like) school of magic. As I walk away from the building, I am knifed, from throat to stomach by one of the students, and while seriously weakened, I do not die. He, who attacked me, though, takes poison and collapses, dying in my lap. This person was someone whom I had attended junior high school and high school with.

A dream of Abraham, Sarah, Isaac and Rachel, most likely inspired by R. Crumbs "Illustrated Book of Genesis," which I received as a gift yesterday. In the dream, I am both Rachel and an omniscient viewer. Sarah and Rachel are urging Abraham and Isaac away from something/someplace, but Abraham and Isaac are reluctant. The women are also concerned because Abraham is senile and physically weak. None the less, the women cannot leave him behind. He is concerned with walls, and when encouraged by Rachel that there will be safe walls where they are going, he stops to play with rocks in the roadway.

addendum

2009-12-25T12:54:00.001-05:00

It appears that the "obnoxious, but not flu" virus is, infact the H1N1 flu virus. Happy, happy.

So what do I do about Christmas?

2009-12-23T20:45:00.003-05:00

Note: This post is entirely my venting and working out some issues. If you have a low tolerance for TMI, feel free to not read it.

Chanukah (todays spelling) is over less than a week. I sat with the Fire and the Dark on the Solstice just 2 nights ago. My older daughter took her final final for the semester today. My younger daughter is just getting over some really obnoxious, but not flu, virus. DH seems to have now come down with said obnoxious not-flu and stayed home from work, to drink tea and rest. So what did I do today?

I wrapped and labeled presents (and fretted over the ones that have not yet arrived). I wrote out the menu for the Christmas dinner for Friday, with the steps needed for each dish, so I would know what order and how far from eating time each step should be started. I cleaned. I did some of the cooking. I braved the supermarket and the liqueur store. I figured out the baking schedule. What we will eat the morning of, and what we will eat the night before (the night before will most likely be pizza).

Why? The holiday means nothing to me. I am hereditarily and culturally Jewish. So, how did this come to pass?

Because I wanted to see my husband smile.

When you are young and not really settled, the holidays belong to the parents. Because my family is Jewish and DH's is various flavors of Christian, dividing the holidays between the families was never a problem (well, Thanksgiving was an issue, but we worked it out). Christmas and Easter with his mother, Passover and Chanukah with my father. We just needed to show up (hmm, it was always more complicated than that, this is the approved sepia toned memory...). Then DH, new at a job, had to work both the day of Christmas Eve and Christmas day, leaving no opportunity for us to make the 2 hour drive to his mothers house. He was upset. His mother, trying to console him and make him feel better (I will believe that, I will believe that), didn't exactly choose the best phrases and managed to make DH feel even worse.

I decided that I would make Christmas for him. I ordered a tree. Yes, you read that correctly. Knowing absolutely nothing about any of this, I called the local florist and ordered a Christmas tree to be delivered. With a stand. Up three flights of turning staircases in an old Victorian house. I should have tipped that kid enough to pay for his college education. I ran out to the local drugstore and bought whatever ornaments they had on clearance (by this point, it was late afternoon on Christmas eve). And I threaded and hung the ornaments with sewing thread. I put my present for him under the tree, and I waited for him to come home from work.

When he finally did come home and saw the tree, he was struck speechless (those of you who know DH can understand how surprised he was, for those of you who don't know him, take my word on it, being struck speechless probably happens to him once a century or so). It really made him happy. So the whole project made me happy, too. And while DH was at work on Christmas day, my father and I created an English Victorian feast, by using the book "A Christmas Carol" as our template. When DH got home, we ate and drank and celebrated (he and I, my father and his current girlfriend) for hours. It was truly an amazing meal and an amazing evening.

I didn't realize that a one time event would become tradition.

I am no longer responsible for getting the tree (Thank the Gods!). But somehow, over the years the responsibility for gifts has become mine. The gifts for his mother and brother and brother's family. The gifts from his mother to him, our daughters, and to me. Gifts to our daughters from us. From me, to him. I did manage to draw the line at buying myself a gift from DH. The cooking, the baking, the planning is mine to do.

I am very tempted not to. (except that it is too late to not do it, this year.)

What stops me? Two things; once, when the girls were little around ages 2 and 5, I decided that having a garden was just more than I could handle that year. So for the first time since we bought the house, I didn't buy garden seeds or seedlings and I didn't garden. I didn't notice any free time. I did feel a hole in my life for more than a season, though. I didn't miss doing the work (for those of you without children, having a 2 year old and a 5 year old is more work than 1 person should handle anyway), I missed having the garden. I missed it enough that I welcomed the work the next year, and every year since. Will I miss the "event" of our household holiday, even as I don't miss the work that it entails? (even if, as with gardens all the work in the world can't guarantee success and happiness?)

The second thing that stops me is the memory of my husband, speechless with surprise and pleasure.

The presents are ordered, mostly here (still waiting for one item that I didn't realize needed to come from India) wrapped and labeled. The food and drink purchased and somewhat prepped. Dining room returned to its designated use from sewing/craft room. I am exhausted and cranky.

I can't expect surprise, but pleasure and happiness would be appreciated (and so would appreciation).

Blessed Solstice and Return of the Light

2009-12-21T15:45:00.002-05:00

What is the Solstice? Astronomically (and in this case, also astrologically), it is the moment when the sun enters the constellation and sign of Capricorn, the furthest south on its journey. (yes, yes, I know, the sun doesn't move, it is a question of appearing to move. Excuse me, while I put the earth and its inhabitants in the center of creation for a moment). The solstice marks the shortest day (in the northern hemisphere), and therefor, the longest night. This year, for the East Coast of the United States, the moment of Solstice was at 12:48 pm. Pretty much right in the middle of the day. As a result, the nights on either side were of the same length; 14 hour and 47 minutes from sunset to sunrise.

Thinking it through, I decided that it made more sense to celebrate the maximum dark and encourage the return of light and warmth on the second of the two long nights; it is only after the second one that the days will begin their increase. But that also means a Monday night, a weeknight, a work night, and since the Solstice is one of several holidays observed, a busy time indeed. I am a firm believer in observing the astronomically based holidays at the right time, not when it is convenient, so Monday night it is.

I came home from a morning appointment with a client and swept out the fireplace and hearth. Laid in the logs for a good fire, and set matches and "help" near at hand. At the center of the grate, I place the charcoal that had been left from last years Solstice fire. I filled the wood box on the porch. Then I spent the next hour or so getting other responsibilities and chores out of the way, so when night falls, I won't be busy and distracted.

At the moment of the Solstice (Verizon time), I lit the fire. It has been blazing merrily for more than three hours, and the sun has begun to set. I will have time to go out to the woodpile once more before it gets dark, but there is plenty of wood stacked on the porch. Sitting by the fire with the long dark outside, I will contemplate, think upon and remember all those who came before me. All those who set fires and lit candles and created beacons in the dark and cold, so that light and warmth could be found.

Love, and blessings to all of you. If you are without light and warmth, may my fire be as a beacon. And for those of you who have found your light, and source of warmth, may my fire help feed yours.

See you all on the light side!

I'm glad I am not a redwood

2009-12-16T22:04:00.005-05:00

The Wheel is turning constantly, but for the most part, we humans only notice the big moments. Tonight, I celebrated (for lack of any other term) the last New Moon before the winter Solstice. Going out into the Circle was not negotiable, but my apparel was! According to the local weather report, it was 24 degrees out, but with wind and lack of humidity, it felt more as if it were 14 degrees out. So never mind the ritual robe, even with the ritual long underwear. Tonight, it was polar fleece and down filled coat and boots. Even taking into consideration my casual attire, there are advantages to outdoor ritual on a sub-freezing dark winter night. No neighbors came to stand in doorways or on porches to see what I was up to, or to add light to my starry darkness.

It was intended to be a short ritual. I may take my oaths seriously, but I also take my health into consideration.

I said what needed to be said, did that which needed to be done. The experience and the result was remarkable, a reward (possibly) for not finding an excuse, for not sloughing off. We speak of seeds, sleeping in the earth at this time of year, awaiting the return of the sun and the warmth to sprout and grow. Sometimes we mean actual seeds, sometimes we are speaking metaphorically. Standing in the (wind chill factored in) 14 degrees, listening to and feeling the breeze and watching (and listening to) the stars, I was very cold and very awake-sleep did not seem possible. So it was shown to me.

As I stood there, the ground and the trees grew up and curved over me, until I was within a hollow ball of earth and soil and bits of tree. I was still standing upright, the way one carefully plants a flower bulb, so the correct part faces up, toward the surface of the earth and the sun. But I was within the soil. It was dark, no sky, no stars. And silent, the breeze could not be heard and the earth creatures were all sleeping. I felt supported, even as I was standing by the earth around me, cool but not cold, it must have been below the frost line. And because it was silent and dark and not so cold, I said "Yes, I see now, how this works." Once I said that, the closed space above me peeled open, like a flower bud beginning to bloom. The sky and the stars reappeared; the land flattened out and the trees reoriented themselves. I wasn't to experience the sleep and the awakening and the push and the growth of the seed, I was just being shown that small part that I had questioned.

There was a bit more, which for now I shall keep to myself. But I was very glad for a hot shower and a cup of tea when I came inside.

(about the post title-Redwoods and closed cone conifers need to be exposed to fire before they will germinate)

Winter is here

2009-12-05T22:45:00.003-05:00

It snowed today. For some reason, this took me by surprise. With errands to run, I had no choice but to clean off the car and relearn how to drive in the snow. And relearn a few other things. Such as; remember your gloves (not the nice ones, the waterproof ones!) and locate the snowbrush/scraper for the car before you are ready to leave. I wasn't the only one surprised by the snow, it seemed as if the road crews (town, county and state) were surprised, as well. The roads were barely plowed and there had been no spreading of sand. What should have been a series of three 15 minute errands stretched into 3 hours of white knuckle driving, while the sun set and it got dark. I didn't realize how stressed I was by the drive until I showered later on and realized that my legs were quivering from having them tensed the whole time.

And there is a perfect image for me for the year. I've gotten through this year of the reordering of my family and universe. I've mourned my Grandmother and accepted the changing of the familial responsibilities. I've made her belongings a home in my home, and have made them my own, in the process. But, just as the driving today was bad enough, but do-able, but then made worse by nightfall, new, small and possibly expected events kept testing my abilities.

After 27 years of holding on to my mothers jewelry (he kept it all in her jewelry box, in a drawer in his dresser), this Thanksgiving, my father decided it was time for me and my sister to have it. Shall we say that is created a new psychological and emotional workload? The week after Thanksgiving, my mother in law came up from Florida for a visit. While I knew that I would do the lions share of entertaining her, DH's work schedule was such that he saw very little of her. And, as a further test of my abilities (patience, empathy, grounding and centering, translating...) we found that my mother in law was without a legal drivers license. So now I can add chauffeur to my list of skills.

All Work (Great or lesser) is personal, whether you are aware of it or not. This year, there was no way to avoid that knowledge.

There is a great deal that I am looking forward to writing about-I've written little to nothing about actual magic is a very long time. But first, I am going to New Orleans for a week. Maybe I will write about that first.

15 degrees scorpio and a family story

2009-11-06T23:14:00.002-05:00

Between the fact that it is now the Cross Quarter and I've spent some time remembering my beloved dead, and Jasons blog post: http://strategicsorcery.blogspot.com/2009/11/religion-is-not-about-belief.html I thought I would tell this story-it is one of my favorites.

Some time ago, my Grandmother went to visit her mother. My Grandmother was in her 50's at the time, which meant that my Great Grandmother was in her late 70's or early 80's (My Great-Grandparents stayed in their own house until they were in their mid 90's). My Great-Grandmother was on her hands and knees, in the kitchen, scrubbing the floor.

My Grandmother exclaimed "Ma! What are you doing?"

My Great-Grandmother: "Tomorrow is Yontif, I'm cleaning." (yontif is yiddish for holyday)

My Grandmother: "But, Ma! You don't believe!"

My Great-Grandmother: "What has that got to do with it?"

The Lady of the Beasts

2009-11-03T09:54:00.004-05:00

Setting: The Circle. Full Moon, in the November chill, just past the change of the clocks back from daylight savings time.

Cast (earthly): Me and a very strong sense and knowledge of all the small critters around me, in den, burrow and nest.

Action: The Moon rituals are a blend of set ritual words and actions that bracket and set the space for inspired (or improvised) events. While admitting to my very human mindset, I try hard to clear myself of pre-conceived issues or subjects to "work on" before I go out for this ritual. When this works, it is amazing. When it doesn't work, I console myself with the thought that the next ritual is 2 weeks away and I will be able to try again.

(Last night was cold and I bundled myself in many layers. I fear being cold far more than I fear being over warm. But working with candles and incense, I could not wear gloves. Somehow, I was not aware of my hands being cold until the very end, as I was putting the candles out. I suspect that through constant use the tree circle itself has become a powerful gateway between worlds.)

I lit the candles in the quarters, and drew the circle, greeting the spirits that dwell in each quarter as I came to them. Mostly the words are ritualized, but sometimes phrases slip in that I don't expect. I try hard to remember them for later. Incense is lit. I state my existence and my Greeting. On nights such as last night, the sense of being Elsewhere is very strong, even as I can look around and see my trees, hear my neighbors pond and fountain, see the outlines of the houses (and the always on porchlights of the neighbor across the street-at least always on when I am in the circle). This is when I feel that I am at the very spindle of all of creation. This is when, should it happen at all, Inspiration comes.

The words last night were for the small predators, the foxes, the bobcats, the small snakes (yes, I've been dreaming of them again) and small raptors. The large predators (man, bear, coyote, and occasional cougar) have their watchers, and the prey have the numbers. There was power, and strength flowing in the message, flowing through me, but toward what end?

I've no idea how long I stood arms upraised, before sweeping them in full circle, first one way, then the other (a motion that had not been part of any previous ritual), it felt like years, it felt like seconds. But since the stick of incense that had been lit last was just beginning to burn out, it could not have been more than 20 minutes. But with the sweeping motion, the Message was finished, and it was time to return to the "script."

It wasn't until I had returned, stepped through the gates and started putting out the candles that I realized that there was now frost on the grass and just how cold my hands were. The Cross Quarter won't be until this coming weekend, but winter is approaching.

Bat Cookies 2

2009-10-29T22:06:00.003-04:00

Yes, it is the time of the bat cookies!

(I am really ready for life to slow down, in fact, if my life would slow down to the speed that this computer has been hitting lately, I'd be pretty happy. But then everyone around me would be as frustrated with me as I am with this computer.)

But the traditional bat cookies have been baked. Some will go to school with my daughter. Some will go to the after trick or treating block party. Some might even get eaten here.

Tomorrow, if the Gods are kind, and it actually isn't raining, I will decorate the outside of the house for Halloween. Which pretty much means that I will take the skeleton arms decorations my brother in law bought for me and use them to block off the walk to the front door, so that the trick or treaters will know to come to the kitchen door. Any other decorating will want until sundown on the 31st and will consist of lighting candles.

That's it. Just candles on the porch. Some in glass pillars, and some in the Jack O'Lanterns. In a world of plastic gravestones and blow-up pumpkins and animatronic witches and strings of orange lights, it is amazing just how frightened some children can get of a house with a few candles. But then, as one mother said last year, we are the witch house.

In and Out of Dreams

2009-10-20T13:41:00.001-04:00

I know the Mac Nac Feegles can do it. Can others?

I had a dream last night about my camera. It was trapped in the computer and crying.

You will just have to take my word for it, but I've been busy.

2009-10-16T21:30:00.006-04:00

About a year ago, maybe a little longer, my pizza cutter went missing. We had pizza for dinner, and I went to the drawer where I keep my cutting tools, and the pizza wheel wasn't there. Over the next week, I searched for it everywhere, figuring that it had just gotten put away in the wrong place. Finally, I decided that it must have gotten left in a pizza delivery box and had gotten thrown away by accident. I never got around to buying another pizza cutter.

Three weeks ago was the start of the season for the variety of apples that I like best for making pies (Greenings, for those who are curious). I went to our local apple farm (the one that grows the heirloom varieties) and brought home a 1/2 bushel of fruit to make into pies. Getting ready to bake, I reached into the drawer where I keep my cutting tools for my "approved by the Amish" apple peeler/corer device. Which was not in the drawer. This is a huge and bulky rotary tool, with a handle that gets stuck every time you open and close the drawer. It was there every time I looked for the pizza cutter, or reached for a knife. It wasn't there now. The pizza cutter was.

I came to the conclusion that we have pictses, or faeries, or borrowers. I haven't actually seen them, so I don't know which. But I guessed they were tired of pizza and wanted some fresh fruit. I used a knife to prepare the apples for the pies. Since I have some truly lovely knives, it wasn't that great a hardship.

But now, they've taken my camera! This is simply not acceptable. And this is why I have no pictures of my projects to accompany this post. Any suggestions on how to ransom my camera back would be appreciated.

I've actually gotten a lot done in the last few days. The most recent batch of incense is finished and packed. I love the scent of saffron. It is rich and heady and intoxicating. I don't use the last word lightly. According to Christian Ratsch in the Encyclopedia of Psychoactive Plants;

in low dosages, it excites, cheers, and produces laughter ... The psychoactive effects of saffron have been occasionally described as "spasms of laughter" and "delirium" (Vonarburg 1995, 76); "in its effects, saffron comes close to opium."

Culpeper extols saffron for use in "hysteric depressions" but warns;

However, the use of it ought to be moderate and reasonable; for when the dose is too large, it produces a heaviness of the head and sleepiness; some have fallen into an immoderate convulsive laughter, which ended in death.

I cannot imagine how much saffron one must ingest or inhale for such an effect!

Tonight, I also started work on the last tincture of my planetary tincture project. Rose, for Venus in Libra. The roses were homegrown and dried. Since I used no fixative while drying them, they lost nearly all of their color. But when I started crushing the petals, the scent was true and strong, sweet and amazing. When I added the Everclear to the jar, there was almost no color transfer to the liquid. Almost. The liquid did take on the barest tinge of gold and seemed to magnify the rose petals beyond what I would have expected from the refraction of glass and liquid. I am thinking that this is going to be a wonderful finish to the project. I will know in a month or two.

What else, what else?

Baked bread (challah) and started some rye bread (that is a two day project all by itself). Read a novel (Terry Pratchetts "Unseen Academicals"), made a skirt. All in the last two days, all in addition to all the other stuff that somehow gets done.

I may borrow a camera to take pictures of the skirt.

(If you are interested in the saffron incense, and you didn't arrive here via Mrs. B.'s blog, click on the 31 Days of Halloween button. On Saturday October 17, a tube of my incense will be among the giveaways you can try to win. If you did arrive via Mrs. B., Welcome!)

So This Is How Sleeping Beauty Felt

2009-10-09T20:46:00.005-04:00

This weekend I woke up. I mean, I really woke up. It wasn't until I realized just how awake I was that I realized how "unawake" I had been for the previous 3 months. Everything had felt very airy and diffuse, and in conversation with another blogger we both agreed that it had been a bad summer for concentrating.

Summer has never really been my favorite season, but without a "true" summer this year, here in NW New Jersey, something in my interior didn't get what it needed. Call it basking like a lizard. Or dozing in the sun. There were none of those afternoons of feeling my edges and perimeters melt into the surrounding atmosphere as I lay still in the grass, eyes closed, breathing slowed, while absorbing and being absorbed by the greater existence.

And then, there was the moon tincture. Certainly a sense of sleepwalking and dream state could have come from that project. And that would also explain why those times that I did feel fully awake and participating in my existence happened while at the Renaissance Faire, in garb and in my "rennfaire" persona. Dream world, dream persona, dream existence, a total Luna experience.

As I mentioned in a previous blogpost, I got the day of this Full Moon wrong. I went out the next night, that of the actual Full Moon. Rain or shine, I go out for a moon ritual ever Full and every Dark/New Moon, no excuses. All though 2009, the weather has been variable for the Dark/New Moons. Some months the sky is clear and the stars dizzying in their plenitude. And sometimes the weather has been overcast, or rainy, or snowy. But dark is dark.

Since January, the Full Moon has been dark, too (DH, when telling you about this, I mentioned March, I went back over my notes tonight). The weather has been cloudy or rainy every single month on the night of the Full Moon this year-until this one. Not only did I know She was there, I was able to bathe in her visible light, and I came inside, afterwards, floating, totally conscious and feeling recovered from the cold that I had been suffering from. (10 minutes after I came inside, there was a clap of thunder and the rains came pouring down, but that was afterwards).

This is where the awakening started.

It is autumn, the start of the year. We have had Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. We have had the Autumnal Equinox, that moment of balance, before the spiraling inward, before the thinning of the Vail. I have finally danced in the moonlight. We went "college shopping" with our daughter, so that the next period of her life can start. Next week, we have the unveiling of my grandmothers tombstone, marking the official end of the mourning period.

The funny thing about sleepwalking is that the sleepwalker isn't aware that that is what she is doing. And now that I am awake, I look around my house and marvel at how much it resembles a home abandoned, and how much my yard looks like it has been covered with 100 years of protective brambles. There are several overdue projects that I must finish. But now I feel as if I can deal with the house, deal with the gardens, finish my projects. Even more importantly, start new projects. There is a line in "Wee Free Men" about opening your eyes, and then opening them again. You can't live like that all the time, but you can try to remember what it feels like. Awakeness happens, life commences.

Things that make you go "Duh"

2009-10-02T21:48:00.003-04:00

I am sick. It is just "one of those things going around." My daughter has been home from school for two days, with it, and I starting feeling the symptoms mid morning, today. Manageable symptoms, mind you-headache, tiredness, the slightest of fevers and a propensity toward dizziness when turning my head and changing its altitude at the same time.

My internal clock/calendar must be off, too. I've been convinced all day that tonight is the Full Moon and the start of Sukkot. I have my lulav and my esrog, the four species (all female!) that I use for this moons ritual. All day I wondered; Will I go out into the circle? Should I go out into the Circle? The weather isn't good (more like the end of November than the beginning of October) and I am really not feeling well, and there is the lightning fast trip to Boston this weekend (to look at colleges with our daughter) to think about.

Shall I go out to dance and celebrate and worship? How could I not? OK, I will, but just for a few minutes, I will fulfill my vow. I will explain. Well, maybe I'll go out for more than just a few minutes, otherwise, why go out, and I can't not go out...

Ever have a big build up to a sneeze, but then not sneeze? Or experience the build up to an orgasm that doesn't quite happen?

I came back in the house wondering why the ritual felt like a dress rehearsal-an almost, but not quite...and then I looked at the calendar (conveniently posted on the refrigerator-opposite the door). Full Moon and Sukkot are tomorrow night.

I am left with a lesson and a question to ponder. The lesson-always look at the calendar, especially if your head doesn't feel right. That's why I write everything down, anyway. And the question-was the "almost, but not quite/dress rehearsal" sensation because somewhere inside of me I knew that I was a day off? Or because I was a day off?

And the subject is...Books

2009-09-02T18:42:00.006-04:00

Anne Johnson, blogger extraordinaire at The Gods Are Bored, has just started teaching English in an, ahem, less than well funded city high school. The readers of Practically Magic, the writer of Practically Magic, and very nearly everyone I know, reads, memorizes, writes, scribbles in, lives with, hell, goes to bed with books. Anne has walked into a classroom that is nearly devoid of books, especially those that might appeal to boys (RO, sweetie, this is one time that the claim of sexism just won't hold-how many teenage boys do you know that will willingly read the "Sweet Valley High" series?).

You can read Anne's post here: http://godsrbored.blogspot.com/2009/09/ick.html
If you can contribute something to her classroom, please do so. And, if you are so inclined, ask an English teacher or two in a school local to you, you might be surprised (and horrified) at what the classrooms are lacking.

Blood

2009-08-21T11:49:00.002-04:00

(artwork by the amazing Thalia Took.)

Blood is life's river (phrase borrowed). Blood is the remains of the primordial seas of this planet, the salinity that washed through the porous-membraned cells of those first living entities floating through those seas. Blood contains life and the memory of life. It can be given freely, taken violently, sweated out (metaphorically or in actuality).

I love this image. Right now, it has the place of honor on my desk, so that it is always visible.

But I was reminded last night, that men don't seem to have the same relationship with blood that women seem to.

The Seasons and their Correspondences, thus far

2009-08-12T23:26:00.006-04:00

I've always felt that spring was both earthy and male and while I can't say I've been aware of it before, this summer has definitely been a Season of Air. Staying grounded, feet firmly planted has been nearly impossible. My thoughts and emotions had had all the staying power of Will O' Wisps. Highly annoying, and exhausting, too.
When I go outside in the evenings, fireflies dance before me. Birds have become my near constant companions. There are times when it feels as if I've entered an Alfred Hitchcock movie and sometimes I feel more like Cinderella, just waiting for the birds and other wild animals to come and do my household chores for me. These pictures were all taken while sitting here at my desk. The sparrows perch on the window screens and chirp and look at me before flying back to the lilac bushes, but the cardinals do not like to get so close and stay in the lilacs and rose bushes.
In some ways, I wonder if this airyness, this non-groundedness is part of the longer term grieving for my Grandmother. Her house is now sold, there is no place to go back to. I had thought that there might be relief (and there was some), that with my Grandmother gone, I would no longer be the "Oldest Daughter of Saint Irene, the Perfect One." Some years ago, after I had pointed out what a difficult role that was, my Grandmother no longer referred to my mother with those words, at least in my presence, but they were implied right to my Grandmothers last breath. (well, she never used the word "Saint" but she did use the word "perfect" frequently).
All those among the living who remember my mother, remember her in more round and more human ways, so this burden should have been lifted. But with the death of the person who saw me as the "Oldest Daughter of Saint Irene, the Perfect One" I also lost the person who saw me as a reflection of that perfection. A pale and imperfect reflection, of course, but a reflection, none the less.
Those of you who know me from more than one place may have noticed that there are no pictures of me anywhere. With the exception of those "can't get out of it" pictures, there are almost no photographs of me anywhere at all. Historically, this has never bothered me. All pictures ever did would be to show me what I was not. I was not blond and blue eyed (as was my mother), tall (well, taller), stunning and confident. Not having a visual record was easier. But now, in the middle of the night, when normal people are tossing and turning and not sleeping for worry about bills and the economy and politics, I lay in bed and wonder "Do I actually exist?"
So what might the messages from the birds be?

Sparrow: It reflects self-worth. If Sparrow has entered your life, ask
yourself if you know your own self-worth. It was considered the
symbol of friendly household spirits, and a pet to
Aphrodite.

Cardinal: is a reminder to add “color” to our life
and to remember that everything you do is important. Cardinals stress
recognizing your own importance. The very color of the bird is that
of life's blood. (more or less)
The learning never ends.

Not so much hmmm as urrrggg!

2009-08-12T18:41:00.003-04:00

When trying to learn a new anything, one of the best things to do is practice, practice, practice. I am trying to learn a new (to me) method of divination and am scrambling to come up questions. (I am a big "I'll take life as it comes along kind of person" I couldn't even come up with a question for the palm reader I visited, when I was last in New Orleans.)

I have been frustrated lately about my blogging. It isn't that I don't have things to say, it just seems that I rarely have time to concentrate on crafting my thoughts into well thought out (or at least coherently thought out) statements, sentences, paragraphs. Rather than being a relaxing summer, it has been hectic, with my time both busy and fragmented by the demands of my life. Often, it feels as if, by the time I've hashed out my thoughts, and put them in order, the time for the subject has passed, the conversation has moved on, and any contribution I might have made has been made, and credited to others.

I came up with a series of questions with which to practice my divinations, using one question per day:
What would be the result of my setting aside a specific hour each day to write?
What would be the result of my setting aside a specific time, duration of less than an hour to write?
What would be the result of my setting aside a specific time, duration of more than an hour to write?

The results for each one of these questions were unmitigatedly bleak. For a couple of days, I stayed off the subject when doing my divinations, and the results of those questions were not so dark, nor consistent.

I tried a different tack. "What would be the result of my giving up any attempt to write?" Again, according to the reading, giving up any attempt to write would be, at best, foolish, and at worst, a really really bad idea.

"What would be the result of my continuing to attempt to write?" Middling positive to positive.

Is this to be a lesson in dealing with frustration? Don't give up on something, but do not give it any time, either? Or perhaps there is something else going on, that I haven't quite caught yet?

The Sun! The Sun!

2009-07-31T20:38:00.000-04:00

Sun in Leo, on Sunday, July 26th, at 2:15 pm, Sun hour. It had been gray and damp and rainy all day (week? summer?), but as I started collecting my tools and ingredients, the sun came out. After I gathered everything I needed, I went outside, into my circle and just tried to absorb the sun. I stood there, feeling it fill me, until my vision went red, then orange, then yellow, and it was coming from me, out, as well as from above.

This tincture is made with dried orange peel, from oranges that we had eaten last winter, after the solstice. The oranges were washed before we peeled them, and then I removed the pith and set the peels out to dry. Once they were dry, I sealed them in a canning jar until I was ready for this project. When I put the peels in the mortar, they were dry enough to snap and break, but they were still full of oil. Rather than grinding them, I had to pound them, hence the large granite mortar, rather than one of the smaller ones. The smell was amazing, full of heat and sunshine.

This is the tincture, after adding the Everclear and then agitating the jar. Unlike several of the other tinctures (Mercury, Saturn, Jupiter) this one did not change color immediately.

I didn't look forward to starting this with much enthusiasm. I think that I was feeling a bit put off still by the feel of the Lunar tincture, which at the New Moon on July 21st was still very "Don't Touch." I was wondering; was it just the nature of the Lunar Tincture? The herb I chose to use? The fact that the herb came from my Mother in Laws garden and had been picked by her for me? (yes, that last thought garnered me a strange look from DH) Now, I think that it was a combination of things, the nature of the tincture and the fact that this most recent New Moon was ALSO a Cancer Moon, just as the Moon was, when I started it. To everything there is a season, right? Things seem a bit cozier with both Sun and Moon tinctures going through their cohabitation phases next to one another...

On the subject of tools

2009-07-30T21:23:00.003-04:00

She stared at Tiffany's hopeful face and sighed.

"Come outside then," she said. "I'll give you lesson one. It's the only lesson there is. It don't need writing down in no book with eyes on it."

She led the way to the well in her back garden, looked around on the ground
and picked up a stick.

"Magic wand," she said. "See?" A green flame leaped out of it, making Tiffany jump. "Now you try."

It didn't work for Tiffany, no matter how much she shook it.

"Of course not," said Granny. "It's a stick. Now, maybe I made a flame come out of it, or maybe I made you think one did. That doesn't matter. It was me is what
I'm sayin', not the stick. Get your mind right and you can make a stick
your magic wand and the sky your hat and a puddle your magic...your magic...er,
what're them fancy cups called?"

"Goblet," said Tiffany.

From "A Hat Full of Sky" by Terry Pratchett

A Request

2009-07-21T15:55:00.002-04:00

If you are a reader of my blog, and have a blog of your own, I would very much like to read it, and get to know you, my readers, better. If your blog requires an invitation, and you would be willing to let me in, please email an invitation to:

lavanah.c AT Gmail DOT com

(as the Pagan Soccer Mom would say "take that, you web spiders!")

Thank you!

2009-07-17T19:50:00.000-04:00

THIS PAGE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK.

Full Moon/Eclipse

2009-07-08T00:03:00.003-04:00

A couple of pictures taken tonight, as I set up, and before the rain. (I love the way the trees in the background look) While the moon wasn't visible, I did have plenty of lightening and lightening bugs, which made the ritual feel "sisterly." It is evenings such as this, that makes me glad that I don't use a lot of tools and equipment for this type of ritual-halfway through, it started to pour. My basket that carries what I do use went under some shelter, and I finished what I was doing. At least I didn't need to worry about whether I had sufficiently snuffed the candles.

An Old Post, from an Older Blog

2009-07-01T21:12:00.003-04:00

(this had been posted on my old Yahoo 360 blog, soon to be defunct.)

Subject: The Temperature of Hell

The following is an actual question given on a University of Liverpool chemistry final exam.

The answer by one student was so "profound" that the professor shared it with colleagues via the Internet, which is why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well.

Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?

Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law that gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed or some variant.

One student, however, wrote the following: First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving.

As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Most of these religions state that, if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell.

Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially.

Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell. Because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay constant, the volume of Hell must expand proportionately as souls are added.

This gives two possibilities:
1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.

2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.

So which is it?

If we accept the postulate given to me by Sandra during my freshman year, that "it will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you," and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number 2 must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is endothermic and has already frozen over.

The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is extinct...leaving only Heaven, thereby proving the existence of a divine being - which explains why, last night, Sandra kept shouting "Oh my God."

THIS STUDENT RECEIVED THE ONLY "A".

Chatty Planets

2009-06-29T20:43:00.004-04:00

Last week saw the Solstice, Fathers Day and the New Moon, and while the Solstice might be Mid-Summer in the Celtic lands on the other side of the Atlantic, here in the North East of the United States, it is the start of the summer season. Life is slowing down, even as it is burgeoning. The summer gardens are delayed, because of all the cool weather and rain we've had, but the lavender is busy with bees, and nearly ready for harvest.

The week also saw completion in the making of the Mercury tincture. The salts were intensely fine grained, like sanding sugar and had no apparent pattern in the pan where they were formed. They scraped into a fine powder, without adhering to the glass, and were moved easily (eagerly?) into the menstruum. This Wednesday I will use the tincture for the first time. Four completed, three to go.

The Mars tincture had (and has) an amazing "You need Me" sense to it. The Mercury tincture has been very communicative almost from the moment it was first jarred. It told me when any step was finished and it was time to move on. Monday night, after the New Moon in Cancer, during the Lunar hour, I started work on the Moon tincture. Camphor. And again, I got a very clear message. This one was: Don't Touch Me.

Saps and distillates from Camphor can be poisonous, but I am working with the leaves. It was the leaves that were basically saying "hands off." They did not want to be ground, or mashed or torn or cut up, but once I acquiesced and started placing the whole leaves in the jar, the atmosphere lightened somewhat. I suspect at this point, that this will be a tincture of Artemis (and not She of Ephesus), of Circe, of Medea, rather than any of the more "generous" full Moon deities. Time will tell.

So, strong messages from Moon, Mars and Mercury, but not from Jupiter or Saturn. My first thought with Mars was that I really needed the Mars energy to balance out my sphere. And then, well, what else could you expect from the planet of the Messenger but conversation? I supposed it could be argued that I have been working with the Moon for so long, that Of Course, She would come through loud and clear. But when you add all that to the lack of any specific message from either Jupiter or Saturn, I think something else comes into play. The further out planets, and their specific energies just do not relate as easily to day to day humanity. Bigger, further away and slower (from our point of view) our issues just may not be seen in the same way to their spirits as the spirits of the planets that we are more intimate with.

On the other hand, it is possible that as I go along, I just get better at what I am doing. That with each tincture, I find it easier to attune myself earlier in the project. It that is the case, then the Venus project should prove very interesting indeed.

Why I love my fellow Jewitches

2009-06-26T22:43:00.002-04:00

Since the beginning of the year, I have been resigning from various Yahoo discussion groups. Before doing so, I post on each group that I am leaving; not because I am unhappy with the group, or any of its members (if that is actually the case), but because it has come to that point in my life, when I no longer wish to deal with Yahoo. In case any members of those groups wish to stay in contact with me, I leave contact information and I have been pleased, and my ego stroked, by the number of people who showed interest in maintaining contact.

Only members of the Jewitchery group (and you know who you are, you wonderful people) have contacted me off list to ask if I were taking a moral stand against some position or behaviour of Yahoo, and if so, what is it?

This is one group of people who are making it difficult to leave Yahoo behind!

Fast! Salad!

2009-06-18T21:31:00.004-04:00

(repeat refrain) With each tincture, I am amazed at how different each one is from the others and how they each reflect the planetary powers of which they partake. (end refrain)

So the words for Mercury seem to be fast and salad.

Fast makes sense. The planet moves quickly. Hermes/Mercury is the Divine Messenger, it wouldn't do for him to dawdle. This tincture was quick work (well, its still quick work, not being entirely done). The herb is home grown oregano, carefully harvested and dried for this specific purpose. It pulverized easily in the granite mortar, in fact, I had to be careful to not grind it into a powder. Upon pouring the Everclear over it, it was bleached of its color almost entirely. Jar sealed, wrapped in foil and labeled, it "talked" to me, reminding me of its presence several times a day. Unlike the previous tinctures, I never felt the need to unwrap it to check fluid levels, I knew it was fine. I also knew that yesterday would be the day for calcinating-even before I saw the weather report. (it was the only day it hasn't rained this month). The oregano only macerated for 22 days, but it was ready. (for those wondering, from May 27 to June 17). The calcination was fast. The fumes from the alcohol caught the flame from the torch and the leaves burned to pale grey ash immediately. I only finished it up on the stove because the wind had some up and I was afraid of the ash blowing away. But it only took another 5 minutes on the stove top for the pale grey ash to turn white. The whole step of calcination took a total of 10 minutes. When the ash was cool, I mixed it with distilled water, filtered it and put it aside. Already, this morning, I could see little clouds of crystal floating in the dish.

Salad. That is what the liquid smells like, a green mixed salad. The menstruum is a deep blue-green and has the smell of a bowl of assorted lettuces. I'm still working this part out, but I think it may have more to do with Greek Hermes, than Roman Mercury. I've come across references to the "fluid sexuality" of Hermes, and for reasons, I am not sure of, the metaphor of the mixed salad seems "right" for that. As for the lettuce...we have here the power of (and over) commerce and trade, could it be as blunt as that? Lettuce, greenbacks, money? Or, is it more fluid (that word again)? We have the God of law and thieves, psychopomp and fluid (ok, now I am using the word just to make myself grin) sexuality. Lettuce has been used as both an aphrodisiac and an anaphrodisiac. Depending on the body chemistry of the person imbibing, the sap can be used as a mild sedative or a mild intoxicant. Swings both ways, as it were.

It may be that I will get more information when the tincture is ready for use. I hope so. I have to wait for the rest of the water to evaporate, leaving me the salts to return to the menstruum. Considering the speed of this project to this point, I suspect that it won't be long before I will be able to do so. Should be interesting.

T'is the Season

2009-06-08T21:32:00.005-04:00

I've noticed that life gets more hectic, the calendar more full, the to-do list longer, right before the solstices. Whether this is a direct result of the influence of the changing position of the earth in relation to the sun, and its effect on the human psyche, or a result or millennia of sun related holidays, and farming community school calendars, I can't say. I just know that life has been very busy and can see that it will slow dramatically in just a few weeks. Speaking as someone who tries to fully experience what my life contains, this ebb and flow is what keeps everything manageable. Speaking as someone who tries to keep a blog regularly updated, it can make life on line (or at least the updating) difficult.

In the last month, we moved our older daughter out of her college dorm. Although it only took 1 trip to move her in last September, moving her out took 2 days, and 2 trips. (It must be some law of physics unknown to me; each year, she moves into the dorm with less stuff than the year before, but then moves out with more.) The same day we were also expected at a birthday party and a graduation party.

The following weekend was that of the New Moon. DH and I were invited by an almost-neighbor to his Theodish New Moon rite. Since the New Moon was at (very conveniently!) 8:11am on Sunday, Joe was able to hold his rite on Saturday evening, and I was still able to observe mine on Sunday evening. So we spent Saturday night with an interesting crowd of Heathen and Pagan, talking before the ritual, and talking and passing the mead horn, afterwards. Sunday night, it was me, in the circle.

Mothers Day. End of School Year concerts. Time seems to telescope until you are faced with the question: tend to the outside, or tend to the inside? It is all very well to say "balance" but sometimes the need for balance needs to be...well, balanced against other needs.

This past weekend may have been the apex of this busy time, even though we still have 2 weeks to the solstice. It was the birthday weekend (DH's birthday is the day before mine). It was the weekend that a group that we belong to, did its group ritual. It was the weekend of the annual Reiki Master wine and cheese gathering. It was the Full Moon. It was a weekend (bleeding into the week) when DH and I had to plant and transplant 50 trees.

It was wonderful and fun, but exhausting.

Aren't those words used to describe the Winter Solstice Season?