and sometimes, it is my nature to complain.

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.

Midsummer, Lammas, First Harvest...

Bright and Shiny

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.

Disagreement?

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.

So what do I do about Christmas?

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

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!

Winter is here

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.

So This Is How Sleeping Beauty Felt

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.

The Seasons and their Correspondences, thus far

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.

Equinox and Spring

Interesting to think about-the Equinox is about balance, the even amount of light and dark. But it is also the entrance to a new season, in this case Spring. That isn't balance, that's forward motion. I have spent the last month trying to find my balance, to internalize the changes in my life. Now, I am ready for forward motion and action. The need for spring cleaning is strong. Not just housecleaning (although there is plenty of need for that!), but spring cleaning of me.

This past weekend, I had lunch with one of my blogging/Internet friends. I took a long drive on unfamiliar New Jersey highways (am I the only person in New Jersey who does not like to drive?) to have lunch with someone I had never met before. Potentially, the day could have been horrible. But it wasn't. Yes, I was on the road as long as I sat and chatted. Yes, prior to the drive, the idea of doing it scared the crap out of me, but that was one of the reasons that I did it. Lunch was lovely, we will do it again. And, I will make plans to meet and make real friendships out of my Internet relationships. Forward motion.

Its time to take my ritual outside and shake it like a rug to freshen it. Less time to sit and stare at a screen and more time for doing. Forward motion.

Once balance is dynamic and once achieved, if you don't do something with it, you have stasis.

Happy Spring (forward!) Anyone up for lunch?

First Snow

In a few months, I will need to be reminded of this. In a few months, I will be tired of the shoveling and the slush and the mud. But now, all is magic. My yard looks like the final scene in the first act of The Nutcracker, all sparkly snowflakes and sugar icing. Now, all is silent and still, but for the little birds eating the liatris seeds. The circle calls, waiting for a spiral of footprints to be danced into the snow. I hope you dance.

October 30th

We've had frost 2 nights in a row, now. One frost doesn't mean anything, but the second one will kill all the plants weakened by the first one. The morning glories and the moonflowers are done for the year. The tomato vines empty and blackening. But the squash! Perfect weather weather for harvesting the squash, and a good harvest this year, too. I brought in 10 large, ripe butternut squash. One, I left, it had been tasted by the deer, who (luckily for me) decided that it wasn't good deer food.
For the next several days, while it is still sunny and warm-ish in the afternoons, I will take the squash outside. Exposed to sun and air and temperate climate, they will develope nice hard shells that will allow them to overwinter. Except that I know that we will eat them far more quickly than that. It was lovely to bring in such a nice fall harvest, but still melancholy to eat the last garden tomato for the year.