Maybe there's hope yet.

 I'd do my thing where I note the lunar position and age, along with drought status and weather conditions but it's all out of sorts right now so that I can't quite do that today. It has been a rather trying day with two grumpy teenagers. While the heatwave has moderated some, the humidity remains and it has been randomly pouring. I am out of sorts because I had a migraine in the night last night so I get to have the post migraine fun of my brain being even more out of whack than usual. I sat staring at my daily journal going 'wut r werds?' for a solid thirty minutes this morning before taking a nap. It's a special experience that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.

All of that rambling aside, I wanted to share with you something that my youngest son said to his big brother. They were talking about the possibility of bullying in high school and his brother was getting pretty wound up. Next thing I know, I hear my youngest say "Thor told me something and I'm going to share it with you. If you see bullying you should stop, observe, and then act. It's something you should think about and maybe talk to Zeus about."

This is the first time my youngest son has said anything about any of the gods speaking to him. That good ol' fashioned practical advice is right out of Thor's playbook. My eldest son gave up speaking with Zeus after he was put through a lot of social pressure to not be practicing the religion he was. When I offered to teach him the finer points of witchcraft he said to me 'No thanks, that's not for me.' He's wandering and trying to figure out what he believes and wants no guidance from me. At the moment he is leaning towards a personalized variant of Christianity, one where he doesn't have to be baptized or go to communion. He just has to follow Jesus's rules to be a good person. We'll see where that goes over time.

My youngest, however, may want to follow the path of a heathen oriented witch. I admit I kinda hope at least one of my sons will. It hurt when my eldest said what he did. Especially after him spending his formative years in an active Zeus. A part of me hopes he will cycle back because Zeus hasn't forgotten him. I hate cultural Christianity with the fire of a thousand suns. It teaches the children of 'fringe' religions that their beliefs don't matter and that they're not good people unless they pay lip service to whatever version of the Christian god people around them are vocally expressing worship of.

As my eldest son explores Christianity, I do take time to point out things that are biblically accurate across multiple versions of the bible that he has ethical questions about and some major disagreements on it. I am trying to put  my theology education to work helping him suss out the parts of this religion he agrees with and the parts that he doesn't. He still thinks original sin is bullshit. Who knows where that is going to go as time goes on.

Their paths are not my own. Their dreams are not mine. And I have to accept that it is quite possible that they're going to move farther away from the things I taught them. Though the core elements will remain about being honorable, just, and kind.

Slogging through the last few weeks.

Waning Gibbous Blood Moon (Age: 17 Days)

Sign: Gemini

Weather: Windy, cool

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It has been difficult over the last few weeks. I've been struggling with feeling disconnected from everything. I found myself on the verge of despair. Then Loki and I had a conversation. It pretty much was like this:

Me: I feel like giving up right now.

Loki: No you don't.

Me: No, I'm pretty sure that's what I'm feeling right now.

Loki: No, you're exhausted. You're NOT giving up.

And then he gave me that harsh look that tends to have me stumbling over myself. Which then had me amending how I phrased things just so that I didn't test my luck too much. Because stern Loki is an experience and a half. This weird D/s thing between him and I just keeps going along and I find myself getting worried that it is all in my head.

Then something WTF happens and I discover that I really can't think up stuff as weird as what he does. Immediately after, I find myself thankful that he is favorably inclined towards me. Because I've seen a little bit of what happens to people who get on his bad side and it isn't pretty. At least in my case, he stops when I hit the very extreme edges of my limits. Granted, he is working on making those edges a bit farther out every time, but he respects my limitations. I don't think he does that for people he doesn't have any affection or a vested interest in. Just a gut feeling on that one.

The silence from Dea briefly stopped today. I was frustrated with the fact that I didn't have much work in my devotional journal. Then I felt her quiet presence. It wasn't anything dramatic. I just felt her here with me. But it lifted my spirits. It was reassuring to know that she was not done with me. I had missed her a great deal. I am hoping that there will be more interaction with her over the next few days.

As per the request of my ancestors, I poured out wine for the Hunt. I am not entirely sure why my ancestors wanted me to do that. But I did so. I also made a point to set aside a bit of dinner for my ancestors. I figured they'd want something more substantial than halloween candy. So, they got a bit of ham, sweet potatoes, and peas, as well as some wine. I'm hoping that on halloween proper, I will have some fresh baked bread to give them.

Letters to Loki #27 - WTF am I doing here?

Dear Sky-Treader,

I am looking at my present situation and wondering what I am supposed to be doing, how I got here, and what exactly is the plan moving forward. It now makes a little over two weeks that writing has been a struggle. I have been trying to work through waves of depression and its related physical issues (because having exhaustion on top of insomnia is absolutely fantastic, ya know.) but with limited success. I've hit a point that I just am spinning my wheels despite how much I want to do something more.

Beloved says the problem is my Bipolar acting up and the fact that this has always been a bad time of year for me. I feel like there's something more in the mix, because I don't think I was this off my feed until later in the season last year. It has me worried that I'm going to get a lot worse as time goes on. I'm quickly getting overwhelmed by the stuff I just need to do for the kids with school stuff. And that is making it harder for me to help them with school stuff.

I'll be perfectly honest, it is somewhat scary for me right now in dealing with all this. I know that these are very important years for their development and I want them to have all the opportunities to succeed that they can. I know they have difficulties of their own with the autism. I'm trying so hard to work with this thing and find how it could be an advantage, somehow. But I am having a lot of difficulty because it is so hard to communicate with them.

I feel like I'm failing them. I feel like my disability is getting in the way of being a good mother. And I am struggling with all of that past trauma that comes up this time of year. It is still pretty hard to get my head around the deaths of my paternal grandparents. I alternate between being angry and wanting to do everything to prove that i can. And being crushed, anxious, and just wanting to curl up in a ball somewhere and hide from the whole universe. It is exhausting to swing between those two states.

Please, help me figure out what I'm supposed to be doing with myself right now. It is pretty clear that my plans are not working. Help me figure out what I'm supposed to be doing to help my children. I know that there is something. I just can't figure it out. You're smarter than me. I know you'd have a perspective that I am missing on this puzzle. As I reach a point where things settle down, I will start writing those adult pieces you were talking about. I just can't manage to get myself organized enough to do it. But if you help me get this stuff sorted out, I can get back to doing that for you.

Broomclosets suck.

Waxing Egg/Pink Moon (Age: 12 Days)

Sign: Virgo

Weather: Clear skies, chilly

Snowpack: gone :)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It didn't hit me until a few days ago that I was making my way back into the broomcloset and not attending to my children's spiritual education because I was afraid. Now, one may ask what I am afraid of. When I was younger (foolhardy and feisty), I was public about my non-Christian status. I asked questions in an attempt to make sense of Christianity that, among other things, lead to my getting thrown out of a church. Protip: Don't ask the Catholic priest: how he can be sure that god is real when the bible is written by fallible human hands and people lie for power, thus how does he know his scripture is true? I was 12 at the time this happened. That peer who invited me to go to church with her stopped talking to me and her parents were down right frosty towards me after the incident. Go figure. Getting thrown out of a church was a very confusing experience for me because I thought that everybody was welcome in a church and I knew that asking questions was the best way to learn something. It was a matter that had been troubling me and I figured since the priest knew more then I did, he was a good person to ask. Silly me, I was using logic.

That, however, was really tame compared to the harassment I got from my peers. They would do things like talk about how I was going to Hell because I didn't believe in Jesus, that my family was going to suffer because of me, and that my lack of faith was the reason why my elderly great-grandmother died. (It was Alzheimer disease, but I had a hard time grasping that.) Now, you may ask, why did the topic of religion even come up when I was going to a secular school. The problem is one teacher decided to demand to ask us all 'who made you?' one day. My peers answered 'god' and I answered 'my parents.' I had a rough understanding of where babies came from, even in 3rd grade. The teacher flipped her lid, banished me out of her class room with the classmate who she some how learned was Jewish. We spent a good half year stuck in the hallway because of that shit. I think this is part of the reason why I have so much difficulty with multiplication, to be honest.

But, when that little fact came out, all the bullies used it as fodder to harass me. And it got nasty. As I got older and I started trying to make sense of how the world worked and fumbling my way through theological concepts, I had people who would ambush me with this demand that I convert to their faith or go to hell. I was already getting pushed around in other areas. This was one point that I just couldn't get pushed into because I hit my limit. Thus, the harassment got worse over the years. It wound up with things like my acquiring a reputation as a 'whore' after they decided the epithet 'Satan's whore' was good for me. That resulted in a couple of guys from the local collage propositioning me for sexual favors. I was 14 at the time.

Somewhere around when they started in on the 'Satan's whore' business, I fell into Wicca. As I learned about the history and mythos of the faith, I got angry. So, when someone decided to use my 'godless' status as an excuse to shove me into a locker, I grabbed 'em by the lapels and used their momentum to slam them into a locker while telling them quite loudly to stop mocking my religion. I stayed 'loud and proud' for a long time. Heck, I was one of the two token pagans at the Catholic private college I attended. (The other being my best friend. The nuns were wonderful to us. Our peers were apparently afraid of me but decided to physically harass my friend. She didn't let me know about it until years after the fact. I was livid on her behalf. She said it was sweet of me.)

No, I got quiet after I had kids. Why did I get quiet after I had kids, because it was no longer just me and my husband to worry about. And my husband is a big guy, he can handle pretty much anything that gets thrown at him and does it well. But having these two little boys to worry about, I got progressively quieter and quieter about my faith until I all but stopped practicing for a while there. (Loki had some choice words to say about that. Pointedly reminded me the worst they could do was kill me, because they really couldn't do anything else beyond that due to the fact that the rest of the family would step in to protect the boys if needed. He also reminded me that I am a fighter and that fighting was an option. Somehow, I forgot that.)

I guess it was a few weeks ago, as the kids started talking about Easter (actually, I think the itch started closer to Christmas) that I got to feeling angry that they were being indoctrinated passively into the Christian faith. And it hit me that if I didn't give them any sort of grounding, someone else would. And, quite frankly, the variety of Christians around my neck of the woods has been skewed increasingly towards the Dominionist variety. I'll be damned if I'm going to let them get their mitts on my boys. Those folks are dangerous as fuck.

So, I am taking steps to come out of the broomcloset that I found myself in and moving towards actively teaching the boys about my faith. Beloved is indifferent to the subject of religion, though he is happy to support what I say and willing to explain things in the terms of the Norse faith (as much as he understands). I did some divination on this recently. I was told to focus on family traditions and ancestor worship as a way to start the process of their spiritual education. While my household will probably never be one for saying grace before the meal (I thank the lives that give us our sustenance as I am cooking and do my best to honor them through creating the best meal I can each time. It seems to work.) I think we need to have some more formalized activity of worship going on.

With Easter coming, I will be doing something for Ostara. It will be small and the kids are probably going to be happier that they're getting a special surprise rather then anything else. And I'm going to start making active things for honoring the gods that the kids can do. They're not old enough to light candles on their own but maybe the electric tea lights will count. And I know there will be someway to put out offerings as the weather gets nice.

At the same time, I am terrified that the neighbors are going to do horrible, horrible things to us for this. And I am saddened and angered by that fear. Even more so that, on some level, it is justified.

Letters to Loki # 15: Rambling.

Dear Crazy Uncle of Thor,

I'm not sure what to write this week. It has been a hard start because my maternal grandmother is in the hospital. I'm real worried about her. I'm trying not to perseverate on it all, but it keeps creeping up. In addition to being worried about her, I'm concerned for my mother. The stress of taking care of my paternal grandmother is wearing on her and my Dad. This business with her mom being in the hospital has to be making that another ten times worse.

I have been doing as Freyr strongly encouraged (understatement but I can't think of a better way to phrase it right now) and taking a break from working on books right now. It's sort of funny because I can't stop thinking about the books I could be working on. It is a little bit maddening but I know I'll get through it. I was excited to hear that someone who was loaned a copy of my fantasy book really wants to buy at least two copies. I'm still sticking with the plan that you and Freyr came up with. The limited run of the book with the last stage of 'draft' material in it is going to be coming to a close in a little while as I fix the cosmetic points and such. I know that you guys think this will make it something of a cult collectible but I'm not sure how well that will work out. Still, I'm sticking with the plan.

I have the shopping back of stuff to donate about a quarter of the way full. I don't think this skein of white yarn is ever going to end. I'm getting bored with it and tempted to just drop it and start on the colored one. I am a bit baffled, however, as to why the cuffs are coming out with some variation in the width of them. I do everything the same, keep the same tension on the yarn, and I know that there's no alteration in the number of stitches. It's just plain weird. And it only shows up after the mittens have sat for a few minutes. I am utterly confused by this development.

The only other thing I can think to add is why on earth do you insist that Fireball whiskey goes well with french vanilla coffee? I tried it and it was horrible. Seriously, I'm never doing that again. You can keep that version all for yourself. If I want to add a little booze to my french vanilla coffee, I'll just do a splash of vanilla liqueur.

Letters to Loki # 7

Hey there Loki,

I'm not sure what I should write. I just learned that my great aunt Jackie died last night. I suppose I am in a bit of shock. I feel horrible for my great uncle Ed and my second cousins Eddie and Wayne. Also for Wayne's boys who have lost their grandmother. I'm pretty sure that I won't be able to make it out to Long Island for her services.

It upsets me to watch the fading and dying of my grandparent's generation. While I recognize that it was simply a matter of time, it still bothers me. They have lived through so much. I don't know if it is selfish and cruel of me to want them to hang on a bit longer. Down inside me, however, there is that little girl who wants to keep her whole family close. The passing of my great aunt just reminds me of how much of that dream has and is slipping out of my fingers.

I'd write more but I just don't have the words.

Letters to Loki # 2: Keeping the Shield up.

Hail Loptr,

Thanksgiving was exhausting. I am quite thankful for my loving family by marriage. I'm thankful for the health and well being of my family. I'm thankful that Beloved had the day off from work and the day after. Most of all, I'm thankful for Ativan. Seriously, the chemist who invented that was a freaking genius. I made it most of the way through that gathering with out freaking out because of it.

I wish I could say that I'm doing better then I was last week. I don't know if I am, to be perfectly honest. Still, I'm keeping my proverbial shield up and pushing forward. I've been good about making sure I do my writing in my therapy journal, even though I think I'd prefer to deal with that wound-drain business when I had my appendix out. At least that was done and over with after a few weeks. This stuff just seems to keep going and going. It's like the Energizer bunny of doom or something.

I worry about what I'm going to do over the holidays. I feel like the stuff I have done thus far is insufficient. I'm pretty sure that it is my delusions of worthlessness kicking in. I've been catching myself stumbling over that one a lot over the last several days. It makes me a bit disgusted. Of all the things to be delusional over, it has to be how wretched I am. It is terribly unpleasant and I rather hate it. My anxiety has been rather high over the last week (hence my taking Ativan before visiting the in-laws, which usually doesn't faze me).

Going to the laundromat yesterday was pure torment. I literally lack the words to adequately express my gratitude for your encouragement. Having you sitting with me and pointing out how all the people in there were just minding their own business and didn't even notice me helped me as much as the Ativan did. I see my psychiatrist this week. I think I will do as you have strongly urged and discuss how my mood has dropped and my anxiety has been increasing.

I am a little nervous because this is going to be a new psychiatrist. That old fear that they're not going to believe me or discredit everything I have to say as being manufactured by a diseased brain is already bothering me. I feel really uncomfortable with the idea that I am going to have to request a renewal of the Ativan prescription. I'm almost out and I have discovered the hard way that I can't sleep with out it right now.

Sleep and I are now on speaking terms again. I suppose this is an improvement. Most of last week, I kept waking up in the middle of the night and being awake for about half the night. The nightmares, however, haven't stopped. Even with the medications, I still have a rough memory of them and what I do recall makes me shudder. It's made writing in my therapy journal a real fun experience. (See, my sarcasm is still intact, I'm going to be ok!)

I have been doing like you encouraged me and writing Freyr more. I'll admit it, you were right. He wasn't disgusted or horrified by what I had to say. My vulnerability did not repulse him, as I was so afraid of happening. I felt weirded out by how compassionate and concerned he was. Of course, I still get weirded out when Beloved does that too. I don't know if I'm ever going to get used to someone responding to my 'weakness' with positive things. I look at it and it feels like something is wrong with the universe. Like I'm watching the sun rise in the west rather then the east, kind of wrong.

I suppose, however, I should work on getting used to that kind of thing. Weird is your forte. And positive weirdness seems to be a more effective mindfuck then negative weirdness. Oh, speaking of weird, what was up with messing with that dryer? I put in 60 min worth of quarters and then suddenly I had 99 min? Seriously, dude, that had me concerned that I was going to have my stuff light on fire or something. Thankfully, the dryers there don't lock shut after you put your change in and I was able to get my laundry out. Pranking me to lighten the situation is ok, but please don't lead me to suspect that something is going to burst into flame because of it.

I'm still looking for that blue butterfly pin you told me to find for Sigyn. I think I may have to take a trip up to the city to find it. But I will locate it by Yule. If I have to, I'll make it. Let me know if there are other things you want me to find/make for people. My project list is actually fairly short right now.

First post of the new Solar year.

Waxing Wolf Moon (Age: 13 days)
Sign of Cancer
Weather: Unseasonably warm,
cloudy w/ intermittent rain showers
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ave, Dea Madre! Gloria Plena!

It is the eve of the Full Moon. I have strung a fifteen decade Goddess rosary. As I strung the beads, I prayed. It sits upon my altar now, after I have taken it out into the night and shown it (and my other personal prayer beads) to the moon.

I meditated upon the Mother. I prayed to the Mother.

My heart breaks for the gulf of distance between my human Mother and I. It isn't that she lives on the other side of the country or that there is some great physical distance between her and I. It is an emotional distance. One that I suspect she is beginning to realize is the result of her mistreatment of me.

As I sat and I prayed to the Great Mother, I thought back to the first, secret pregnancy. Even as I was terrified that I'd be forced to marry the monster that had raped me, I was thrilled to carry within me a little Life. When I miscarried, I was heartbroken. I kept secret my mourning.

As I sat and I prayed to the Great Mother, I thought back to the birth of my eldest son. I thought of the joyful anticipation and excitement I felt. I felt that I was truly one of the most blessed women in all the world.

As I sat and I prayed to the Great Mother, I thought back to the birth of my youngest son. I thought of the times when I wasn't filled with confusion and terror. In its place, there was a blessed sense of peace, gratitude, joy, and anticipation.

As I sat and I prayed to the Great Mother, I thought back to the argument between my mother and I that set off the chain of events that brought me to the current state of affairs. I was torn between the desire to simply pass off her words as braggadocio and the horror I felt that she had gone so far as to threaten small, defenseless children in an effort to manipulate me. I was torn between my love for her and doing what was just.

I find myself seized with the strongest urge to pick up the phone and call my parents. To just tell them that I love them before I go to bed.

Goddess help me, I don't know what the right thing to do is. Is it to reconcile with them or to remain distant? I pray. I meditate. I cast cards and throw runes. All things leave only that question hanging in the air. There is no sign either way, so I remain where I am at.

I feel on the verge of weeping. Even the Wolf's Father's kindness isn't penetrating this overwhelming sense of sorrow. I am doing my best to leave this in the Mother's hands, but I feel like I have cut out my beating heart and laid it bleeding upon the altar. I don't know if it is the altar of my conscience, the altar of justice, or the altar of the Gods.

I only know that I hurt and that I miss my mother, as crazy and flawed that she is.

Rambing thoughts on Labor & the Goddess.

Waxing Blood Moon (Age: 6 days)
Moon Sign: Sagittarius
Weather: Cool, cloudy & rainy
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As I sit here in the grips of discomfort due to premenstrual cramps, I find myself reminded of labor. Labor was terribly uncomfortable but the part that was the worst was the intense distress that I felt over possibly being viewed as a coward. With each contraction, I grew more upset until I was near tears when my time to go in for the c-section came up. As the anesthesiologist was giving me the spinal block, I couldn't help crying out with fear.

I look back on that moment and I feel such a surge of pity for myself in that time. I was so wrapped up in the terror that I would be judged and found lacking. I had been struggling with depression, as I have been recently, and the night before I had argued with my husband. It came together with the wild ride of hormonal changes to create a very different situation then when my first child was born. It makes me sad that the birth of my second child was filled with such distress where as the birth of my first was a much happier event.

I find myself wondering, has the Goddess felt such fear when her time came upon her? I look at the world at large and consider the struggles of mothers to birth their children, of any species, and that question returns to me again and again. Maiden horses (mares that are birthing their first foal) require careful monitoring and soothing to help them through the experience when not in the wild. In the wild, I am sure that there are mares and foals lost due to complications that come from the distress of the mare and subsequent physical difficulties. I suspect that the same need for care and soothing would be found through out all other species in the event of the first birth, if not subsequent birthings. (I would be inclined to consider the laying of eggs as a form of birthing, given the strain it places upon the body.)

I suppose one must conclude that somewhere in the mythology of the Goddess, there is a story of her suffering in labor. Is it egocentric of me to feel compassion, if not a touch of pity, for the Lady herself? It is much like when I was contemplating Catholicism and my mind continually returned to the Passion of Christ, filling me with pity and sorrow for the suffering of Jesus. So many Christians that I know speak of the Passion (a Latin word for suffering) as a glorious triumph and remove the very real misery and terror from the event.

If Jesus was in sufficient terror to beg God the Father to alleviate his suffering, if at all possible, then wouldn't Christians recollect this? The events in the garden of Gethsemane are clearly an example of the very human experience of fear in the face of travail, in my opinion. Wiccan theology is not so very different from Christian at times. The suffering of the Goddess in labor and the suffering of the Harvest God could be argued to be in some ways parallel to the suffering of Jesus.

In all three cases, there is suffering of the flesh, the mind, and arguably the spirit. The flesh suffering pain and in two cases death are much like the suffering we endure in life. We have times where we experience pain, at times such intense pain that we are unsure if we can bear it. This would be the suffering of the mind. The terror that comes attendant upon pain or the lack of surety that comes with it is something that all humanity can recognize. I suspect that the Goddess experiences some measure of the fear that all mothers have at the time of labor, fear that their child or possibly themselves will not survive it.

For some, I am sure that fear is a brief experience. I don't think that it is all consuming but I suspect it does rear its head for all women who are birthing their first or subsequent children. I know that it laid its cold hand upon my shoulder at the time of birthing both my children, even though the experiences were as different as night and day. The suffering of the spirit is something akin to the suffering of the mind, I think. I could, however, be entirely wrong.

I had something I wanted to say but it just vanished from my thoughts after my eldest distracted me. Such is life, I suppose.

Blessed First Harvest!

Moon phase: Waxing Corn Moon (age: 3 days)
Moon Sign: Virgo
Weather: Fair skies, warm but seasonably so; drought still persists
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In my own manner, I have been observing the festival of the first harvest for a little over a month now. I started with the first strawberries from my plants (subsequently, the only ones due to this drought). I then moved on to the wild black berries and my herbs. Today, I harvested the first pepper (which was tiny but so flavorful) off of my pepper plant.

It is my hope that with careful and diligent watering, my pepper plant will put out more peppers and the tomatoes will actually fruit, not just survive this beastly drought. With each bite, I said out loud or within my own little head a small prayer.

Hail to the Green Man! He who feeds us with his flesh!

It was unfortunate that my wheat didn't sprout and grow. If I am lucky, however, I may be able to get some gleanings from somewhere around here. Quite surprisingly, actually, I have a bit of wheat growing in the pot where I attempted to re-pot my very sickly orchid. The orchid, unfortunately, was too weak to take being repotted. But somehow, wheat seeds found their way into my MiL's bag of orchid potting mix and into the pot that had held my orchid. I'm hoping these seeds will continue to grow and I may get some ripe ears out of it, but I am not going to hold my breath.

I feel truly blessed right now, even with the pain in my leg (from a fall back in early June). I am home with my family. I have my plants growing as well as they can despite the drought. My children are growing up fine and strong. My husband has work and we can pay our bills. It is a collection of relatively small things compared to what goes on in the world, but I am deeply thankful for them. Sometimes, the greatest blessings are the ordinary things that we take for granted.

To have food to put in our bellies, clothes to cover us, and a roof to shelter us is to be in possession of a great many blessings that others are not so fortunate to have. Thus, I am thankful.

In my tradition, the First Harvest is a blessed day of work. Work is sacred. Just as the planting of the fields is a holy thing, so too is bringing in the harvest. I am profoundly thankful that I am home to go about the work of being a housewife and mother. Last year, I was in a hospital for my psychological illness. It was as different from today as night is from day. I have grown from that experience and I am thankful for the wisdom that has come from it.

Thus, the celebration of harvest season begins officially for many other Witches and Pagans. I too join in their ranks to take as much joy from life as I possibly can right now and to savor the plenty that is abundantly available before Winter comes. I may not be ready yet to make preserves to store up what I have grown in my garden, but each memory preserves the Summer to comfort me.

Blessed First Harvest, everyone.

Musings on Spinning

Moon Phase: Waxing Gibbous (10 days old)
Moon Sign: Scorpio
Weather: Partially cloudy, seasonably warm & cool front just passed in the last few hours
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As I have gotten more involved with the ancient craft of spinning, I have been attempting to find out old legends, stories, and wisdom regarding it. This has proven frustratingly elusive. I suspect that this class of legends have passed out of the folk memory with the exception of a few that were written down (like the Fates spinning out a man's life as a thread or Frigga spinning the clouds). I believe that with the advent of modern machine oriented textile production, the old stories were lost. And that is something that makes me sad.

The more I use my spindle and distaff, the more I feel a connection to my female ancestors. The more I find I feel a connection with the Goddess. I have been spinning a lot lately. The fiber I have been using isn't long enough to merit using my distaff, but one of my small collection of distaffs has a prized place upon my altar. It is in part a tool of my age old domestic craft and in part a sacred object. (I'm very much a kitchen witch in that respect.) My spindles are either busily in use or waiting for use. They're not still long enough to gather dust.

And I feel that work is sacred. Not what people uphold as the dreaded four letter connotation - that soul crushing, mind numbing thing which has all the feel of slavery in it's grip upon mankind is most definitely not what I view as sacred. Indeed, that I believe could be argued as profanity. No, work is the life sustaining tasks we engage in. The things we do out of love and necessity for the sake of ourselves, our families, and that which we believe in. The man who has a job he feels proud of and feels that he is contributing to his life and the lives of others... that man is engaged in the holy form of work. The one who is just dragging himself through the day for a paycheck, he is suffering a perversion of that first form of work.

I suppose all of that makes one question where my 'hobby' of spinning fits into this. I have several reasons why I spin. First, I spin because I enjoy it and it soothes me. As a person who suffers with anxiety on a daily basis, it is vital that I have something that helps me keep my mind at ease. With out it, I can scarcely function, let alone be a good mother and wife. Secondly, I spin because I feel a sacred connection to my ancestors and the Goddess. To engage in a task so intimately connected with the lives of those who founded my line and so sacred that the Goddess herself engaged in it... it is an act of worship and meditation to do so. Thirdly, I spin because I then can make useful and helpful things from my efforts. I can take raw fiber and eventually have hats and scarves for my husband and children.

Sure, I suppose I could go and buy all of my yarn at the local WalMart. There's lots of lovely colors and synthetic yarn is a lot easier to care for. At the same time, however, I can't shake the feeling that it is ecologically more responsible for me to spin. I am not depending upon the labor of some person who is being exploited to run a dangerous piece of equipment in a fiber mill in some third-world country. I'm not adding to the coffers of businesses that poison the earth with their chemical byproducts in producing the raw material for those synthetic fibers used in those mills.

Oh, I still will get some of that synthetic yarn, but I am gradually moving away from my dependency upon it. I am doing my best to start using more recycled yarn. I am beginning to comb the second hand shops for sweaters and similar items to frog and fashion into new things. I have been collecting bits and pieces of yarn that are left overs from other projects I have done to use in things like scarves and baby blankets. The more I do along these thrifty lines, the more I feel better about what I am doing. And still I spin.

When I am happy, I spin. When I am sad or fearful, I spin. When I am inspired, I spin. When I am devoid of even a remote flash of inspiration, I spin. With each turn of the spindle, each twist of the fiber, and each moment of time I am spinning, I pray. I wonder if my prayers are the same as my ancestresses.

I pray for peace of mind. I pray for the health and well being of my loved ones. I pray for justice for the wronged. I pray for health for the world and for all people of the world to know at least one good night's sleep. I pray for blessings to be infused into my work to bring well being to the person who eventually receives or wears what I make. I pray that those who bring evil into the world are opposed and eventually put to rights.

I also secretly pray for more fiber to spin, at times. I pray that my spindles won't break. I pray that I will continue to improve in my efforts to learn this craft. I pray that I actually master the knitting techniques I have been stumbling and struggling with. I pray that the materials I am using will prove strong enough to be used for any future project, be it weaving, knitting, crochet, or some other textile art form.

It's a whole lot for a twirling stick with some fiber wrapped around it. Perhaps, just perhaps, I will get glimmers of what my ancestresses thought of and did as they spun. I know one thing, I am going to continue to pray and spin for a long time.

Stitches and witches, sew what?

Moon Phase: Waxing Blossom Moon (4 day old)
Moon Sign: Gemini
Weather: Seasonably mild, clear skies and light breezes from the west. Venus is quite brilliant.

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My silly attempts at punning aside, I have spent my time since my last post here engaged in a great deal of spinning, sewing, embroidery, knitting, and crochet. This is not idle behavior but rather closely tied to my efforts to regain my psychological and spiritual health. It may sound a little silly, but I am in effect adopting some of the idea of the Prayer Shawl Ministry into one of my projects.

J & J are two very dear friends of mine who have fallen onto hard times. The husband of this sweet couple (who are like family to my husband and I, the proverbial 'brother from another mother' kind of deal here) has had the misfortune to be in prison because of an unjust law and will remain there until 2013, unless the Gods are kind and some act has him released into his wife's loving arms and liberty before then, healthy and hale. As they struggle to achieve some level of normalcy in this situation and do their best to retain their dignity in what is a truly degrading and dehumanizing situation (an innocent man sent to prison is just terrible for all involved), I was at a loss for what to do to bring a measure of help and comfort to the wife of this couple. They had told us various things we could do, but it really felt paltry in the face of the enormity of this tragedy.

Then I remembered reading about the Prayer Shawl Ministry as I was looking up shawl patterns to make for myself. Instead of a shawl, however, I am making a blanket which they both can share. As I work on this blanket, it is not simply that the blanket itself is going to be stitched with love, compassion, and good wishes for them. For this blanket is being made from hand-spun yarn from myself and those who spin and are willing to donate. The yarn I have made, it is special because into the yarn itself is spun my intentions to express the love, support, and good wishes of my family for these two very dear people in our lives. It may be simplistic but sometimes, it is the simplest forms of magic that work the best.

My newest embroidery project is a sampler done in colors inspired by myself with stitches chosen as they occur to me. It is something of a self-portrait in fabric. It is not a very large sampler, but I am intending to do another and another as I progress forward in my counseling. While my painting has reflected the pain and sorrow of the past, my embroidery has shown the radiant core of joy, peace, and love that has always been within me, undaunted by the afflictions that I have experienced. I haven't yet decided on the motto I'm going to stitch on to this. I am debating between Love Conquers All (in Latin or English, I'm not fully committed yet) or All acts of Love and Pleasure. I am planning on making this little sampler into either a pillow or a rose scented sachet. Either way, it is going to be one of the first things I see in the morning and one of the last I see at night. A daily reminder of my strength and the various other wonderful qualities I have within me. My intent is for this to be a love-gift to myself, for Beloved has very wisely pointed out that I haven't done enough kind things like this for myself.

Similar to the crochet blanket I mentioned earlier, I am going to be piecing and sewing a pair of quilts. It was initially going to be three quilts, but the plans for that fizzled out fairly quickly. One quilt is going to be of a modest size and I plan for it to be finished by Yule, at the latest. It is for my brother's soon-to-be ex-wife. Just as the crochet blanket I am making for J & J is going to embody the love and care that I and my family hold for them, this will do so for a woman who has become my sister in name and deed. It may no longer be in name, but she will always be a sister to me and I shall always treasure her presence in my life. This will be a sampler quilt of a very traditional design, there by I hope to not only carry forward my own bit of skills but also the heritage of my family that my brother's disgraceful behavior failed to convey to his wife and children.

The second quilt is going to be large enough for a king-sized bed and it will be what is known by some as a 'double top' or a 'double patchwork' quilt. This is specifically for our dear friend who is in prison right now. One block is going to be made for each month of his sentence. The last six months of his term are going to be for piecing together the blocks, quilting, and finishing this. It will be made with my thoughts and prayers for him. Happy memories, hopes, and everything else that comes to mind as I meditate upon him while I sew is going to be part of this. If I can, I am going to try to get Beloved to do some stitches into this also.

This is what I am working on. By doing this, I not only have tangible evidence in my hands of how I can help others, my love for them, the relationships I am in, and of who I am, I also help to sow peace and love where there is fear and anxiety. Even only a small measure of that helps the world at large.

Spring is the season of growth, if the Gods smile on me, perhaps these seeds will grow and run rampant, crowding out the depression and other things that have served to oppress me and many others. For we are all most severely in need of it.

Imboleg 2010: preparation

Moon: Waxing Ice Moon, sign of Taurus
Weather: Unseasonably warm, overcast, light rain and humid
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I think this year I am going to actually hold a small ritual for Imboleg and invite some folks from the coven that Rose was head of. I also think I am going to invite my sister-in-law and my aunt. I know it is this weekend, but I also know that the ritual does not need to be precisely on that day. I'm actually leaning towards the prospect of combining the ritual with a full moon observance. Saving the private observance of Imboleg for myself at home.

This year is going to be a year of changes. I can feel it coming. I think that we all need to get ready for the coming year and that the changes are going to be big enough that we need to sweep away the remnants of the past year. I am going to be a bit of a sassy thing and bring a little bit of the paganism with me to the game I'm attending this upcoming weekend. Actually, the more I think about it, the more I think it really wouldn't be fair to everyone. So, I believe I'll just let it remain separate.

For the ritual, if I can manage it, I want to do a candle blessing and purification ritual. I don't know if this thaw is going to hold. If it does, however, I believe that I want to take the opportunity to burn slips of paper with the things we're purifying ourselves of. I also believe that I want to burn slips of paper with prayers for the new coming spring. I'm fairly sure that it will be a straight forward and simple thing. Some of the best magic, however, is the simplest.

Because Imboleg is deep winter's end, I want to reflect this. The last of my winter altar images are going to get put away. I believe that the altar 'furniture' is going to be rearranged somewhat as well, with a new altar cloth laid down. I think I'm going to replace the rose quartz sphere with the marble egg. I also believe that I'm going to replace the raw rose quartz piece sitting there with a clear quartz point. The stalks of wheat that are in the vase sitting on the altar in a position of honor are going to be replaced with a small pot of soil. I'm not fully decided on this. I may just let it stay until it...

Actually, I just figured out what I should do. I should take one of my small bowls that I use for offerings and put seeds in it. I'm going to need to think about what kind of seeds, but it'll make sense soon enough. The colors pink are frequently associated with this Sabbat because it's so close to Valentine's day. I don't know if I want to do that, though. I'm thinking something closer to a spring green. And I'm also thinking that it'd be more fitting to have a small pot of flowers rather then the seeds on the altar.

I don't know what'll be best. I suppose I am rambling, but I do know that enough time has passed that we really should do something. Rose would be heartbroken to see how the circle has fallen apart with out her.

St. Distaff Day?

Waning Snow Moon, Sagittarius
Cold but seasonal, light area wide snowfall, winds from the north-west
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In Medieval Europe, the day after the Feast of Epiphany was known as St. Distaff day. This was the day when women resumed household work and the holiday season ended. It was a day when pranks were played and men and women embraced the new year. I am not Christian by any stretch of the imagination but there's something to be noted about having a day where work of the home is celebrated.

On my little altar in the living room here, I have a little braided wrist distaff and my spinning materials are all about. I've been ill and much of the household orientation has been upended as a result. Instead of it being done by intention, it was by necessity that my husband took on the role of Mr. Mom for the last few weeks. To say the least, the children were a bit taken aback by the change in routine. In medieval households, such changes were light hearted and done with a sense of exuberance to brighten up the dull days of deep winter.

It was good to have the experience, I think both my husband and I learned a lot from it. I learned that I needed to step back and let him handle things when I can't do them. It's not easy to do that. He learned what I did everyday and the challenges and joys of it. I don't think he's laughed quite as much as he did last week at the antics of the boys in a long time at work. I may intentionally incorporate something like this into the observances of the year, this way we have reminders like this when we need them.

I'm also fairly certain that the little boys will make fine Lords of Misrule. They've got a good start on it as it is right now.