A Cauldron Full of Stars

Updates to my planned senility

2012-03-02T03:00:00.000-08:00

I am still planning my old age craziness, so I thought I'd share a few more ideas. This time, the list is not targeted at driving my offspring bonkers.

Drive slowly around town during rush hour. When people honk, honk back "Mary Had A Little Lamb" (Isn't my mom great for suggesting that?).
Draw a fake mole on everyday, in a new location.
Pay for things with pennies.
Clip coupons for everything!
Wear my stockings rolled down below my knees.
Go out with curlers in my hair (okay, I did that once, but it was only to deliver my friend to the salon before her wedding).
Dye my peach fuzz (I know that's what my hair will look like, as it looked like that when I was little) pale pink.
Wear a tiara, a faux fur stole, long white gloves and carry a cigarette holder when I dine out, even if it's just at IHOP.
Let my roses bushes try to take over the Universe, or at least just my house.
Garden while wearing a witch's hat.
Give everybody crochet tea cozies for gifts (I can give them nice things, too, but I think I need a gift giving tradition).
Start watching rugby and yell at the TV a lot (my great grandmother watched wrestling and loved it, but rugby's more my speed).

Imaginary friends

2012-03-01T08:33:00.000-08:00

My sons have very active imaginations. My older son had a whole imaginary family (a wife and 17 children) when he was little. The other boy, well, he has a collection of troublemakers named Yaga, Gaga, Laga, and Yellow. Their play is rich in magic and possibility.

Watching them enjoy their imaginary friends and imaginary worlds, I kind of miss my imaginary places and people. I had unicorns and tea parties, lush gardens (hey, I lived in a desert) and balls with fancy dresses.

It's easy to forget these little pieces of ourselves, but I think it is sad, too. As we grow, we get less time to dream and imagine and learn, even though our need for these things never diminishes. How we deal with our urge to create realities does. I paint, write, and craft as my outlet, but at times, I miss being able to just retreat into my own shifting realities.

"Something handmade from the heart"

2012-02-28T03:30:00.000-08:00

Last week, I joined Polly's (Pagan by Design) "Homemade from the Heart" giveaway. I'd been toying with the idea of starting something here to dovetail with my Faery Godparent Project, but I'm very glad she and Magaly at Pagan Culture beat me to it.

To enter, be one of the first 5 people to let me know that you want me to send you something I hand make. In return, you promise to do the same for 5 other people. You can e-mail here with your name and address. Over the next couple of months, I will send out these items as I complete them.

I think this is a great way to spend some time crafting, spread magic and make people smile. These projects also let us make tangible connections to each other. Have fun, enjoy and thanks for reading!

Spirals

2012-02-27T03:00:00.000-08:00

They say life goes in cycles, and that has often been true. Sometimes, though, I think spirals might be a better analogy. We go round and round, seeming to wind up over and over again in a new place, but we've moved, even though the view doesn't seem different. After a period of time, you can see how far you've moved away from where you started, but while we're travelling, especially at the beginning, we can't see the distance.

Stubborn

2012-02-26T03:00:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, the strongest parts of our personality are present in us at a young age. I wrote this while I was writing the storytellers series, but I didn't use it. It's one of those stories that has become iconic in our family, because it is completely me.

My mom likes to use this story as an illustration of my tendency to think for myself. I like to think I've gotten a bit better about taking advice, but that's rather open to interpretation. When I was very young, we lived on a ranch, where my mom cooked. The heat came from an iron bellied stove. When this happened (and I know it did, because I burn scars on both palms), I was only about eighteen months old.

"I saw you looking at the stove, and I looked at you, and said, "Mandy, don't touch that, it's hot." You looked me right in the eye and then put both your hands flat on it."

Yep, that sounds like me. I still have the scars on my palms. My mom just shakes her head when I decide to do something. I guess she learned early on, that I was going to do what I wanted, no matter what you say.

Talking to the God and the Goddess

2012-02-25T03:30:00.000-08:00

Having grown up in a religion that incorporated a prophet and priestly interpretation of God's will, I had a sense that I was too unimportant to communicate with the Divine. It took years, many authors, and an attitude adjustment for me to even think about trying to contact the Goddess.

When I finally did, it was surprisingly easy, and it felt right in a way that nothing else in my spiritual life ever had before. She laughed and told me that it had taken me long enough to get to that point, but there was pride in Her tone as well. From then on, I began to strip away many of the trappings of ritual work. I learned to trust my urges for spontaneous and joyful celebration.

Many interactions have I had with Her. Some as subtle as a whisper of reassurance in the wind, others were direct communication during meditation. Images that appeared in my mind and sudden inspiration all have been Her and I communicating. It took longer, for a variety of reasons for me to reach out to the God. My interactions with Him have been far fewer, but no less powerful, as I am only beginning my lessons with Him. In time, I imagine His presence will be every bit as comforting and frequent as is Hers in my life.

If you haven't already, I urge you to try to reach out to your Gods and communicate. Fear of silence is natural, but when you are truly ready to welcome Them into your life, They will be there to teach you.

Update on Faery Godparents for Jane: Jane is going home this weekend! Thank you to everyone who commented with ideas and who sent good thoughts her way. It is very much appreciated.

Me and my car have something in common

2012-02-24T03:00:00.001-08:00

Poor Princess (aka 1993 green Jaguar XJ40, as my husband insists) has been under the weather, but happily the Fix It Fairy (aka my husband) was able to diagnose and fix her. Turns out, she needed a bit of spark. I totally know the know the feeling.

Now, if only my spark issues were as easily fixed as changing the spark plugs, I would be set. Writing this makes me conclude, I spend way to much time with my car nuts (aka Hubby and kids). Maybe making Princess some new jewelry (my wings or a nice tiara for the hood ornament?) and spreading some silliness will get me going again.

Religious disrespect

2012-02-23T03:00:00.001-08:00

I hate hypocrisy. I also believe in setting an example. Recently, I saw a Pagan blogger's "humorous" status update on a social network. It was a link to a site mocking the Mormon's baptism of the dead.You could enter the name of a dead Mormon to turn them gay. Stupid, yes? It really pissed me off, especially from somebody who has the ear of so many Pagans, and so often crusades against Pagan persecution.

I found it disrespectful, distasteful and horrifying on several levels. My family history is intricately and irrevocably tied to the Mormon church, just as it is to Plymouth Colony. Not so many generations back my family was involved in the very beginnings of the Mormon Church. It's how we ended up in the West. I am proud that my fore bearers stood up for what they believed, traveled a difficult and dangerous journey looking for a place to live their lives free of hatred. I am proud of those who walked away when that same religion no longer spoke to their hearts. My personal history with the LDS community has been difficult- they excommunicated my mother when she had me (but not my married father); they actively tried to turn me against her as a child, and they told me I could only have a happy afterlife if I married well. I have seen them abuse power and people, but I merely walked away rather fighting with them. I've never agreed with many tenants of the Mormon faith, even when I was one. Baptism of the dead has always bothered me, but I will not condone mocking another faith, just because I don't like their dogma.

As a Pagan, who has at times been shunned and pestered, I will not do it to someone else. I will not quietly sit here and let the remark go without pointing out how awful and hypocritical it is. If Pagans (all of those many far flung and frequently unrelated belief systems that get tossed under the umbrella together) want to be treated with respect and kindness and not persecuted, we damn well better not be starting crap.

Awakening in a cemetery

2012-02-21T18:40:00.000-08:00

About 7 years ago, I was working on the weekends as a building attendant/docent for a local heritage center that included a cemetery and a de-sanctified Carpenter Gothic Church. It was a quite often solitary job, but I learned to appreciate the solitude and the place in ways I never could have imagined. My daily routine would see me leave the office in the museum, walk around the church, then wander through the cemetery, noting anything out of place. I was there to protect the historic treasure of a small community, but also to educate visitors. Among the Hawthorne trees and the dead, I began to let my mind wander to other existences, and to tune in to a world that is always around us, but so often ignored.

Here, I learned that the trees really do have a voice and the land, sometimes, remembers things we have forgotten. It will tell you its stories if you can listen long enough and carefully enough. A patch of lily of the valley that blooms each May marks a lost grave missing it's marker. The plinth that a stone angel once stood on tells the tale of a family's sorrow over their daughter's death (a fragment of the sweet face carved in marble is all that is left and she sits, locked away in a museum case). Broken and repaired grave markers are testaments to someone's disrespect of others and other people's attempt to repair the damage and restore the past with a great deal of love, but little skill. Plots never filled and the mix of languages and birthplaces carved into stone speak of global diaspora. There is a a great deal to be learned in a cemetery, and there is even more to be learned from nature creeping back to overtake the space once again, to re-appropriate it into the world, rather than leaving it as a pristine time capsule. Moss and lichen gentle erase carvings. Wildflowers mix among those flowers planted in memory of the dead. Ivy winds up trees and fences and threatens to cover all. The soil here is expansive, soaking up huge amounts of water and swelling with the winter rains; in the dry seasons, this causes the large monuments to sink and list the side. The land of this cemetery was once part of the fertile wetland border of a shallow lake that the native Ohlone made use of for their subsistence. The Hawthorn trees were a gift from an Irish family, and a connection to their homeland. They once formed an avenue, but their age is showing and they begin to their slow deaths and decay. Across the creek, huge, old oak trees filter out the noise of the nearby freeway, making it a hum rather than a roar. They have long watched the changes made here: from wetlands to the Mexican rancho to small pioneer town to a city. Connections were forged here to Nature, to people, to the past, to myself.

I learned that their were beings that inhabited the place. One tree had a rather angry being the was attached to it, and I tried not to disturb it. I was not the only person to not like standing under that tree because it felt very unwelcoming. Another spirit I am convinced protected the people who visited from being injured by branches that routinely fell from a huge eucalyptus tree in the strong winds of the region. The almond tree, planted on the grave of someone's beloved husband, would rain down sweet, pink petals in the early spring as I walked the back path. It always felt like magic when it happened. Another being liked to show me when the deer were resting in the deep creek bed late in the summer. Migrating butterflies in the autumn would fly up to me and land on my lap if I sat out in the sunshine. A hawk nested above the roof of the church and would watch me as I walked. Mice lived in the printer of the museum office (housed in what was once the principals's office of an old schoolhouse), and the church was filled with a sense of anticipation each time I readied it for an event. The process of opening each of the 10 windows, unbolting the shutters, pinning them in place, and gently closing the windows again was a joyful task. When the church bell was rung, everything seemed to laugh. I walked alone in that building many times. My footsteps echoing on the redwood floor. With the shutters closed, the dimness and silence was calming. With the shutters open and sunlight pouring in and reflecting against the white shiplap, the place was transformed into a place of celebration. Deaths and weddings and christenings were held there. Generations, literally, celebrated the moments of life within the walls, and the church remembered this, I think.

I came to love the smell of decaying leaves, and the sounds of footsteps in the detritus. The stillness of a place left behind by history has taught me to really listen and understand how connected I am to everything around me. From these experiences, I learned to trust my intuition, to be part of the world around me, and to gather stories from places. It was during this period of my life that I began to really explore my own spirituality and to reconnect with a sense of wonder and belonging to the world. I began to love this part of California, as much as I ever loved the mountains of Nevada. I learned the rhythm of the seasons here, and to be at ease with the constant noise that comes from trees and their companion animals. Among the dead, I began to develop a curiosity and acceptance of the people around me. Strange are the places our spiritual journeys take us to teach us, yes?

These photos belong to me, please do not copy without permission.

Splinters

2012-02-21T03:00:00.000-08:00

Waking up Monday morning, I did my habitual check of the phone (my smartphone has become both a phenominal time-wasting toy and a my supplementary brain). Take a look at the overnight emails to make sure nothing pressing needs taken care. Peak at Facebook, quicker than checking the news most days, and let the blood flow back to my feet. The news included, Rick Santorum's latest stupid and hate filled verbal vomit, Japanese garbage heading for California, and the Pantheocon brouhaha(s).

It all made me think of splinters from a tree that has been forced to bear too much weight, without adequate nutrition and in a cruel climate. It may, for a time bear up to all of these, struggling to survive, defying the challenges it faces, but if it receives no nourishment, no shelter, one day the weight becomes too much and it begins to splinter. The splinters will continue to appear if the weight is not lifted and the tree is not cared for. One day, a stiff wind or a bit of debris will bring the poor tree to the ground, all because the splinters separate rather bond.

I feel like we are like that. People are splintering into ever increasing numbers of factions, and factions within factions, and that rather advancing any sort of common good, we are all pushing to be alone- splinters of a once brilliant idea. If we could search for common ground, embrace the idea that the Earth and all of it's beings are part of the whole, maybe we could mend things. We could be stronger and more beautiful if only we acknowledged that homogeneity is unnatural, diversity (in communities or ecosystems) is healthy, and that every single part of life on this planet (and really, I would assume throughout the Universe) is affected by and effecting everything else.

Coloring books

2012-02-20T03:00:00.000-08:00

When I was 20, I took up coloring in coloring books again. A big box of crayons, all to myself, and a coloring book on the living room floor was very relaxing. I did for the same reason I liked trashy romance novels better while I was a student- it helps me escape.

Helping my son color his science fair project a week ago, I remembered how much coloring is like meditation for me. One color, softly and evenly applied to an area, can drown out aches and pains and frustrations temporarily. It requires just enough focus to keep my mind reasonably occupied, but it requires no special skills or difficult judgments. The pointlessness of coloring is liberating. I feel the same way about simple crochet projects- a certain number of the same stitch or sequence or stitches, turn and repeat. It also leaves me with a tangible reminder of the time spent relaxing.

So, I'm off to Amazon's website to look for some grown up coloring books. Mandalas or Celtic knots or fairies, just something pretty and complex to concentrate on during those moments when I need some peace, but when quiet cannot be found.

Birthday boy

2012-02-19T03:30:00.000-08:00

My son turn 9 today. It's amazing how fast time seems to move when kids are involved.

He's reaching the age where you can really start to see who he will be both mentally and physically. His once elfin nose has begun to lengthen into mine. His eyes are his dad's and when he laughs hard, he crinkles his eyes exactly how my mom does. The strong jaw and cleft chin are reminiscent of my brother, Zach. Long, straight fingers are inherited from his dad, and a desire to travel most definitely is fed by his great-grandmother.

Gavin's passion for old, exotic, and expensive cars is a result of his daddy's job, and he likes to figure how things work in an often funny homage to Daddy. His interest in people is fostered by me. There are some parts of him though, that he has created all himself. Taking a walk is one of the best things in the world for him. Hugs that nearly knock me over are his primary way of showing affection, and he wants to remake the world. School is both wonderful and terrible to him, and he likes to garden and cook. He's never met a baby he didn't want to hold, and he is a shameless flirt. His little brother is his best friend, nemesis and comic foil.

My little boy is growing up, and it's hard at times, when the day-to-day interactions get in the way, to remember that he is really amazing. Like all people, he is fascinating, frustrating, full of contradictions, intelligent and still a work in progress. Each year that passes, brings him closer to completion, and each year, he teaches me new lessons about him, the world and myself. I'm sure this year will be no different.

Happy Birthday, baby.

Wandering around aimlessly

2012-02-18T03:30:00.000-08:00

From time to time, I like to wander. I leave the house with no plan in mind and just go somewhere. Where I end up is usually a surprise, but it is also way to discover your community.

Unless you live in a very small town, you probably haven't visited every part of town. Even after 6 years ion Walnut Creek, I still find pockets of houses in areas I thought were just hills, or vice versa. I find fun things like the old gas pumps from a filling station and anew vintage shop behind an office building. There are homes with beautiful a gardens and places where the past shines through the present. Winding dirt roads sometimes lead to incredible views of valleys still full of cattle. A few weeks ago, I saw a Mardi Gras tree strung with colorful beads; it was fun, pretty and seemed to keep the birds away. Yesterday, I saw a pretty stained glass window, that reminded me about how fascinated I am with the process.

Wandering is the same as being lost, but it can free us from expectations and open our eyes to what really is all around us. Going slightly out of your comfort zone or routine, even for a few minutes, can help bring back some wonder and curiosity. Next time you are in a rut, try exploring. Walk, ride or drive some place that's slightly unfamiliar and then, just wander, but don't forget to leave a trail of breadcrumbs or make a map. Just in case.

Lysistrata

2012-02-17T10:34:00.000-08:00

So, a bunch of old men want to take away our right to make decisions about our bodies, and they think that they can justify it by saying that birth control violates religious freedom. How three centuries ago!

Why don't we, the women of the world, borrow a page from Lysistrata, and stage a sex strike, or better yet, a general strike against unequal treatment. How far do you think these nosy, controlling old men will get without sexual partners, housekeepers, childcare givers, nurses, or teachers. If we could pull it off, every economy in the world would grind to a halt. Let's face it, reproductive labor (that which is repeated each day or each generation) is done mostly by women, and even if that doesn't work, I predict withholding the goodies would make men think twice.

What brought you here?

2012-02-17T03:00:00.001-08:00

Do you ever look at your spiritual journey and reflect on how you got to the place you are? Recently, it occurred to me, that I have taken a rather interesting road to this place. People, who probably never had any clue that they were influencing my spirituality, have really changed my views about what can be part of our spiritual path.

From recurrent dreams of my death in another life as a child to the Sunday school speech I gave at church when I was 8 to coursework in anthropological thought, I have reached this place with a lot of help. Sometimes, my journey was guided by an individual who held up a mirror, so that I could see myself more clearly. Other people, gave me scars. I have had the blessing of mentors who have believed in my potential, and I have challengers who taught me about limitations. Casual conversations with near strangers have yielded life lessons, and every fight I have been involved in has taught me something. There are the people who see my beauty when I am blind to it, and of course, there are all of you who read the tales I tell. A secret waterfall lost to fire and the wonder of touching long lost things of great age have provided me with moments to ponder and hold onto.

In this moment, I am full of gratitude for many experiences that brought me here. I am still a work in progress, but I can look back on the process of creation, and see that I am still evolving.

My five year old self has come to visit

2012-02-16T03:30:00.001-08:00

When I was five, I was obsessed with princesses, I spent nearly all my time in imaginary play and I was shy. That me went a way, replaced with black clothing, feminist ideals, and a big mouth. Now, I'm typically somewhere between those two: blue jeans, a world in my head and an internet platform for expressing myself.

Five year old me, though, wants to come out. She has something to say, and I haven't been very good about listening. I know she wants to play pretend and dress up and feel the beauty of the world. She has ideas, but she's so shy that it's hard to express them, and she's rather tired of boring, grown-up me.

I haven't spent much time with her in the last year. I stopped playing my dress-up games, because I didn't have time. I don't write stories or draw as much as I used to , and I sometimes wear prickly armor to cover my instinctive shyness with a grumpy attitude.

So, to appease my inner five year old, I need to give her some attention. It's not about giving in to whining, but it is about honoring all the parts of myself, good and bad. I find it easier to spend time with my bitchy teenage self (as she rarely wants more than a dark book, some feminist politics, and a new hair color). Maybe a tea party or some glitter crafts, a fairy tale or some time spent actually trying to write a story will work.

Every time I ignore this part of myself, I start to lose my sense of adventure and my appreciation for the magic of life. I get cranky and cynical, because hope comes from her and her ability to imagine that everything will be "happily ever after".

If dreams say what they mean, then I'm worried about myself

2012-02-15T03:30:00.000-08:00

I have been having bizarre dreams about dinosaurs. I'd like to tell you that this is unusual, but It's not. Ever since the summer my step-sister and I went to see Jurassic Park everyday at the dollar theater to drool over Jeff Goldblum, I've had weird dreams about T. rex looking in my windows. Just a big, green eye looking in my window.

Recently, the dreams have become more interesting. In my head, dinosaurs have some weird parenting practices and they like my mom's horrible Chinese fungus tea. Also, I am a very nice squeaky toy for baby Tyrannosaurs. Weird as these dreams are, I'm trying to figure out what I'm trying to communicate to myself. So far, I've got:

Stop watching dinosaur documentaries, especially ones that anthropomorphise ancient creatures,
Don't try to outrun a dinosaur,
and, Mom's weird fungus tea diet, from 20 years ago, still creeps me out.

Other than those things, I haven't figured out what they giant watching eye means, or why I let a dinosaur chew on my arm. I also can't figure out the significance of dropping baby dinosaurs into jars (the mommas were doing it, not me). The location of the dream I understand; it was the house I spent most of childhood in. The link to the past, one I can't return to in way, is clear, but the rest of it eludes explanation.

Do you try to analyze your dreams? Does it work, or do you, like me, begin to fear for your sanity? Some dreams make sense in a literal way. Others are fascinating metaphors, but there are some, that make me wonder if maybe, the inside of my head looks like uncooked scrabbled eggs.

“Dreams say what they mean, but they don't say it in daytime language” -Gail Godwin

Valentines

2012-02-14T03:00:00.000-08:00

I have mixed feelings about Valentine's Day. Not the religious or historical aspects, but the trumped up, commercialized idea of romance.

My husband typically gets me Valentine's gifts, partially because he likes to get me things and partially because Valentine's is easier on the budget than the winter holidays. This year, I have my early present, a bottle of rose syrup for drinks that he remembered I mentioned wanting to try (a huge feat for a guy who can barely remember his own birth date), and the unopened mystery package sitting next to me as I write. Whatever it is is, I'm sure it's sweet.

On the other hand, I hate that people forget to be romantic or show their loved ones some attention if there isn't a holiday to remind them. Romance isn't everyday, but it should come up more than once a year.

So, Happy Valentine's Day, but try to remember to spread the romance around a bit. It'll make your relationship and your days rosier.

Swearing

2012-02-13T02:30:00.000-08:00

Swearing like a sailor is a bit of a family tradition. My great grandmother did it as soon as she was baptized. My parents did it. I do it (I really should cut down, but it is very satisfying sometimes to let loose). It's not really any surprise that my kids know a few uncouth words. A week ago, or so, my four year old got mad at his brother while we were leaving the school. He turned away and said "Damn it!" My response was a mild rebuke not to swear, and he ran off. Other mothers were scandalized, but I just shrugged. If that is the extent of the boys bad habits, I'll take it. Whispering and dirty looks aimed my way commenced from a group of women who I take issue with on a regular basis.

These women will condemn me for swear words, but will let their 4th graders play video games featuring illegal war crimes. These are the same mothers who didn't understand why the principal had to step in when kids were pretending to kill their classmates via firing squad on the playground. These are the parents who looked the other way when a disabled girl was pushed out our school and into another, but will raise a fuss about their child being sent home from school with pink eye because it's inconvenient for them. They bemoan the district's funding of character education programs and ESL classes.

I may not be a perfect person (and I will never claim to be in any way other than tongue-in-cheek), and I certainly am not the best parent, but I refuse to be judged for something so harmless as swearing from my kids. I am proud that they express themselves (even when I don't like how they are saying things). I am proud of their compassion and curiosity (my older son is always there ot help someone up or ask how they feel when they come back to class after being sick, and both boys enjoy learning from many different people). I am proud of their integrity (even I can't push them around). A few "naughty" words really don't bother me, especially when they are not directed at hurting anyone, but relieve frustration.

New skills- a lesson about assuming

2012-02-12T03:30:00.000-08:00

My stepdad taught me many skills growing up (how to develop film, the theory behind color mixing, how to tie a fly for fishing, and how to drive), but there are some things he neglected like, how to change a tire and use a drill. My husband does pretty all the assembling, building and car maintenance; the other day, I got mad at him for taking over a task when I asked a question rather showing me how.

He was surprised. Then, switching gears, he began to show me how to properly use his drill.It never occurred to him that I ask him to take care of things like assembling furniture or hanging shelves because I didn't know how. I never realized he didn't know I was lacking the skills. He thought I asked him to do things like this because I don't like to do them.

This all serves as an important reminder about assumptions: they're frequently wrong. Next time I get irritated at my husband for something like this, I'm going to try to remember that we might both be operating under mistaken assumptions, before I get mad.

Faery Godparents for Jane

2012-02-11T03:30:00.000-08:00

Four years ago, a couple of sweet, amazing people entered our lives. A little girl, afflicted with a debilitating and incurable disease, Jane, and her mom. Jane was in kindergarten with my older son, and she brought a light and many lessons about diversity and caring into the lives her classmates. She goes to a different school now, but we miss her and her mom.

Jane is the hospital right now. An accident has injured one of her vital organs. Days of being with her in the PICU have left her mother and grandparents exhausted, which caused Grandma to wreck her car on the way home a few nights ago. My husband and I have offered up our car, dinners, DVDs and moral support to help them cope, but it doesn't feel like enough.

One of their neighbors, who I also know, and I are trying to figure out how to help, and maybe more importantly, how to raise money for Jane's family, to be their Faery Godparents. First off, I'm going to paint a Faery Godmother in honor of Jane and put it on etsy. The procedes will go to Jane. Second, I'm asking you, my thoughtful, creative readers, for any fund raising/ helpful ideas you have. So far, we've talked about dinner deliveries, laundry service and housekeeping. Anything else you come up with would be greatly appreciated.

Self esteem

2012-02-10T03:00:00.000-08:00

Have you noticed that most little kids have better self esteem than us big people? My son is running around the house, getting into things, exploring, trying out new ideas while chanting "I a genius!" Maybe he's onto something.

Stepping up

2012-02-09T03:30:00.000-08:00

In a classroom, when a teacher asks a difficult question, it is often met with silence until one person raises their hand and begins to fill that emptiness. I rarely have a problem being that person. You all know that I get up on soap box here regularly, and I encourage people to push back against policies they don't agree with or see as harmful. Strange that I had a sinking feeling last week when I got an email from the PTA nomination committee at my son's school. They asked me to think about serving on next year's board.

The idea of this terrifies me on several levels. One, I feel very out of place at my son's school; I dress differently, I drive a different type of car, and I tend to get riled up by totally different things than the other parents. My second fear stems from the idea of being that far out into the limelight. I usually work behind the scenes, and this would be very public. My third misgiving was the reasoning behind asking me. I had no idea what reason they had to look in my direction.

I thought about the email for a few days before talking to my husband (who wants me to do this), after his not so gently shove into agreeing, I talked to the woman who emailed me. It turns out that she's trying to get some new attitudes and more sensitive people to get involved.

While all of this will be up for vote, I'm stepping up and trying to help the PTA speak for a greater number of families than it currently does. I'm going to get involved, one way or another, and take some responsibility for creating change in my community. Wish me luck, tact and patience, I think I'm going to need it.

Cutting cords

2012-02-08T03:30:00.000-08:00

I know I've written about cutting the cords that attach us to unhealthy behaviors and ideas. Somebody asked me a question recently that really touched me and I thought I'd share my thoughts.

The question was essentially about cutting cords from people we love or experiences we don't want to completely forget. Cutting cords doesn't negate the love between people or erase experiences. It simply means we are acknowledging the presence of control of our lives and energies that come from outside us in ways that may not be in our best interest. These cords suck away energy and influence us in subtle, not always productive ways. Cutting them allows us to refocus our energies and thoughts, to clear out other influences and to focus on what we think or believe rather than what others want us to.

I have to meditate and cut the cords connecting mke to things daily. I have a bad habit of internalizing everything. The day to day interactions with my husband, children and mother can subtly affect my mood by opening up pathways to doubt or fear. News articles can stir up long shelved memories of bad experiences and sap my energy and ability to be positive. Most of these are unitentional on the part of both parties, but they have a cumulative effect. All the tiny threads and cords can become one huge energy vampire.

Making a conscious decison to take control of your life and energy doesn't require ignoring bad things that happened in the past. It also doesn't mean you diminish love by refusing to allow others to feed of your energy or unduly influence your thoughts.

The Fix It Fairy

2012-02-07T03:30:00.000-08:00

For a couple of years, I have been trying to get my husband to dress up at the Car Repair Fairy for Halloween. His work uniform, a pair of wings and sparkling wrench would be easy and fun to put together. He won't do it, much to my dismay. The idea has come from the fact that he likes to help people.

Saturday required a trip to Emeryville to visit IKEA. We stopped for ice cream on the way home, and in the parking lot, there was a pair of women with their hood opened. Whipping the car into a nearby parking space, he jumped out, laughed and said "The Fix It Fairy will be back".

A few minutes later, he was back. I admire his ability to simply do what needs to be done, to offer help without any expectation of reward and his kindness to complete strangers. While some of my husband's personality traits that are rubbing off on the kids drive me crazy, this is one I hope does. Every time something like this happens, I am so proud and grateful to be part of this man's life.

Driving myself crazy and sharing

2012-02-06T03:30:00.000-08:00

I don't really like to drive. Learning to drive was for my parent's convience more than mine, and even now, when I get behind the wheel, it's almost always to do chores. It makes me nervous to drive around and try to keep track of so many variables.

Thursday, driving was a bit more interesting. It was one of those days when all the bad drivers are out and in a hurry. People making illegal U-turns (that they couldn't actually make) after illegally dropping their kid off for school in a clearly marked "No Stopping" zone with both directions of traffic coming at them at over 40 MPH. The lady who followed me for 1/2 mile honking because I was obeying traffic laws. People driving the wrong way on one way streets. I was cranky about all of this until my mom and husband suggested I just given in to my inner trickster and turn the tables.

Next time somebody wants to honk at me for no good reason, I'm going to tap out "Twinkle, Twinkle" on my horn (for such a stately vehicle, my Jaguar's horn is more like bicycle horn) or smile and wave. Maybe it will teach people not to be such asses without flipping them off.

Poetry and place names

2012-02-05T03:00:00.000-08:00

Job and his sisters, Hidden Valley, Blackpool. All names of places and landmarks. I have a bit of a fascination with names.

I live in the shadow of Mount Diablo, the Devil's Mountain, named when a group of Spanish scouts were started by local Native Americans coming down, painted from their sacred site. I grew up on Apollo Drive. Places like Drake's Bay and Drinking Water Pass tell us a story about what places have been to people. Sometimes they are helpful indicators of a place to rest. Others warn us to stay away, like Spirit Lake or Stinking Water. They tell us who has been their and what those people did (Truckee, Winnemucca, Seattle). Legends attach themselves and let us remember the past. They encompass hopes (Silver City) and dreams and sometimes tragedy, like Wounded Knee. They may illustrate a past landscape like Forest Hill in place that has nary a tree to be seen now.

When I visit a place, I often have a visceral reaction to the name alone. It colors my perception of what I will find their now and in the past. The stories I hear from place names helps keep me curious and excited to explore new places.

Seven dwarfs

2012-02-04T03:30:00.000-08:00

You may have noticed that my writing this week has been a bit scant. Last weekend through Tuesday night, we finished up the move. Thursday was Science Fair at our son's school. In between all of that, I have done my best impression of all seven dwarfs.

Allergies have caused me to alternate between Sneezy, Sleepy and Dopey. The general chaos has left me Grumpy. Doc popped in to help with the science fair project. My broken out skin has made me a bit Bashful, and Happy is here right now to announce the weekend is upon us. No wonder my husband thinks I may have multiple personalities.

Hopefully, I can add a bit of Snow White to the mix and clean up this place. Anybody know where I can find some helpful critters?

Happy Candlemas!

2012-02-02T08:23:00.000-08:00

A happy and blessed Candlemas (Mabon for our friends down South) to all of you!

Magickal Graphics

Material culture

2012-02-01T15:02:00.000-08:00

Material culture is the physical manifestations of culture. it's what we leave behind for future generations to know us by. Moving has put me face to face with my own artifacts, and it's not a pretty picture.

Everything we own is now here in the new place, but it's everywhere. Nothing makes sense and only a few items have found homes. Looking at it all, I feel a bit ashamed. There is a lot of unnecessary stuff in my life. I've saved things long past the point of usefulness.

Now, as I try to put everything away, I am confronted with my past in an undeniable and graphic fashion. I guess it's time for some physical, spiritual and mental housecleaning, so that I can redefine myself in terms of my material possessions.

Spring?

2012-02-01T13:53:00.001-08:00

As much as I like spring, I'm not exactly thrilled to see it this year. It's starting weeks early and we've only had two storms. The resrvoirs are low and the plants are blooming out of sequence.

One of the perks of working in museums has been access to the past. The weather patterns have been changing here, but it's the elderly who know this. Older homes tell a story of mild weather in the past when air conditioners and powerful heaters were unneeded. Citrus trees speak of few frosts. Lush landscaping and drought intolerant plants indicate that water was not a huge problem.

When will there be enough evidence for the doubters to take action? Will there be time to change things, or will we all be forced to try and adapt?

Pet peeve- Hypocrisy

2012-01-31T02:30:00.000-08:00

I must admit that I foster a whole menagerie of pet peeves, but one that annoys me the most is hypocrisy. Lately, it's really been getting on my nerves and tap dancing on it while wearing high heels and singing "At the Copacabana".

It doesn't matter anymore who the hypocrit is. Newt Gingrich (who I despise and have since the Clinton administration) my mother-in-law (don't get me started here) and the obnoxious idiots who tagged along with Occupy SF and decided to smash the windows of the dealership my husband works at (protesting soulless corporations peacefully is all well and good, but destroying the property of a family owned and operated business is idiotic, especially when they have carefully refrained from commenting on the protests and workers were still in the building and had the crap scared out of them) are all equally disdained. If you believe something enough to try to force it on others, you damn well better put your money where your mouth is in my opinion. Saying "do as I say, not as I do" just doesn't cut it. If you want others to behave in particular manner, lead by example. I won't bother to listen to you otherwise, unless I'm itching for a good argument.

That all said, I try really hard to not get too big for my britches. I'm only human and sometimes, I'm not the best person I could be. Falling down, making mistakes, screwing up are all part of life, but repeating mistakes, expecting to be judged by a different scale than everyone else, or refusing to let others be self determinate are all unacceptable, no matter who you are. It demeans us all as individuals, stifles creativity and produces inequality.

Well, that's my rant for today. Cheers!

The new Emergecy Room adventure

2012-01-29T03:30:00.000-08:00

My 8 year old son had a visit to the emergency room the other night. He had severe pain in his groin and lower abdomen and the Kaiser Permanente pediatrician on call wanted him brought in. Since we have to two kids and the ER is no place for a kid recovering from pneumonia, only one parent could accompany Gavin. He picked Dad (for car reasons); it was hard to stay home and wait, but I sent my sweater with Gavin to wrap up in.

For the few hours he was gone, I received regular updates via text message from my husband. Gavin was scared and wanted me to know that he wanted to come home. When they finally arrived here, Gavin had to tell me that he was scared and wanted me. He's so independent most of the time that it was bittersweet to hear his confession. I don't want him to be afraid, but I was grateful that he wanted me to comfort him. My husband told me that Gavin clutched my sweater and buried his nose in it for comfort.

He's on the mend now, but experience left him needing reassurance and physical contact. He has been wrapped in that sweater and reaching for me constantly Kisses, hugs, cuddles and conversations to put things in perspective have all be important parts of his recovery. At some moments, the power of human contact and mother's comfort amaze me.

Urgency to change

2012-01-28T03:00:00.000-08:00

I have been struggling to lose weight for the last 8 years. During the last few weeks, this struggle has changed. After the expereince of sitting with my friend at the hospital, a week or so ago, I have a pressing sense of urgency to take care of my health. Since that night, I have had several other family members and friends call to let me know about their various health concerns and crises; it would appear that I need to be well, not just for myself, but so that I can support them in whatever way they need.

For me, it's often easier to do something for someone else, than it is to do it for me. Suddenly, dealing with my weight and the potential health problems it can cause, has become center stage. Sometimes, we are prompted by the Universe to get ready for something. I can't help but feel a slight panic and incredible sense of foreshadowing. Things are changing, but what my world will look like after these changes is anyone's guess.

For now, I am going to try my best to be healthier, because people are depending on me in a lot of different ways. My depression and weight, which have long been linked in my mind, need to be dealt with. Health and a new lifestyle are important to the people around me. Now that I've acknowledged this sense of urgency and decided to listen to my intuition, rather than telling myself that I'm paranoid, I feel like this time, I can do this. I have to do this, and not just for myself.

Disconnected days

2012-01-27T03:00:00.000-08:00

Do you ever have days where you're disconnected? From time to time, and without the help of medication (my migraine meds make me feel weird), I have days where I am floating through. Things don't bother me (even if they should) and nothing seems real.

While this sensation can be fun, it's also disturbing. I am connected to many things, and suddenly losing the connection is awkward and uncomfortable. Another problem is the sudden crashing back to Earth sensation that inevitably follows. I'm floating, and then I'm suddenly Earthbound. The shift in perspective can be dizzying.

The first thing I try to do to reconnect with my life is to imagine myself rotted to the ground. Roots extend from my feet, deep underground, while the rest of me stretches high into the sky. Sometimes I can focus enough to get this to work, but other times, I just end up waiting for the floating to end.

I'm curious as to whether anybody else has these sort of experiences. Do they teach you something? Do they cause problems? Can you regain your connections through meditation or visualization, or do you wait for things to change? Do you welcome these floating sensations?

The wacky dream (well the part I can polite discuss at least)

2012-01-26T03:00:00.000-08:00

Sunday night, I had some wacky dreams. Airplanes, giant people, kidnapped kids (not mine more a twisted version of Hansel and Gretel) and a visit to a hilltop cemetery with a gorgeous guy. Maybe it was something I ate, maybe it was the emotional upheaval I've been going through, or maybe, it was my brain finally getting some of it's message through my thick skull.

The important part of this dream was the end. I found myself walking up a hill, in the twilight to a cemetery. It was an old one, that had been disused and now was in state of decline. From it's layout and the grave markers (did I mention that I've researched grave markers and I have a weird love of burial places?), I could tell that it was once beautiful and important. Time had passed, however, and nature was encroaching. This beautiful man, who I don't know in my waking life, had his arm around me. Suddenly, I broke down, crying, clutching his shirt and apologizing for sending him away. I realized that he was an important and loved part of my life that I had willingly and viciously thrown away. In the dream, he comforted me, forgave me, and even understood my choices. I woke suddenly with a feeling of loss (I wasn't done with my dream) and some confusion.

Hours later, sitting on the sofa holding my son while he drank a sippy cup of milk and cuddled, I realized who the man was. It was a sudden and amazing realization. He's that other part of myself that I at one point in my life threw away because it wasn't who I thought I wanted to be then. He is the animus, the masculine to mate to the feminine life experience. He is the God to the Goddess, and he is back in my life and he forgives me for trying to get rid of him.

I feel like I am on the road to completing myself. The journey has been alternately fascinating and frustrating, but in the last year, I am starting to see that the scenery is changing and so am I.

The Lorax message lost, and what YOU can do

2012-01-25T02:30:00.000-08:00

As many of you know, I am very politically active and aware. I write letters, sign petitions, vote, research, and try to educate people about the power we, as individuals, have to create change. My personal Facebook page is usually littered with petition shares and news articles. Sometimes, the political touches the spiritual for me, and this is one of those times.

I believe in democracy. I believe that human profit should not sacrifice the rest of the world and I believe that many ideas are worth fighting for. A healthy environment is one of those. I recycle as much of my trash as I am able; I drive as little as possible and I educate myself and family about how to not trash the world. It's not just because I worry about my health; it is because I believe all things to be connected and to hold a touch of magic and sacredness within them. If we destroy ecosystems, animals, and the planet's climate, we are hurting a spiritual being.

I read my kids Dr. Seuss's "The Lorax" to introduce some of these concepts to them. Like many of the late author's works, there is an important and somewhat political message to be found in it. The Lorax speaks for the trees in the book; that is it's central theme. Universal Pictures is making a movie of the book, but when an excited 4th grade class found out that the movie's website is devoid of that message, they started a petition asking Universal to preserve the message of the book. I am thrilled to share this petition with all of you. Not only does it ask Universal to help spread the message of environmental protection that was the point of book they are turning into a movie, this is also a great way to help these children become the leaders and change makers of tomorrow. They are embracing their power as creators of reality and change. They are exercising their democratic muscles and they are taking on a big corporation for sake of the environment. This is a big deal. We can all help them out by signing their petition and sharing their message.

Please help Mr. Wells' 4th grade class persuade Universal to include environemtnal education in the film's website and presentation.

Change.org|Start an Online Petition »

I'm stirring the cauldron again, finally

2012-01-24T03:00:00.000-08:00

Browsing etsy yesterday, I discovered somebody else is using the "Cauldron Keeper" name. I'm a little flummoxed. It's the name I use for my etsy shop, my writing and promotion. I had diligently searched to make sure it wasn't being used before I adopted it. So the question is, do I just let it go (as I have more than enough strife right now), or do I ask them to stop using it (potentially opening up more strife)? Decisions, decisions.

On the upside, I'd like to welcome all the new followers and friends who have joined recently. When I hit 100 followers, I'm throwing a party. I'm thrilled that this has lasted so long and that I have met and interacted with so many amazing people through my blogs. So, thanks!

I'd also like to congratulate Stacy Evans on the publication of her second e-book (Check out "A Simple Life Inspired" for the link to the publisher. I'm really excited for her.

In the coming weeks, barring any funny business, I plan to submit a article for inclusion in an anthology on Pagan birth stories (if I ever get the darn thing edited). I'm planning a big romance feature on my "Cauldron Keeper's Spell Book" blog, and I'm compiling ideas for my future Faery Tale bedroom on Pinterest. As soon as this move is completed, I'm also going to try my hand at mosaic work (to cover up all the dings on my TV bench) and painting a table for the dining area. Then if I'm still feeling brave, I'm going to try to make friends with the scary sewing machine monster.

Move update

2012-01-23T08:43:00.000-08:00

Saturday found us beginning our move. The weather forecast called for rain, but we had several hours of blue skies. We also had an unexpected, but wonderful surprise. Jen, a good friend of ours had volunteered to help us move, but she showed up Saturday with her husband (the only person who doesn't complain about the size and weight of my book collection, because his bigger and heavier), eight year old daughter (who spent most of the day entertaining our 4 year old), adult step daughter (who brought muffins on top of everything),the step daughter's fiancee (he is a total sweetheart) and another pick up truck to help (with another pick up truck and a construction worker's strength). Another friend came later in the day and nearly all of the heavy stuff that I can't help my husband with got moved on Saturday. Sunday, we spent the day trying to put things away and get the kids ready for the week.

Thank you to everyone who wished us well, hoped for clear skies for us or showed up to actually move things. It makes me feel so blessed and grateful.

Mi vida loca- the move

2012-01-20T03:00:00.000-08:00

I pick up the keys to the new apartment today. After months of limbo, it's actually happening. This move will be a bit different for us. We have lots of help. Our wonderful friends are coming to haul boxes, loan pick up trucks and keep my husband and I from strangling each other. I am filled with gratitude for these amazing people who are sacrificing their time and energy to get us settled.

Hopefully, Monday, I will be writing posts from my sunny new kitchen. Have a great weekend and check back on Monday for an update.

The true power of stress- my wake up call

2012-01-19T03:00:00.000-08:00

Monday evening, my cell phone rang. Glancing at the screen, I knew it was my friend T. I was expecting a lighthearted chat or to hear her vent about her husband. When her voice came over the line, I was shocked. She was asking me to take her to the hospital, and she sounded bad. I grabbed my jacket and slipped on my shoes, argued for a 10 seconds with my husband about which of us should go, and ran, literally out the door. A few minutes and several broken traffic laws later, I was admitted to her house by her three year old son.

She was in obvious pain. Her left arm and leg were not responding. A few minutes later, her husband and I had wrestled her into the car, and I literally burned rubber on their steep driveway to get out. The first few minutes at the hospital were chaotic, so much so that I left the car running and the keys in the ignition. Ruling out a heart attack, we settled in for a long night of tests and questions. Next ruled out chest infection, stroke and a few other things. I was scared for my friend, for her children and for mother. She was scared, doctors were concerned, and we knew very little. Twelve long, uncomfortable and frightening hours later, I delivered on my promise to her son: I brought his mommy home and well; the reward was a blinding smile from him. The whole incident was chalked up to the physiological results of stress. It took all of Tuesday to get everybody back on schedule, settled down and things sorted out, but for me, it's been a wake up call.

This whole experience reminded me of few things. First, stress can and does kill. We all have it in various measure. We all have different levels of tolerance, and we all need help from time to time. Second, learning to actively and safely deal with stress is a life skill we all need. A support system, coping mechanisms and and a desire to help oneself can mean the difference between a bad day and a life threatening physical reaction. Third, love comes in many forms. Monday night, holding a hand taped up with intravenous equipment, wiping tears, even dealing with urine samples, answering questions, reassuring people and simply sitting in an exam room for hours ended up being the only way I could show my friend and her family how much I love them. My husband showed his by staying with our children, texting and calling for updates and even skipping out on work the next morning (with factory reps from England calling to ask him to deal with their problems while he was dropping our son off at school). My son showed his by sending his healing energy. My friend's mother, showed hers by smothering us both with kisses when we walked in the door.

If stress is affecting you physically, please consider making lifestyle changes or learning about coping techniques. We can't avoid stress, but we can chose to take control of how it makes us feel. For your sake, and the sake of every person who cares for you. I'm looking into stress relief classes for my friend, and I'm considering going myself. I'm also going to try harder to get into better physical shape, now that I realize how hard all of this was on it. I'm sure you'll hear more about all of this, and I will certainly be sharing the coping strategies my friend and I explore.

Love and blessings.

On a related note, for those of you who know Stacy Evans or read her blog, her husband is in the hospital again with chest pain. Your thoughts, prayers and well wishes would be greatly appreciated for the family.

Stop SOPA and PIPA

2012-01-18T03:00:00.000-08:00

While I will grant that copyright protection is important, SOPA and PIPA are the wrong way to fight it. They could stifle free speech, hurt small businesses and publishers and be abused. So, today, January 18, 2012, I am joining many other people and going dark.

http://americancensorship.org/

Moving

2012-01-17T03:30:00.000-08:00

After nine days of feeling like crap, I'm finally, really starting to heal. This virus took a lot out of me and the exhaustion has been hard to shake. Sadly, the timing has been terrible. Friday, I pick up the keys for our new apartment. Looking around, I feel extremely overwhelmed. The kitchen isn't packed, my bedroom is still half done, and the heavy cleaning hasn't been started. That's all before carrying everything down from the third floor and to the truck.

Usually, when I get massively overwhelmed, I can do one of two things: I can psyche myself up for the task or I can avoid thinking about it so as not to panic. This time, I can't seem to do either. Freaking out is rarely a good way to deal with anything, but it seems to be all I can manage. I'm dragging myself around, trying to pack stuff, but energy is used up very quickly. I'm afraid to try the caffeine route, as I don't want to give myself a set back. For right now, I think I will do what I can and try very hard not to panic.

When you are faced with a huge, seemingly monstrous task, how do you cope?

Remembering those taken from the world

2012-01-16T08:45:00.001-08:00

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. is honored with a holiday today. His work with the Civil Rights Movement and nonviolent protest continues to color our world. Like many other visionaries before him and after, he was taken from the world through violence and before he could complete is work. Take a moment today to think about these visionaries, their message and their impact on the world. As long as we don't forget, they will never leave us.

I'm it. Tag, now your it. No Tagbacks!

2012-01-13T08:48:00.000-08:00

I don't do a lot of these but it can sometimes be a fun way to find new blogs, connect with readers, and learn about each other. Take a look. If I tagged you and you don't want to play, no sweat.

The Rules

1. Post these rules.

2. You must post 11 random thoughts about yourself.

3. Answer the questions the tagger set for you in their post.

4. Create 11 new questions for the people you tag to answer.

5. Go to their blog and tell them you have tagged them.

6. No stuff in the tagging section about 'you are tagged if you are reading this.' blah, blah, blah, you legitimately have to tag 11 people!

11 Random thoughts about me:

1. I don't like juice. Since I've been sick, everybody keeps trying to get me to drink it, which makes me cranky.

2.When I was a little kid, I wanted to be a paleontologist. When I was in high school, I wanted to be a paleontologist again. Somehow, I ended up getting my B.S. in Anthropology, and have done some archaeological work.

3. My stepbrother used to call me the Fountain of Useless Knowledge and The Kissing Ability.

4. I have convinced my four year old that his daddy has to go to work in the morning to push down the moon and push up the sun, before he can fix people's cars.

5. I'm still a little scared of manhole covers. When I was a kid, I saw part of a movie where something reached out grabbed people and dragged them down under the streets. I try not to walk on manhole covers, grates and drains.

6. I rarely have nightmares. I figured out at some point in childhood that I was in control of my dreams.

7. I really want to have a baby girl, but am terrified of having another boy. It keeps me from trying to get pregnant.

8. When I was learning to drive, I ran into a building. The name on the building was "Impact, Intl". My family still teases me about this even though my driving record is better than any of theirs.

9. I'm scared of living to near the ocean.

10. The funniest thing I've watched this week was an episode of Curious George where in he gets sprayed by a skunk, four time.

11. I like sleeping with my kids sometimes. I makes feel connected to them (and warm, since they put off enough heat to be little furnaces).

Questions for me to answer:

1. What is your worst date, and why? I didn't date a lot, so I can't really think of one. Maybe the ROTC ball where I was the only girl at the table, mostly because I only knew one person there (who was busy sucking up), and it was a pity date.

2. How do you like to eat your fruit? By itself.

3. What weird items would I find if I went through your wardrobe? There is the grape purple satin strapless bridesmaids dress, the "Practicing Primitive" tee shirt from my intern days, and a full length black velvet cape.

4. Which animal usually considered a pet scares you the most/do you find the most disgusting? Dogs (especially pitbulls and dobermans- I was bit by one and regularly chased by the other)

5. How would you survive in the wilderness and which skills would you use? I probably wouldn't, actually, I could forage a few plants around here that I know to be edible and I can typically keep track of direction when walking. I guess I could also apply all those anthropology concepts like flint knapping and shelter construction.

6. Is there something you've always wanted to do but been too afraid to try? Hang gliding

7. What is the weirdest movie you ever saw? The three minutes of Zombie Strippers I saw while trying to convince my husband to go to bed.

8. Which god or goddess scares you? Pelee. Since I was very young, I have had vivid dreams about dying in a volcanic eruption.

9. And which one annoys you the most? All those who tell their followers to harass, maim, kill and harm others who don't agree with the follower's point of view.

10. Do you have any annoying habits? Yes, several.

11. Where do you want to be in three years? More at peace with my life.

Who I've tagged:

1. EmKat Creations

2. Celestial Witch

3. Treegold & Beegold

4. A Simple Life Inspired

5. The Wild Witch Cauldron

6. Wicked Faerie Queen

7. Green Witch with Sprinkles

8. Alicia's Attic

9. AntB Pottery (check out her stuff on etsy)

10. Crafty Sandi

11. Pagan By Design

Questions for you to answer:

1. What is your biggest pet peeve?

2. How did you find out Santa Claus/Easter Bunny/ Tooth Fairy wasn't quite legit?

3. Favorite toy as a kid?

4. If you could go back in time, which person would you most like to shake and say "What were you thinking?!"

5. Chicken or the egg?

6. If you could read people's thoughts, would you want to?

7. If you could turn someone into a toad who would it be?

8. Fantasy vacation?

9. What is the most romantic thing you've experienced?

10. If you could create your own society what would it be like?

11. What book would you most love to see brought to life (through movie making or literally)?

I function!

2012-01-12T09:35:00.000-08:00

Saturday afternoon, after rushing the wee son to the doctor to have his antibiotic allergy assessed, and then spending some time with friends who kindly watched our older son while we were at the doctor, I began to shiver. By 9 o'clock Saturday night, I was running a high fever (104.9) and ached everywhere. Yesterday, I was seen by the doctor who could do nothing for me. It's been not fun. Four days of high fever have left me weak, tired, muddled and a bit dehydrated.

So, sorry for the absence, but anything I wrote after Monday afternoon wouldn't have made any sense anyhow. I hope you are all healthy and happy. Hopefully, I will be resuming a normal schedule over the weekend.

Cheers!

"I Would Be True"

2012-01-10T03:30:00.000-08:00

I thought I'd share this with you. It's a portion of a hymn, but it also appears in Hazel Felleman's "Poems That Live Forever". I think these two stanzas are a great way to live my life. I read it to my son recently, and he really enjoyed it.

I would be true, for there are those who trust me;
I would be pure, for there are those who care;
I would be strong, for there is much to suffer;
I would be brave, for there is much to dare;
I would be brave, for there is much to dare.

I would be friend of all—the foe, the friendless;
I would be giving, and forget the gift;
I would be humble, for I know my weakness;
I would look up, and laugh, and love and lift.
I would look up, and laugh, and love and lift.

-Howard A. Walter

Polka Dots

2012-01-09T03:30:00.000-08:00

I have to admire my younger son. As he is recovering from pneumonia, he has developed a "sensitivity" to amoxicillin. Now he is covered, head to toe, in red polka dots. Through all this, he's been pretty cheerful. Being itchy is never fun, and being itchy while recovering from illness is downright awful, but he has laughed and played and joked through it all. HE even thinks his polka dots are cute.

Sunday, I spent the entire day sweating through a 104 degree fever, and sleeping. My attitude, when I was awake, never approached the level of cheerful, my little guy has shown. Now that I'm coherent, I'm pretty awestruck by what a trooper he is.

Fitness Challenge update

2012-01-08T03:00:00.000-08:00

Little Miss Muffet. Little Miss Muffet sat on her tuffet /
And boy what a big tuffet she had!
If you're feeling insecure, just sit next to her
And then you won't feel quite so bad. Thank you
-Dot from Animaniacs

I'm a little late with getting into gear for the 2012 Witchy Fitness Challenge. My only defense is a sick kid. Isnce getting out to walk is out of the question until his pneumonia is cleared up, I'm focusing on researching a few new ways to get moving and some healthy, fast recipes. One of Pinterest boards is full of inspiration to get moving, and when I'm feeling lazy, I peek and remind myself that I need to move (you can look me up under my actual name, Mandy Wells).

I'm also weaning myself back off the caffeine and back into drinking water. What can I say, I'm weak in the face of Diet Pepsi. I've found a new tea to drink in the evenings (when I start gravitating to the soda)- it's Mountain Rose Herbs' Fairy Tale blend that I add rose petals to. It's so cheerful to look and smells nice!

We'll be moving in 2 weeks (finally) and the new aprtment is on the ground floor, so I might actually exercise without the fear that the neighbors will complain about the noise. It also has a little garden space, so I can burn some calories digging under the beds and planting.

Hopefully, my the end of next week, I'll walking again in the mornings and maybe be trying a new Wii game. Hope everybody else is excited and full of energy.

Sleeping babies and other sources of magic

2012-01-07T03:00:00.000-08:00

Holding my niece-let (my friend's daughter who will know my as Tia Mandy) on Christmas Eve, she fell asleep in my arms. It was the prefect reminder of what I love about babies, children and motherhood, and it brought me a great deal of peace.

In the day to day stress of being a mother, I often forget about the magical and special delights that come with the responsibilities. Holding a warm, snuggling, sleeping child who is perfectly relaxed and trusting against your heart is one of those. The warm scent of clean baby hair against your nose is another. A few days after this moment, my four year old son started to feel bad. At night, he slept between my husband and I in our bed and pressed his feverish face against my neck, looking for comfort. When I shifted him slightly, so that he was at a less awkward angle, he opened glassy eyes in the dark and smiled at me. Before he drifted off, he whispered, "Mommy". Again, I remembered why this role is so important to me. Another reminder came from my 8 year old son the next day, he sat patiently and listened while I read his some poetry. His eyes lit up with interest. The very next day, he searched through the book of poems to find one to read to me, and I nearly cried at the sweetness.

Days have passed since these magical moments, but the reminder lingers. Magic can be found everywhere, but in children most of all. Simple pleasures and powerful magics are delivered regularly to parents, but it is so easy to forget them with all of the daily tasks that need completed. I hope you all get the opportunity to feel a bit of this magic that children spread.

Not a young woman, not middle aged either

2012-01-06T03:00:00.000-08:00

The archetype of the triple goddess gets a lot of attention in pagan and New Age writing. It's a powerful image, but I sometimes wonder if our modern lives are a bit out of touch with it. I'm 32. Young by some standards, middle aged by others. I've been the maiden/the unmarried woman/ the young woman. I'm a mother now, but at some point, I will pass into this grey area where I'm not quite a crone, but no longer a mother first of all. To be honest, it's a little scary and perplexing, kind of the same way the transition into motherhood was.

Do we, modern pagans, need to rethink the archetype or is more guide lines? Is that awkward age something all women have experienced, and it's a great secret and initiation into the cronehood?

~Magickal Graphics~

Sin and Paganism- my opinion

2012-01-05T03:00:00.000-08:00

Sin is a big deal in the Abrahamic traditions. Lots of things not to do. For me, sin is kind like the boogie man; a story meant to scare you into behaving a certain way, but ultimately not really anything in essence. That's not to say that I think people should go around follow their own conscience with impunity, because I don't. Some people don't have a strong or even fully functional conscience, so morals, ethic and laws are created by societies to keep things running smoothly. It's hard to keep society running if everyone did exactly as they please and it's much easier to agree beforehand on a few ground rules than to deal with the aftermath of chaos.

I believe that life is precious. All life, plant,s animals, people, but nature has a reason and a purpose for everything which means that some life is sacrificed to feed other life That's just the way things are. I will respect the animals I eat, but I won't stop eating them anymore than I would stop eating plants. I don't like the idea of killing for sport because it's wasteful and disrupts the balance of nature. I haven't killed a person, thus far, but that's not to say that I wouldn't because, really, I don't know. Should that happen, I would fully expect some sort of balancing to occur in this life or the next. I'd don't lie because I don't like being lied to. I don't steal because I know how hard I work for my stuff. I keep the few promises I make, and I try not to damage others through my actions. As a realist, I know that my choices can have far reaching unintended consequences, so I try, really hard to minimize that, but ti doesn't keep from holding onto an ideal as a goal.

I live my life with knowledge that in nature, everything is connected, everything cycles, and that no actionis without it's consequence. Harm none is a little too far reaching for me to achieve, so I live by harm as little as possible and expect to see what good and bad I do come back to me in one form another, because everything is connected.

The Cave of Forgotten Dreams

2012-01-04T03:00:00.000-08:00

A couple of weeks ago, my husband turned on a documentary to watch late in the evening. I wasn't intending to watch, but when I happened to glance at what he was watching, I was sucked in. My children had fallen silent and mesmerized. The film was called The Cave of Forgotten Dreams, and it was about a cave full of Ice Age art recently (relatively, remember I've worked as an archaeological assistant, so recent tends to be a funny word for me)discovered in France.

For many, many years, this cave had been hidden from humankind, preserving the art, fossils and artifacts inside it. In 1994, it was discovered by a trio of cave explorers. Inside is a beautiful and powerful collection of images dating back tens of thousands of years. We, as modern humans can never know for certain what the significance of the cave was to the people who created and used it, but we can assume that it was very important to them, as a great deal of time and effort was put into the art. From other evidence of human activity in the cave, men, women and children are also represented. The art is incredibly realistic, and depicts many creatures no longer walking the Earth.

It is during experiences like watching this film, or handling artifacts, that I truly appreciate our human ancestors, who were very much like us. Anatomically, they were us. They lived through the seasons, interacted with others, watched the suns rising and moon's rising, raised families, suffered misfortunes and sickness, celebrated life and eventually, died and returned to the Earth. No matter how different the world looked then, we are connected- past and present and future- through the things, the ideas, and the relationships we leave behind. In the case of the people of Chauvet- Pont D'Arc, we know through their art, which allows us to really see, in a rare, rare way, what their world looked like.

For me, I feel a sense of connection with one of the many artists of the cave, a man about 6 feet tall, whose name we will never know. The connection is through a physical trait we both lived with, a crooked little finger, and a desire to share our worldview with others. It comforts me to know that deep down, under the differences of culture and environment, humans can still connect with each other. The artwork of the cave haunts my dreams, and I am certain the images from the film will live within me for a long time.

If you're interested, here are the links to the film and to the website:

The Cave of Forgotten Dreams

Chauvet Cave

2011 is out with a bang, 2012 is coming in with a "meh"

2012-01-03T03:00:00.000-08:00

It's been a crazy couple of weeks- holidays, meltdowns, illness, interrupted travel plans. 2011 went out in a fit of insanity and chaos. I'm not sure when I'll find my bearings again.

The holiday season kicked off with putting in an offer to buy a condo around Samhain; it fell apart just before Solstice. The weeks between Samhain and Thanksgiving were filled with a butt kicking virus, end of the school term, parent-teacher conference and looking for another place. Since then tempers have been flaring and plans have been in a constant state of flux. We got through Solstice and Christmas alright until my four year old got sick; he has pneumonia and will be recovering for a while. On top of all this, we really HAVE to move now, which will likely bollix up our house purchase timeline until at least June. I've got my grouch on, for certain.

Winter is a difficult time for me. My depression tends to deepen and the cold, wet, rainy weather makes it difficult to get out and do things. Taxes annoy me and the pace of life is not even or regular. I'm trying to hold onto myself until spring comes and the newness of it washes away some of darkness. I'm drinking a flower and herb tea blend to remind me that winter doesn't last forever. I've joined Pinterest and am pinning things that make me happy.
And I've picked out a few things to purchase for spring. This time of year tends to be about treading water for me.

Do you get the winter blues? How do you cope with the down parts of life?

Bad, bad day

2012-01-02T03:00:00.000-08:00

Do you ever have those days when you're in a rotten mood and it's lovely? I'll admit it, sometimes, I like to be a crumudgeon; there is a satisfaction to be found it making everybody else run and hide when you walk in the room. These are the days that I identify with the villians and listen to angry music. I fantasize about sticking my hand out the car window and smacking all those spandex covered butts belonging to the bicyclists. I come up with nasty things to do to people who annoy me (in my defense, I rarely carry through with them). Depending on how awful I'm being, my kids may laugh or hide in their room.

My two favorite bad mood songs are "Despicable Me" and "The Marvelous, Mad Madam Mim". Enjoy the naughtiness!

Goals for 2012

2012-01-01T03:00:00.000-08:00

I've made my list of goals for the year. I'm sharing some of it so you can all keep me honest (accountability works well on me). This list isn't exhaustive and to be honest, I've never completed more than half of my New Year's resolutions, ever, but intention can lead to progress if we let it.

I will submit an article for publication and stop being afraid that nobody will like it.
I will try to organize small pieces of my life at a time. Starting with my desk.
I will exercise more, even if it means playing preschool fitness games with the kids on Wii and walking a bit farther when I pick the kid up from school.
I will try to be the change I wish to see, even when things look like they are going the wrong way.
I will spend more time with friends when I'm blue, rather than wallowing.
I will try new things more often.
I will try to fold the laundry when it comes out of the dryer instead of leaving it in a pile on the chair.
I will invite magic and fun into my life.

Whatever you resolve to do this year, I hope you accomplish it with grace and ease.

Happy New Year!

2011-12-31T03:30:00.000-08:00

I wish you all a happy new year! Let this be the year of positive change, personal growth and magic. Many blessings to you and yours.

Finding an upside

2011-12-30T03:30:00.000-08:00

As you may know, I struggle with a form of clinical depression. One of the ways I have learned to cope with a myriad of daily downers, is to find an upside, no matter how strange or silly. It can serve as a good reminder that good and bad depends on perspective and that nothing is all misfortune.

A couple nights a go, I found an upside to migraines. Weird, right? I get migraines with visual disturbances (hallucinations, if you will). While I was lying in bed in the middle of the night and contemplating getting up and finding my medication, I noticed that my visual disturbances are really rather pretty. Closing my eyes, I lay there and enjoyed the colors and movements. It's like watching an abstract watercolor painting that moves on it's own with pixie dust explosions. After a while, I got up, added more ice to my ice pack and took a pill. Then I went back to watching the artwork only I can see until I fell asleep.

While concentrating on the beauty of what I could see, I lost sight of my nausea and pain. It was a great reminder that everything has an upside, if we look hard enough for it.

Curiosity and the cat

2011-12-29T03:00:00.000-08:00

I really should find a way to rein in my curiosity, but for now, I'm going to share a selection of my most burning questions.

What was the woman in the red bathrobe looking for in her neighbor's trash can?
How do cities come up with street names?
Why do my children refuse to sleep at night?
What is the volume of a shitload in cubic feet?
Do the winter joggers realize they look like running fluff balls (not that I'm complaining, because it amuses me, a lot)?
Why do little boys think that stinkiness is funny?
Why does a baker's dozen contain 13?
How come kids stop doing cute things when the camera turns on?
Do you think people learned which plants were edible by trial and error or by observing what the animals ate?

Filling in the gaps

2011-12-28T03:00:00.000-08:00

You might think it's a bit weird, but I am somebody's tia. I'm as Northern European as you can get, I speak very little Spanish and I have no sisters (at least genetically). Somehow, along the way of life, I picked up a whole other family.

This family includes a sister (somehow born on a different continent to different parents), her husband, her mother (a sweet, grandmotherly soul), a niece and a nephew. They fill in the gaps of my life, and I love them for it. Without them, I would not get the same opportunity to be part of another set of children's lives. I wouldn't get to spoil them and teach them. I wouldn't have a friend who understands where I'm coming from (because she would react the same way) when I gripe, and I would miss this connection to another a woman.

For some of us, our family is a ready made cohesive unit that we are born into. For the rest of us, we create as we go. Whatever type of family you have, I hope you are enjoying the holiday season with them and making the most of these connections and interactions.

Are we done yet?

2011-12-27T10:10:00.000-08:00

After so many days of celebration, I think I may be holidayed out. This is exhausting! One more to go and I can concentrate on move 1/2. Yes, I will be moving twice this year. Fun, right? Ah well, c'est la vie. In the mean time, I will be heading to Nevada for New Years and then back home to get the kids ready for school.

There is something comfortable and comforting about the non-holiday times of year. When all we have to focus on is everyday life. After this holiday season, I'm thinking some quiet, dull days sound lovely. I actually think that what I miss most about the less celebratory times is the predictable rhythm. We get up, do our tasks, come home, make dinner, and go to bed (which when edited this way sounds peaceful, instead of the actual chaos, but that's okay). We have a structure and pattern to follow with very few surprises.

I guess what I'm getting at is that the everyday can be celebrated, too. After the chaos and movement and excitement of the holidays, it's nice to go to back to a less dramatic time of year. I might even get a chance to read a book or paint some more, and I 'll certainly have more time to write.

2011-12-23T20:34:00.000-08:00

I got a bit flaky yesterday and forgot to post. Sorry. I was spending a nice day with husband and sons. For the first time in a very long while, we got into the car and just explored. Back roads too us nearly to the ocean. It is amazing to see a place you know from another angle.

Stopping at a small park, we had some fun with another family. Tow little girls and their grandmother were enjoying the park and sunshine. The littlest one was just toddling. The older girl was the same age as my younger son. The little girl was so amused by my husband running around and playing on the playground equipment that she started following him everywhere. It was adorable. She also got my 8 year old to hold her on the teeter totter.

Her sister got a new experience. My husband had found a ladybug, and i took to it show the girls. I love watching children experiencing things for the first time. It's a a beautiful thing. For this four year old girl, this was the first time she'd ever held a lady bug and she was utterly enchanted. When she was ready to go, she found a leaf for it and set it free, smiling all the while.

Sometimes, the interactions we have with perfect strangers can be gifts of wonder and beauty. They are opportunities to show kindness, to share experiences, and to make memories. I hope you get the opportunity to connect with others during this magical time of years.

A Winter Solstice Wish

2011-12-22T03:30:00.000-08:00

~Magickal Graphics~

On this long night, may you be blessed with whatever you need. I am so happy that you are in my life!

Preparing for celebration

2011-12-21T03:30:00.000-08:00

Tonight we'll light the candles for the first time and turn on the holiday music. For a few minutes after the kids go to bed and before I have to go wrap gifts, I fully intend to sit quietly and enjoy the cold and the darkness of winter.

I sometimes find myself missing the noise and drama of my former family holidays, but at other times, I enjoy the quiet of my current celebrations. I can't go back in time and re-experience the past and I can't change my family. It's taken time to get to the point where I no longer cry for what was. Now there is a twinge of longing, but I also love the subtly of the holidays in my home. There is time to reflect, to just be without expectation. It's not a production like my mom put on, it is a connection to my Gods. Flickering candlelight bouncing off glittered decorations remind me of ice and snow. The warmth of my husband and children cuddled up with me gives me time to appreciate the warmth and comfort that family can be. The darkness helps me appreciate the light. Music connects memories with current moments.

Tonight, I will honor my memories and the labor that goes into creating a celebration. I will stop to feel the stillness and exhaustion. I will admire my handiwork. I will embrace the dark.

Tomorrow, I will celebrate the past, present and future. I will laugh and play and eat. I will toast the darkness and the rebirth of the sun. I will honoring the Mother Goddess giving birth and the dying Winter King I will celebrate the newborn Sun Child. Gifts wil be exchanged and laughter will ring through my home.

Names and power

2011-12-20T08:52:00.000-08:00

I've been watching "Once Upon A Time", as I think I've mentioned before. One thing that is intricately woven into the fabric of the story is a very old idea, that names have power. Remember Rumpelstiltskin? Depending on the version you read, he is destroyed by the power of his name. There are other fairy tales that hint at the power of names: some stories advise us to keep our names to ourselves should we meet the Other Crowd. There are cultures where true names are a tightly held secret. Names for many are auspicious or damning. They carry a weight of their own by tying a heritage, history and ideas to a living, breathing creature.

I've never been particularly fond of my name. It's alright, but there were a whole bunch of Amandas in school. In part, my mom chose the name from an old country song by Don Williams. It is derived from the Latin word for "love", and until the late 1970's, it hadn't been in vogue since Elizabethan England. Over the years, I've transitioned between Amanda and Mandy. These days, Amanda is pretty much used only on legal documents. Mandy is less formal, more open. It's also the name that I tend to respond to more quickly.

I know some Wiccans and Pagans chose a craft name, and I can't bring myself to do it. First, self chosen names come with a different sort of baggage. How do you choose a name for yourself? It's hard enough picking one for a child or pet that can't talk back, much less for yourself. Second, many of the names I've seen are just silly (have you seen the joke about choosing a craft name, that's exactly my point here it is). Third, nothing has called me to it. I use the Cauldron Keeper title here, but it's more a job description based on a string of meditations. I don't consider it my name and think there are many, many others who are also cauldron keepers/tenders. It also makes it a little harder for parts of my life to mingle. One day I might not care, but for now, I need a bit of privacy.

Some people and their name go together well: complementing, explaining. One of brother's is named Keith. It is often interpreted to mean "of the battle field", and it seems to have been a bit prophetic. He has long been at odds with the world. I've known some Sarahs who absolutely live up to the name "princess". Other people, not so much. They seem at odds with their names.How about a Charisma who was incredible abrasive, a cowarly Leo, or a Joy who was sour?

Do you believe names have power? Does yours suit you, or would you just assume change it? Has it been a process? How about craft names: buy into it or think it's goofy or something in between? Is your true name a secret or out in the open?

Failure in perspective- lesson from a Christmas party

2011-12-18T20:21:00.000-08:00

Sorry I missed Sunday's post. I had a mild hangover and a friend's play to get to, and couldn't squeeze in a post. I hope this make up for it though, a picture of me and my husband, dressed up (happens less frequently than blue moons), and a story from the party.

As I wrote on Saturday, my husband and I drove the hour and a half to Redwood City to attend his company Christmas party. As much as I whined, I had a great time. I'd forgotten how much I like one of his coworker's wives. We chatted and drank and laughed through the night. I even went home tipsy (a very rare thing for me to do). The evening even held a good life lesson.

While at the party, the 92 year old company founder gave a short speech, which was a good life lesson. I thought I'd share to give you all a bit of perspective. This man, Mr. Q, commented that he'd had a great life and that it doesn't matter when he'll go because he'd done so much. He also said that he was grateful for his failures. This may be an odd thing to be grateful for, especially since the failure he chose as an illustration cost him $27,000,000. But, for that $27,000,000 he has done something very few people can say. He created and built his own car line. It didn't make any money and they are not well known vehicles, but he did, while meeting everyone of the U.S. vehicle safety regulations. It was also touching to see people jump up to get him a chair to sit in and speak and eyes tearing up at the thought of him passing away. Some of his employees have worked for him for decades (one man for over 40 years, one of the secretaries for 37). Whether I agree with his business practices or political views, I cannot deny that he has created a lasting legacy that includes my family and will influence many lives for much longer.

It struck me that this man, who has raced cars and run races, built many successful businesses, and broken records, chose to speak about his failures as a way to gauge his successes with such gratitude. So, next time you feel like you've screwed something up badly, think about this. What did it cost you? What did you learn? How does it compare in the grand scheme of things? Is there anything in that failure that you can be proud of or grateful for? I suddenly feel like my biggest mistake is rather small all things considered, don't you?

Whining

2011-12-17T05:30:00.000-08:00

I've waxed and polished, plucked and poured, dyed and strapped and pulled. Next on the list involves glue. Goddess, I hate dressing up for events where I am only being judged as a supportive spouse. Tonight is the company Christmas party, and I'm sick to my stomach. I've got to smile and bite my tongue and try not to irritate anyone. Sounds fun, yeah?

I'm done whining now. If my hair turns out okay, I'll post a picture tomorrow. Thanks for letting me whine.

Worship?

2011-12-16T03:30:00.000-08:00

I confess to being a bit shy of the word "worship". It implies a subservience and vulnerability that I do not feel in regards to the Divine. The Divine personalities and me do not operate on the same level- their existence expands in all directions beyond mine. I believe them to be parts of the whole of existence, just as I am. I never presume to think they owe me anything and I am not afraid to talk to them about anything.

My relationship with the Divine is less formal than some Pagans I know. I don't feel bound to ritual (I used to do them frequently, but these days, I don't seem to need the structure) and I feel their presence in many ways. I ask them for help sometimes, and sometimes, I get an answer. They have never asked more than I can give, but on a few occasions I had to dig pretty deep to meet the challenge. There are times when they ask me to some task: pay attention to something, help someone, write about a topic, expend some energy. Our relationship is not one sided or one dimensional. It is a growing, breathing thing that is constantly changing. The Gods and Goddesses (the Divine) teach me, inspire me, and watch over me. They do not do for me. If I ask their help with a situation, I am already ready to put in a considerable amount of work to get where I want to be. Their help, at times, in little more than a gentle sense of reassurance as I struggle. Other times, it is an obstacle cleared from my path.

My relationship with the Gods is complex. I am the student that is being shaped. I am the child being raised. I am the clay being molded. I am not a servant or a slave, who is capriciously bound to their will. They do not exist to fulfill my every desire. They are not absolute and unchanging- they are a reflection of an eternity of experiences and situations. They change as we do, but they are not us. In times past they may have asked humankind for a different sort of relationship, but now, they ask us to follow our own hearts. Worship if you are called to it, but don't be afraid or demanding or completely subservient.

A retrospective look at this year's projects

2011-12-15T03:00:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, I have to pull away from writing and create something that I can touch. Lately, I've been painting, drawing and crocheting quite a bit; it's make me feel good. I thought I'd share some of this year's projects. Some of these were created as gifts. Most are just for me. A couple are available on etsy. This isn't an exhaustive list of what I've been up to, but it's nice to look back and say "Hey, I actually completed some projects this year". Enjoy!

Guardian Angel holding the ball of Goodness

I'm not into angels, but I thought I would make one anyhow. It'll be going on etsy soon. My eight year old decided that she was holding a ball of goodness to give to children. Note to self- cheap canvas is often cheap for a reason.

Faery Godmother

I like this one. I wish I'd done the wings a little different, but she's part of my Faery Godparent Project. This one is on etsy for sale. The glowing heart was fun to do.

Rebirth

I painted this on New Years Day 2011. I had found an unused canvas in a closet and painted while the family watched a movie. I find this to a be a good symbol of me.

Halloween

I spent $0 on this year's Halloween costumes, and everybody was happy. The little guy wanted to be a kitty, so I crocheted him ears and tacked them onto a hat. He also had a crocheted tail tied on like a belt. I dressed as myself.

The ever-changing cork board

This board has been re-purposed and repainted a few times. This was fun, and got rid of the ghost radishes that kept coming through the paint.

A friend on Temple Illuminatus sent me this poem and I liked it so much I put it over this painting. I like the idea of magic in the kitchen. When I finally get moved, It will hang in the kitchen.

Cauldron of Transformation

I'm obsessed with cauldrons right now. I often fixate on a image. This was the first version of the painting above, until it ended badly. I sanded and painted over it to create this one. The blue and violet flames were inspired by one of Karen Pallas' blog posts.

Yule wreath

This is my Winter Solstice pentacle wreath. The instructions are on the Cauldron Keeper's Spell Book blog, if you want to know I how I did it. Nothing is glued in place, so it gets rearranged each year, which is fun.

May Pole

I made miniature May Pole this year (apartments aren't a great place for full size ones). The only difficult part was getting my husband to drill the base for me. Directions are also on CKSB (check April 2011).

The Pregnant Moon

This is the painting from Hades. It looks okay, but I was tearing my hair out trying to complete it. The background was supposed to be blue, the woman a blonde, the moon was not originally going to be glittered (it hides a big oopsie) and three started as grass. I wanted one thing and the painting decided it wanted to be something else.

Storytellers and their stories-Part IV

2011-12-14T03:30:00.000-08:00

The Grave Digger's Evening

My husband used to love to tease me about coming from "circus folk". Yes, my great grandfather was a tight rope walker for a bit, but she spent most of his life cutting lumber, so it's a big exaggeration. Couple with some other family anecdotes, including the one about my great grandmother's baptism, my husband laughs and says we're just weird people, and that he is perfectly normal. My response to him is always- "Normal is just plain weird, "cause nobody's normal", or some variation.

One New Year's my husband was teasing me and his grandmother, who I will tell you is very proper, upper class, educated and sometimes stiff, heard the conversation. I'd don't know why she decided to get involved, but it certainly turned the table on my husband, and it uncovered a sense of humor that was drier than expected and just a tiny bit mean. She told this story with a smile on her face, much to my husband's chagrin.

"Your great-grandfather, Millie's father, (my late father-in-law's maternal grandfather) was gravedigger. He used to come home in the evening and put on a three piece suit to relax. I always thought that was strange."

My husband still teases me about being circus folk, but most of our friends and family agree that the gravedigger and his suit is much stranger than a tight rope walker who became a lumberjack. It's also a good reminder about stones and glass houses. It's funny what stories people keep in their heads.

Storytellers and their stories Part III

2011-12-13T03:30:00.000-08:00

A dear friend had a terrible accident a few years ago at his home. Recently, he told me that while he lay on the ground waiting for help, he had what could be considered a vision. Maybe it was just a random firing of neurons in crisis, but the image is haunting.

I saw hundreds, thousands of native people caught and washed away by a huge flood.

As we sat by a fire under the deepening dusk, he asked if I thought he was crazy. I won't discount anything he saw or felt, I wasn't there, but I can see where that vision made sense, on one level.

This part of California had been intensely utilized by Native Americans. The weather is rather mild, not given to hard freezes during the winter months; edible plants of many, many types can be found here. Fish and game were abundant and the landscape gives up many items that can be used to create shelter. Creeks crisscrossed the land (most are now channelized but still here in one fashion or another). These are the same traits that lured first the Spaniards, and later Mexican, and European settlers to the area. Mount Diablo overlooks this valley and is known for being sacred to many native cultures of the surrounding area. The San Francisco Bay protects the land from many intense storms. When the Europeans first came here, it was in no way an barren wasteland waiting to be conquered. Many people of many societies made their homes here. The evidence can be seen by the sheer numbers of Native American graves found underfoot. For millenia, this was their homeland.

Disease and violence wiped out most of the Native population of California, which was rather large. Some experts estimate that upwards of 96% of the population was decimated. For the people who lived it, the white man (and let's be very frank here, it was nearly all men until after the 1850's) must have been exactly like a mammoth flood washing away the First Nations.

Storytellers and their stories Part II

2011-12-12T08:34:00.000-08:00

The Klamath Remembrance of the Mount Mazama Eruption

My one and only trip to see Crater Lake, the remains of this story, was when I was a child. My grandmother, aunt and I were returning from a funeral in Oregon. I had strep throat and we stopped at Crater Lake briefly. The whole thing is a blur of not feeling well and throwing up grape soda. But I remember the lake being incredibly beautiful and being amazed at the size of the volcano it once was.

The storyteller was a man who is half Klamath (an Native American group who lives along the border of California and Oregon near the Klamath River) and half not. He is a sociologist, but he teaches about NAGPRA (Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act) some of the time. One of the things he studies is the violence caused by denying other people's worldviews. We exchanged several interesting stories during that semester, mostly because we share a common link to some rural areas of Oregon (He and my mom are close enough in age and grew up in close enough proximity to have had their schools play football against each other). This story, however, was related to the group during class one day. It was an illustration of a different sort of knowledge that had been denied or scoffed at my scientists and Euro-Americans as superstition, until somebody's research proved the Klamath oral tradition was absolutely correct. Mount Mazama is the name given to the volcano before it exploded and then collapsed in a pyroclastic eruption (the type of eruption seen at Mount St. Helens in 1980) around 7000 years ago. While anthropologists have recorded other versions of this event from members of the Klamath people, this was related to me personally. It excludes the religious aspects of the tale and focuses largely on the history. It goes something like this:

The ancestors of the people who are now the Klamath witnessed the eruption that destroyed Mount Mazama and created the caldera that later became the Lake. Becasue they lived to the south, they were spared from the cloud of ash and poison that spewed forth. Their neighbors, who lived to the east of the mountain died as the wind carried the cloud eastward.

This story lingers for me, in part because of the recent nature of Mount St. Helen's eruption. The image of the pyroclastic cloud, filled with scorching ash and poisonous gases that devastated so much area is one we can see in full color. But there is also a piece of me who "sees' the death of so many people in a tragedy that occurred so long ago, but that has been remembered because of it. I can feel the sense of relief at being spared, and yet, there was also probably sadness, too. And the ever present knowledge that it could happen again. There is also beauty in the image. Volcanic eruptions are powerful reminders of the power of nature, nothing stands in it's way. When I look at that lake, I see a beautiful, powerful place that sleeps for now, and I remember that. The story was told with both quiet intensity and a personal meaning. It was powerful reminder that science sometimes misses the obvious by limiting possibility.

Storytellers I've known and they stories they tell- Part 1

2011-12-11T10:07:00.000-08:00

I've had several stories that were told to be at various points in my life floating around in my head and heart for weeks. I've wanted to share them, but it was hard to find a reason or even a framework for telling these random tales. I'm going to relate them over a few days with a little background or dissection, if I can manage. Maybe I'll find a point as I go, but no promises. I also invite you to share the stories that linger in your heart. Leave them in comments, or email them to me. I am a collector of tales, after all. Within me live fragments of many histories, many people.

Stories serve many purposes; they can be didactic or entertaining. Some are oral histories or memories related to another. Many are kernels of truth surrounded by embellishment. It is likely that they are humankind's oldest entertainment. Stories touch us in a number of important ways, but that power is magnified by the storyteller.

We all have stories that we hold onto for a variety of reasons. These can be reminders of who we are, were we come from. They can be cautionary tales, or they can simply paint an indelible image on our psyches that touch something deep and strange within our hearts.

Parents are often the first storytellers of our lives. My mother told me many stories, but a few have really stuck in my memory. One of my favorites is the story of my great-grandmother's baptism. Her family had come to the West as part of the Mormon wagon trains, but later settled in Oregon. The story goes like this:

"Grandma was baptized in river. It was cold and when they dunked her, her long hair got wet and icy. Her wet hair slapped her back when they stood her back up, and she yelled, "Jesus Christ", and they had to baptize her again."

The story is far funnier if you know the back story. My great grandmother lived in a very small town in Northern Oregon. Even if she wasn't baptized anywhere near her 8th birthday (as is Mormon custom), rivers in mountainous areas, especially in the Northern latitudes, tend to be darn cold year round. My great grandmother was also a character (this is the same great grandmother who used to threaten to run through missionaries): she got pregnant out of wedlock in the late 1920's, married a logger who was once a tight rope walker in circus, and once danced on the table after one of her grandkids fed her pot brownies. When she was in the hospital after a stroke, a nosy neighbor called in the Mormon missionaries to give her a blessing that she would have never consented to if she could have spoke up. Through the blessing, she gave me the dirtiest look that plainly said "Why the HELL aren't you doing something about this?" She loved to watch wrestling on TV, once smacked my mom at the dinner table just because she thought it was funny. When the grandkids were bad, she'd threaten them with a "backhanded wrap around the door knob", which none of us ever figured out what was, but it was sufficiently frightening to deter bad behavior. Not exactly the sorts of behavior one would expect from a woman born in 1910, is it?

Whether the story is true or not doesn't matter. It illustrates an independent spirit, fun and a humanity that is easily lost when relating historic tales. It has served as vibrant reminder throughout my life, that I came from somewhere, that I was and am connected to this funny, loving, quirky woman who didn't always do things the "right" way and survived. It is an inspiration, a light in the dark, when I am frustrated with my own inability to be who other people want me to be.

Fitness Challenge Update

2011-12-10T03:30:00.000-08:00

PMS and holiday sweets are a hard combo to resist. I got many more fruits and veggies int his week than usual, and a lot less meat, but I have been munching chocolate drizzled kettle corn. Maybe next week won't be so bad, as evil me will have gone away for a few weeks and I have stuff to do.

As far as my other goals- I walked a little bit Monday (it was cold and I was wimpy, but I did some yoga and danced with the rug rat), ran a short ways with the kid Tuesday (missed the morning walk due to an idiot on a motorcycle needing to be reported to the police for reckless driving, but I think I made up for by chasing the little guy), and did the obstacle course at the grocery store Wednsday (dodging boxes, avoiding carts, reaching and bending, and all very quickly because the kid decided he had to pee- then I got to carry it all up to the third floor). I also have been better about drinking some water; still not quite back to where I was, but I'm making a big effort to get back on track.

As I'm thinking about my New Years resolutions, I'm going to try to cut back on the salt some, and get a glass of wine in a few nights a week. As the little guys are getting a Wii for the holidays from Grammy, I'm going to try some fitness games. It'll give me something to do with the family and get my butt off the couch.

Good luck to the rest of you!

200th Post- who knew I had so much to write about?

2011-12-09T03:30:00.000-08:00

Can you believe it? This is my 200th published post here (there are about 50 drafts that I've either never finished or just didn't like). I didn't realize until a day or two ago that I was anywhere near that many. I'm amazed that I found that many things to write about.

So thanks for reading! Next week I've got a serial planned on stories that I've been told (from many sources and for many reasons), after that, who knows what will pop into my head to share. If you ever have a request or a question, feel free to ask..

Blessings!

I miss my cemetery

2011-12-08T03:30:00.000-08:00

To preface all of this, I must admit that I have a bit of a peculiar love of cemeteries. It started when I was a little girl. Everyday we drove past the cemetery in Carson City and I would tell my mom I was going to live in the crypt. A few years ago, I worked at heritage center that included a pioneer cemetery.

Some people find hanging out in cemeteries creepy. For me, they are places of silence and of nature and of life. People's stories have ended in these places. Cemeteries are also places where takes it's course and our physical remains are reincorporated into the Earth. They tend to be quiet and oft times forgotten. The quiet and the stillness are great places for me to think.

I spent time getting to know the inhabitants- the birds, the deer in the creek, the grave markers, the families who came to visit. I knew the pink lilies that sprung up in the fall, reminding us that the leaves would be turning and falling soon. The lily of the valley that poked out an old, untended family plot bloomed int he early spring. The lichen on the stones is thick in February, but dry in July. The almond tree planted over the grave of someone's beloved husband flowers pink in spring. Hawthorns planted by the Irish families were a piece of their past gifted to the future. Broken headstones and missing statues remind us that even the dead need care and protection.

It's been awhile since I've been able to spend time at this place. I haven't worked there in over five years. But sometimes, I remember how it felt to wander among the dead, thinking and meditating. The peace was pervasive. Long after I returned home, I could still feel the quiet within me. Maybe it's time for a visit before the rainy season starts.

Smacked between the eyes, in the nicest way possible

2011-12-07T03:30:00.000-08:00

What fun it is to turn a corner and find something beautiful and magical that has always been there, but now presents itself in such a way that you cannot ignore it. One day it was the way light highlights the movement of fog. Another time, I was treated to an amazing array of brilliant reds on a maple tree. Frost on newly laid sod, rain puddled in a pool formed by oak tree roots. Hawk sin flight. Flowers that survive a freeze. Flocks of birds singing along with the wind. Amazing moments and sights to experience, and all I had to do was show up.

May you be blessed with unexpected and beautiful moments that connect you to the Earth!

Does an average Pagan exist?

2011-12-06T03:30:00.000-08:00

I blog hop, a lot. Some I read rather faithfully, and others, I just pop in and take a look from time to time. Sometimes I comment, and sometimes,I have nothing constructive to add, so I keep my trap shut. Lately, I read something that intrigued me. It was a bit of a rant (posted to Google +) about the pagan community completely homogenized and not representative of her views as a Pagan. This was all caused by Jason Pitzl-Water's Wild Hunt post (http://www.patheos.com/blogs/wildhunt/2011/12/editorial-occupying-everything.html#disqus_thread and check out Stacy Evan's commentary on it as well- http://asimplelifeinspired.blogspot.com/2011/12/rejection-of-capitalism-or-living.html). I was a bit blown away by that statement. *It should be noted that I myself frequently disagree with stuff posted on The Wild Hunt, and therefore, I don't read it often, usually when one a few other trusted blogger friends recommend.

The author of the comment bemoaned the liberal politics of Paganism, the prevalence of only one view point and the sensation of being a "square peg in a round hole". Really? I wonder who she reads to come to this conclusion, first off; but second, I wonder if it's not just a bit of confusion/ personal crisis.(This is my thought, not a judgement, just a working hypothesis- don't panic.) In my blog hopping, I have seen many different views of Paganism from Fundamentalist Wicca and Heathenism that is every bit as militant as Westboro Baptist Church to the more laid back, "Do what feels right to you" view. There isn't even a consensus regarding whether or not a Pagan can incorporate Christian ideas or saints into their practice, as far as I can tell (frankly, what do I care? All Divinities are part of whole in my worldview, giving them different names really doesn't change anything). I find myself frequently shocked at how Pagans can be against things like free speech and human rights, but support the "2nd Amendment solutions". Homophobia (and hatred of straight people, too) and racism can be found here in the Pagan community, often in subtle, frightening forms that go without challenge, and judgmental and discriminatory speech isn't uncommon. These are my observations, and I'm sure that some you won't agree with them, and that's fine as long as the dialogue remains constructive and respectful, I have no problem with that. My other observation is this: if you disagree with another Pagan's views, do you speak up, start a dialogue or fight, or do you mostly do what I do, and look for a more accepting and acceptable crowd to hang with? Maybe the problem isn't a lack of diversity, but a lack of confrontation or discussion.

My point is, after all of that rambling, that the Pagan community is no more homogeneous than Western society is. We have our factions, our disagreements, our liberals and conservatives, our intellectuals and scoundrels. I don't think you can pick one person out of this crowd and hold them up as representative of the whole. I guess this is just a reminder that we all create our realities to suit our expectations and desires. As far as "normal" and "average" go, I think they only exist in the minds of those crazy statisticians who like math to explain the explainable.

On my soap box again

2011-12-05T03:30:00.000-08:00

"You can crush the flowers, but you can't stop the spring." -Alexander Dubchek 1968

Change at the societal level is never easy, but it is often necessary. I support the Occupy movement which seeks to re-balance power in the world by airing the multitude of grievances people have against the currently established system. There is no reason and no excuse, save global famine and plague to allow millions of people to die each year from starvation (and it's related ills) and treatable disease. There is no reason to prevent people from nonviolently sharing their worldview. Discrimination, harassment and violence against people because of their ethnicity, gender, sexual identity, socio-economic position, religion or political view is not right. Rewarding the few, the powerful and privileged, at the expense of everyone (especially the politically disenfranchised, like children and the ill) else is wrong. The time has come to stand up and demand that we all be treated equally.

Fear and violence damage all of us in subtle, but very real, ways. I cannot, in good conscience, stand by and ignore injustice and suffering around the world. It is my belief that humankind cannot move forward until we address the past and current ills of society and make good faith efforts to create a better world.

For me, "Harm None" goes one step further to "Help Who You Can". If you're fed up with the state of the world, stand up, and add you voice to those already protesting. Sign petitions, write letters, educate yourself about what's really going on in the world, try looking at things through someone else's eyes.

On a completely unrelated note: visit EmKat Creations blog for a chance to enter a drawing for some really cute semi-precious star earrings.

Creating tradition- Yule

2011-12-04T04:00:00.000-08:00

As I was growing up, Thanksgiving and Christmas were big deals. My mom decorated, shopped and cooked herself into a tizzy every year. She put huge amounts of time, energy and money into the holidays. It was impressive, to put it all mildly. My husband isn't into holidays, so it took some negotiating to develop our holiday customs.

We celebrate the winter solstice because it has pagan significance and makes perfect sense to my atheist husband to mark the shortest day of the year. Over the years we have expanded our celebrations to include symbols and traditions that reflect our lives and values. We don't go overboard on gifts for our kids- the always get some seasonally appropriate clothing (sweaters, slippers or warm jammies), a couple of books and a couple of small toys opened over the course of 5 days. (They get gifts at the equinoxes and Summer solstice, too) Our families send Christmas gifts, which they open on Christmas Day. Santa (The Winter King- the kids know him by both names) brings handmade gifts (nothing, huge, extravagant or commercial) and I love stuffing stockings with pencils, crayons, fruit and candy (As far as the kids know, I wrestled Santa for the stocking privilege). I prepare a feast on the solstice (last year we made an assortment of appetizers including arancini and proscuitto stuffed mushrooms) that we serve on china and pull out great-grandmother's silver. We make toasts to our family, to our blessings, to our hopes with champagne or sparkling cider. We light candles and decorate with branches. We watch the "Hogfather" together and read winter books like "Winter King, Summer Queen" and "My Penguin, Osbert". Celtic holiday music plays through dinner (Big Gerry's "A Sierra Christmas" is a fave from a dulcimer player my parents knew). We bake cookies and cakes and invite friends to join us.

How do you celebrate Yule? Do you blend customs? Create your own? What music, food, or activities make the holidays special to you and yours?

Another Fitness Challenge Update

2011-12-03T04:00:00.000-08:00

Not feeling hungry is a double edged sword. Most of the time, it keeps me from eating out of boredom or mindlessness (if I'm reading and eating I'm in trouble because I have no sense of when to stop). It also means I eat very small meals. On the down side, if I completely forget to eat, I get grouchy. This week has been a weird one for eating. I'm not really hungry and everything is bothering my stomach or causing heartburn. I think it's an emotional thing as I don't feel sick.

My morning walks are getting a bit quicker in pace, because it's either foggy (and I start to get damp) or because it's cold. Monday my walk was much longer in distance than usual because I was freezing my petunia off (my kids like to call their butts petunias, which is way nicer than some of the other things they call it).

My terrible health crime of the week? I haven't been drinking enough water (and boy does my skin look it). Time to fill the BubbaKeg and carry it with me everywhere.

Anybody else feeling a bit behind this week?

Mommy's little balancer

2011-12-02T04:00:00.000-08:00

We broke down the other day and took the kids to San Ramon to the McD's with an indoor play area. Usually, at a place like that, my children are the loudest ones there; this time, they were the quietest (not that they were being quiet in any way shape or form, just the other group kids there were much louder). A funny thing happened while we were there.

The other group of kids, who all obviously knew each other and spanned from about 3 years old to 12, were running around everywhere. The big kids (4 of them) decided to gang up on the little ones (2). The big kids were sitting on the outside of the tube slide waiting to scare and grab the little ones as they came down. he little ones got distracted and stayed up top. The big kids started yelling "Are you coming down the green slide?" My four year old son, without missing a beat and with a perfectly straight face, told them that the little kids were about to slide down the red slide. The big kids ran off to set their trap and the little kids slid down the green slide without getting grabbed.

My younger son always stands up for himself and has a funny, innate sense of justice (or revenge, the lines blur their sometimes). What's more amazing to me, is that he was bothered enough about someone's behavior to do something about it. It might have been a small thing, but it was sweet. I hope he always keeps that fire for fairness in his heart.

Literal and figurative mythology

2011-12-01T03:30:00.000-08:00

One thing about my education is that it was rather varied and sometimes put me in classrooms where I was way out of my element. I somehow ended up frequently the only scientist in rooms full of art and literature majors. Or the only Anthro major in an American Indian Studies class (awkward!). How about the only Pagan in a philosophy of religion seminar, or the only mom in a class about women and labor (as in work, not babies). It made for some memorable and entertaining (for me, not necessarily others) experiences. It also tended to teach me a lot about myself, my beliefs, how I view life and what I present to others.

One case in point, I took Celtic Literature as part of a general education specialization segment (my concentration was in folklore, so I took Fairy tales and Folklore and Classical Myth in Movies). While reading the Tain (part of the Tain Bo Culainge or Cattle Raid of Cooley), the class was "discussing" (read congratulating each other on complicated and unprovable interpretations) the symbolism of the two bulls. I couldn't help myself, I had to spout off my theory, which was based largely on my experience growing up around cattle. What if the the bulls battling each other and destroying everything including themselves wasn't really symbolic of anything other than the fact that animals sometimes fight and kill each other, especially when they aren't being taken care of. It seemed plausible. The professor and the class were not impressed. In fact, they refused, in all of their vast experience around cattle (I should note that Northern Nevada has lots of ranches, and my aunt and her husband own a cattle ranch), to even discuss the possibility. I related the incident to two other professors (one in the anthropology department and another in Comparative World Lit); they thought it was an interesting idea that deserved some thought and that it was a funny criticism of art and literature as disciplines. I never stopped thinking about this. It occurred at a time when I was beginning to accept that reality is not, actually, observably concrete. We all experience it a little differently, but our cultural constructs are what lead us to impose borders between real and not.

At what point is mythology meant to be literal and not symbolic? Our human ancestors were not much different from us in terms of biology and brain development. They lived their lives very aware of the cycles and cruelties sometimes found in nature. They were also better acquainted with death, loss and the things you must accept because there is seems no rhyme or reason for them to have happened. Mythology in some cases provided explanations for seemingly inexplicable forces of nature; in other cases, it provided the framework, history and significance of tradition, ceremony and symbols. Were they meant to be taken 100% literally, or were they beautiful, subtle allegories that we know longer have the cultural sophistication to appreciate? Were our ancestors naive, or are we? If they could speak to us, to explain their mythologies, their worldviews, would we be surprised by their cleverness, their ingenuity, their acceptance of realities we cannot fathom?

As a modern Pagan, how do the myths fit into your life, your worldview and your spirituality? How do your reconcile ancient stories that may have been altered many times for many reasons to the world here and now? Do you view them as glimpses of the past only? For me, the answers depend largely on which myth we are talking about. To me, Arianrhod's curse on her son was not about him; it was about having her choices taken away. The Iliad and the Odyssey remind me that even gods can be fallible and that it is never a good idea to insult anyone's deity. Bloddeuwedd is proof that you can create all you want, but you can't always control those creations. Pwyll's arc of the Mabinogi can be read as cautionary tales against action without thought. Coyote's tales illustrate how creative chaos can be, as well as remind me not to get too full of myself, lest the Trickster gods decide to instruct me in the failings of pride.

Update on the American Council of Witches

2011-11-30T04:00:00.000-08:00

On October 13, 2011 I wrote about the reforming of the American Council of Witches. I was not (and continue to be) uncomfortable with the little information I had. I originally heard about the group from a Facebook post by Mrs. B (Confessions of a pagan Soccer Mom). I expressed by discomfort there, but nobody else seemed worried, in fact the response I got was basically to have my opinion brushed off as paranoia (They have their right to an opinion different than mine). C'est la vie, right?

I have listened with half an ear for more news. Things like the Occupy movement, my personal life and Samhain/Halloween have occupied my time and attention, as you all know. I have always intended to revisit this issue, but I never expected the update to come to me by the same way I learned about it in the first place.

It appears that there are already problems within and without the Council. Infighting, threats of legal action and a lack of response to community concerns may sink the project. Wednesday, Mrs. B. shared a blog post about the Council. It seems I wasn't the only one concerned about the Council. Please take a moment and read the post to keep up to date on this issue. http://onewitchsway.com/2011/11/us-american-council-of-witches-gone/#comments

These other links are related, and definitley worth a look. It's always important to know who is stepping forward to speak for us. It's even more important to know who they answer too, what they are up too and where any money they accept goes.

http://culture.pagannewswirecollective.com/2011/11/new-media-examines-the-us-american-council-of-witches/

http://www.theprovocation.net/2011/11/reasons-for-leaving-us-american-council.html

http://devinhunter.net/wordpress/?p=228

Planning my senility

2011-11-29T04:00:00.000-08:00

Being in a particularly wicked mood today, I am starting to plan my "senility". I don't plan of going senile, just convincing everyone else that I am. This is my version of "When I'm an Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple":

Wetting my son's bed (which has done repeatedly to me), while he's in it. I'm just gonna crawl in and claim I'm scared.
I shall start using the child method of clothing coordination (if both pieces share a color, they must match, regardless of pattern). On the other hand, my husband shall only be allowed to wear perfectly matched three piece suits.
I will ask endless, pointless questions about whatever the current pop music and television exist
I will talk about old people sex and past encounters.
I'm going to flirt with busboys and cute waiters, then tip them well.
Whenever somebody asks me for a recipe, I will leave out an ingredient so that theirs is never as good as mine.
I will wonder, out loud, about anything that pops into m head.
I will carry on the family tradition of threatening missionaries who knock on the door. (My great grandmother, who I did know, used to threaten to run the JW's through with her Mormon horns, and she would just threaten to run through the Mormons).
I will feed my grandchildren loads and loads of sugar and buy noisy toys that cannot be turned off, then I will turn down my hearing aid and "wonder" what all the fuss is about.
I'm going take up watching wrestling and swearing in foreign languages as a hobby.
Telling stories, for no reason other than I feel like it, even when inappropriate, will be my chief form of entertainment.
I will tell teenagers about everything gravity affects (likes boobs, earlobes, noses and testicles).
I'll go around in public with curlers in my hair.
My lipstick will extend well beyond my lips and will be red.
I'm also going to refer to everything as a "thingy", "whatchamacallit", or "doohiggy". No proper names for me.

Okay, just writing this has cheered me up. My husband I have for years planned to torture our offspring and theirs with things like insisting unmarried couples can't sleep in the same room and then spending our time "catching" them trying to sneak around (we actually have these very sophisticated and evil plans to do this involving surveillance equipment and secret passages). Then we'll ask why they don't have sex like normal couples. We also think our portraits should have moving eyes installed before our deaths just to creep out the kids.

Yeah, goals are good.

Hurt and the holidays

2011-11-28T04:00:00.001-08:00

Thursday night, Thanksgiving here in the United States, a dear friend's father passed on. He had been battling cancer for quite a while. I only met this man once, at his daughter's wedding. He was so proud of her, so happy for her. I will never forget the beautiful, heartfelt toast he made to her that Winter Solstice. He praised her brains, her strength and her good heart. If it were possible to literally glow with love and pride, he would have. His daughter, my friend, was, is so lucky to have had that sort of love.

She's hurting right now, and nothing anyone says will change that. She will, in the coming weeks, pull herself together, support her family, and learn to live with the loss. She'll find ways to make her young daughter understand, and she'll be the rock for everyone else. The anger and the sorrow over time will ease, but each year, she'll feel a pang during the holidays as she remembers her loss. I know, I've been there.

Thirteen years ago, my great grandmother, a fiesty, funny woman who my mother and I loved dearly, died the night before Thanksgiving. She had waited for a break in the snowstorm to die, because she was afraid to die while it was snowing. The relief, that she wasn't hurting or afraid anymore was coupled with sorrow and the uncomfortable , awkward company of friends visiting for the holiday.

Thanksgiving has been bittersweet ever since. The joy of family and friends, gratitude for our blessings and touch of sadness, remembering the loss of one so loved combine in strange ways. The ache, now, is diminished, but never forgotten.

Loss doesn't need to be through death, either. Sometimes, families shatter and the pieces get scattered along the way. My other holiday loss is the man I called Daddy. He wasn't my biological father, but I loved him (and if I'm feeling particularly honest, I 'll admit that I still do, but that I am too afraid to more pain to do anything about it). When he left my life, I was so full of anger and sorrow to try to min a relationship. My trust had been broken, by a person I never expected to be hurt by, and I handled all of the situations arising from one moment very badly.

The days before Christmas each year reminds me of the happiness I once had with my family. In recent years, I have begun to heal, as my husband and I have put considerable effort into creating our traditions for our family. The holidays don't look or feel quite the same, but through embracing new traditions, we are letting the past go.

My heart goes out to this friend, who is only now preparing to start her journey towards healing. She will grieve, pick up the broken pieces of her heart, put herself back together, and one day, she'll tell her daughter, an infant now who will not remember any of this, the story of her grandfather. All I can do for my friend right now, is to be there when the burden of being strong for everyone else is too much, to remind her that she isn't alone and to listen when she needs to talk.

For everyone who knows the sadness of having lost a loved one during the holidays season, you are not alone. Light a candle, set at the table for your loved one, or simply talk about them. It will ease the pain and remind you why you loved that person so much.
Holidays can be a time of incredible stress, remember to take some time for yourself. Acknowledge your feelings and look for something beautiful in the season to hold onto. Healing takes time.

Blessings!

A big lesson- trusting yourself

2011-11-27T04:00:00.000-08:00

In my opinion, the most important, and the most difficult, lesson in developing spirituality is learning to trust yourself. Without a bone deep, strong trust in your own judgement, you cannot trust anyone else. You can't trust the Universe, or the Powers That Be, or the gods without this first part.

A lack of trust in ourselves allows for organized religion, that separates us from the Divine by way of an intermediary, a translator, a sibyl, a priest. It prevents change, innovation and self determination by taking the power to judge out of your hands and places it those of another human being, who is equally fallible as we are.

If I could simply whisper some words to you to help you find that little voice of intuition and Divinity with in you, I absolutely would. Sadly, this is one lesson where I can share my reasoning, share my experience, share my hopes for you, but I cannot really do anything to help you learn to trust yourself. I breaks my heart a little, but I also know that the moment you find a way to truly trust yourself, to accept your worthiness of receiving Divine communication in its many forms, it will be a triumph and a joy.

We are all capable of receiving direct communication from the divine consciousness of the Universe, but we have been largely trained to believe that we are not important enough for direct revelation. That is a huge lie that keeps us from growing as souls. You are worthy. The Universe (the gods, whatever you call the Divine) is waiting for you to open yourself up and communicate. Ask, listen, ques,converse, feel. This communication goes in both directions. You do not have to feel ashamed, afraid or silly. If you have questions, ask them and wait for the answers (which may be slow in coming, but they have never failed to come to me in delightful ways). If you need help or comfort, you can have it (don't expect magical fixes to every problem overnight, because that is rare, but accept that you are loved and important in the grand scheme of things). The Universe will sometimes even offer you help when you don't believe it is possible. Those moments when you get a gut feeling, a premonition, those are touches of the Divine trying to guide you to where you are needed or meant to go. Sometimes these warnings are about people who do not mean us well, and should not be trusted. Other times, the warning is about change. When something bothers you for no apparent reason, trust that something, someone out there wants you to look closer at what's going on so that you are safe and well.

Trust yourself. You are string enough, wise enough, deserving enough to communicate with the Divine. Trust that you know more than you think you do and that you are capable of receiving answers and help from the Universe. Once you learn to trust yourself, you will find the exact right path for your spiritual development.

Pardon my dust

2011-11-26T20:44:00.001-08:00

I think it's time for a bit of change here. I will be rearranging, editing, and generally messing with the layout for the next few weeks. Feel free to comment on what you love or hate about the layout. If you have request or some advice, go a head and post that too.

Fitness Challenge Update

2011-11-25T17:59:00.001-08:00

So we've hit the first of the gluttonous holidays. I didn't do too bad, if you discount my alcohol consumption. We did a rather low key celebration of turkey and stuffing sandwiches and pumpkin pie. I only ate one sandwich and one piece of pie. Feeling rather proud of that.

Most of my exercise this week has been housework and dancing. I suspect these both burn more calories than my usual walk, so I'll have to try to keep them up. I'm starting to hit that odd stage of weight loss where things are happening, but awkwardly. My pants are looser (hooray!), but I'm a little saggy in places as the skin hasn't tightened up. It highlights those areas that still need work. like my tummy and the bingo wings. I know everybody has a spot that is resistant to weight loss or reshaping. Mine is my chest. The gals are still enormous and they hide the weight loss going on other places. I'm thinking the short term fix for this will be a different bra. If you can't fix'em, you might as well frame them as nicely as possible.

I missed the last few week's mini challenges between my schedule and the url change. Here's my top 10 reasons for getting in shape and staying there.

I'm tired of being tired.
Flab is getting in the way of things like shaving my legs and crawling under the bed.
My heart needs a break from all the stress of poor diet and extra weight.
I'm thinking about getting pregnant again, and a high risk pregnancy will cramp my life.
The kids are getting faster, I've got to try to keep up.
I don't like being unhappy when I look in the mirror.
Somebody has to teach the kids to be kind to their bodies; somebody is me.
My knees, ankles and back hurt all the time.
Food is meant as nourishment, not a hobby.
My mom will stop worrying so much about my health and will be forced to worry about hers.

As far as the week 8 challenge goes, I am trying to eat less processed food. When I have time and money, I try to buy organic foods at the farmer's market. For now, that's the energy I have to put in. I'd like to start eating more local foods (for social, economic, and scientific reasons). This is all a process, so getting the intention out there is one step, and making it habit is another.

I hope you all are doing well, meeting goals and seeing change. My blessings for happiness and health to you all.

Off in my own little world

2011-11-25T14:32:00.001-08:00

As per tradition around her, the boys are off at the International Car Show (my husband's boss organized it 60 some years ago, so tickets are a job perk). This year I skipped out to enjoy some alone time. Thanksgiving was silly and nice. Too much food, watching silly videos (LMFAO's "Sexy and I KNow" gave me weird dreams about the wiggle when combined with alcohol), listening to "Alice's Restaurant" and drinking sparkling wine made for a rather relaxing day.

I'd love to share some profound life lesson or wisdom with all of you, but really, I'm being rather lazy and cheerful today. I hope you all had wonderful celebrations (or just nice days for all of you who are not Americans, and therefore aren't celebrating this week). During the next week, look forward to my fitness challenge update, a follow up to a previous post, The new page devoted to "The Faery Godparent Project", and a bit about Yuletide traditions.

Cheers!

Thanksgiving and this pagan

2011-11-24T04:00:00.000-08:00

I love Thanksgiving! Yes, I know the story about the Puritans and thank God, but the idea of setting aside a day to celebrate and experience gratitude really touches me. I will freely admit that some of my attachment to Thanksgiving is my heritage. Some of my ancestors traveled to Plymouth colony in it's early days and settled there. I'm not a Mayflower descendant, but my family has been here a long time. The tradition of Thanksgiving touches on more than just history and religious views for me.

It's a holiday that my irreligious husband can relate to and one that we have always spent together. Dinner, depending on our finances, may be simple or grand, but since our marriage began, Thanksgiving has found us together. Some Thanksgivings were joyous, noisy celebrations with family, or more recently, friends. Others have been marked by sadness, like the year my great-grandmother passed away the night before. We even celebrated one year in a tiny, apartment in Florida with no furniture save a lawn chair, air mattress and TV sitting on a Rubbermaid storage bin. That was the year I was pregnant with our older son and my husband was attending Jaguar's training program. This year, we're skipping the china and silver; dinner will be turkey and stuffing sandwiches. It's low key, but we have things to be grateful for and not a lot of energy to put into making a big production of the holiday.

I hope that whatever your background, wherever you are, you set aside a bit of time each year to be grateful for the things you have and the experiences of your life. Gratitude helps us embrace happiness and accept abundance into our lives. It puts things into perspective. Happy Thanksgiving!

Comfort

2011-11-23T04:30:00.000-08:00

My kids have interesting comforts. My eight year old likes my fuzzy, pink bathrobe when he's upset or sick. He also watches preschool shows when he's unhappy. The four year old, he likes satin, a sippy cup of milk, and rubbing his toes on my leg. It's good that they know how to give themselves comfort, but it's got me thinking about my own self comofrting strategies.

Like many people, I have comfort foods that I turn to in times of crisis: chocolate, cheese and bread. I listen to certain songs when I'm lonely or sad (Irish laments, Toad the Wet Sprocket); certain movies (Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella and 10 things I Hate About You) tend to be watched when I'm in certain moods. Obviously, some of these strategies are healthier than others. I'm always in the process of changing out unhealthy behaviors for healthier ones, but it is a long process of identifying, understanding and replacing.

When you need comfort, where do you turn? Do you worry about how healthy your coping mechanism is or do you simply accept the comfort and move on? Whatever your comforts are, I hope they work for you and ease your pain.

Courage to right wrongs

2011-11-21T20:57:00.001-08:00

There are all sorts of courage in the world, and I've written about them before. Today, I want to congratulate all of the people of the world who are showing their courage by standing up, speaking out and demanding tre democracy, fairness under the law and equal access to neccesities of life.

These people are heroes. They see inequality and injustice and they are not looking the other way to preserve their personal safety. They are demanding change. They are standing u for themselves, but they are doing it for those who can't speak for themselves. They do it for the future, for the past and for now. Their efforts may impact us all before this historic moment is completed.

I admire those people who speak up against injustices big and small. I admire those who argue eloquently and reasonably against violence and inequality. May these heroes bring justice and compassion to the world. May their warrior spirits never be tainted by hatred. May their bodies be safe from harm. May we honor their bravery by embracing justice, equality, compassion and civil dialogue.

The Faery Godparent Project- an invitation to join in

2011-11-21T04:00:00.000-08:00

I need to spread some light, some magic and some joy around. So many people are unhappy and in need of help of all varieties, and I want to do something about it. The other day, I started out by slipping $20 in the bag of a local homeless womanat the grocery store. Another day, I helped my son gather autumn leaves and flowers into a bouquet for his teacher. It felt great! My ambition for 2012 is "The Faery Godparent Project", and I'm inviting you all to join me.

The premise: Make the world a better place by giving a piece of yourself to it. We are all full of light and magic that can be shared in an infinite variety of ways. Whatever your skills, your budget and your available time, you have something magical inside you that can be shared to make life better for someone.

Ideas:

Leave a note of blessing for someone. You don't have to know them- it can be completely anonymous and random.
Make a blanket, afghan or quilt to donate to charity, hospice, hospital or shelter.
Volunteer somewhere. Senior citizen centers, museums, schools, hospitals and crisis centers are almost always in need of volunteers for a huge variety of tasks; some are one day commitments others are weekly. Most of these organizations are willing to train you and get you started.
Leave flowers on the doorstep of a neighbor.
bake cookies for the teachers at a school.
Take part in community service days in your community.
Volunteer at an animal shelter.
Adopt a road.
Smile and say "hello" to people.
Leave tips.
Visit sick or elderly friends and family who might not get many visitors.
Organize a neighborhood help exchange.
Open doors for people.
Donate food to food banks.
Let people cut flowers from your garden.
Listen to people.
Send healing energy out.
Share the bounty of your vegetable garden.
Read to kids at the library.
Put money in nearly expired parking meters.
Repair something for someone. My husband over the years has helped dozens of strangers get their cars going when they needed it. He's changed tires, pulled over to check that people are alright when their cars overheat, even made emergency repairs to cars in parking lots.
Speak up for others.

Whatever you do, do it with the intention of spreading a bit of magic and positive energy. Grow light by planting seeds of happiness, compassion and love. The rewards could be huge. Whatever you send out, comes back to you, and who knows, maybe a little love and inspiration will get people everywhere to spread their light around. We can change the world and create a better place for all of the Earth's inhabitants.

I am asking you to share yourself and your light with the world for the next year in a concerted, joyful effort to really practice a bit of magic. Spread the word and spread your light. I'd love to hear your suggestions and your stories of spreading light.

Blessings!

Getting to the holidays by way of personal tradition

2011-11-20T04:30:00.000-08:00

The holidays are full of tradition for all of us. Some of these are time honored cultural traditions that we inherit from the past, and others are personal, created just by us, for ourselves. For me, the early part of the holiday season is marked exclusively by certain pieces of music.

I warn you, the assortment is a bit odd, but the holiday season would not be complete (or even acknowledged until I hear these songs for the first time each year. Even though I don't celebrate now the way I did growing up, these are still important reminders of who I am and where I came from. We celebrate Thanksgiving and the winter solstice now, but these have been incorporated into new celebrations and represent tradition for my kids.

Adam Sandler's celebration of Hanukkah, strangely has been the single for the impending season for me since I was teenager. As an adult, I better appreciate the humor and the feeling of being the only one with out a Christmas tree. I absolutely refuse to think about holiday shopping until I hear this song each year.

This song pretty much summed up the insanity (and numerous trips to the store) that happened at each and every holiday. Alcohol, tampons, and new family members to meet were a regular occurrence. My holidays don't much happen like this anymore, but the nostalgia is still there.

"Santa Baby" was played all winter by The X, the ecclectic radio station my family typically listened to. This song is still one of my mom's favorites and reminds me of the fun of shopping with her during the pre-Christmas weeks.

These pieces of music hold a lot of emotion and memory within them for me. I'm sure you have a list of things that really embody your holiday memories, too. I'd love to hear what they are.

Fitness Challenge Update

2011-11-19T04:00:00.000-08:00

What week are we on again? I've lost track. If you haven't heard- Domestic Pagan's url has changed to a .net from a .com. If you haven't been able to find her, that's why.

Now that I'm on the mend, I've started walking again in the mornings. I'm still not eating much, which is a good thing. It's giving me an opportunity to correct some not so healthy eating habits. Other than those two things, I have nothing to report.

I hope you are all well and feeling fit. If you are feeling a bit discouraged, take a moment to visualize yourself meeting your goals and feeling great. It's an awesome way to reaffirm your own courage and ability.

Blessings!

One of the wonders of the Internet

2011-11-18T04:00:00.000-08:00

Meeting people from far away is one of the great things about the internet. Via this magical mesh of energy, people from 14 countries have see my blog. I have met fascinating and wonderful people with a variety of opinions and worldviews. I support and healing energy from friends far from me physically. So thanks to all of you!

Above, below

2011-11-17T04:30:00.000-08:00

How much of the world's activity goes on above your head and below your feet? Probably most of it. That's easy to forget, as our eyes have been conviently located on the front of our skulls, an evolutionary quirk cause by our position in the food chain. To look up, down or around requires effort that we don't aways expend.

Personally, I spend a lot of time looking up. I'm short and much of human life is situated just over me head. This habit ,auses me to notice birds, trees and stars far more than I probably would had I been born tall. There are whole worlds to be found existing int the tree tops and under the ground. We rarely shift our perspective to include the vastness of existence that exists around us in miniature and hugeness. Beauty and amazement are available to us all the time, but only if we choose to look.

Try digging into the earth and see what is going on in the ground, or elevating yourself to see what is happening in the trees. Check out virus photography or the transmissions from the Hubble Telescope. There are amazing, beautiful things to see and experience every where. Look up, look down and find something fascinating. It is a great way to connect yourself to the Universe and open yourself to spiritual experiences. The more you see and the more you learn, the closer to the Divine you will find yourself.

Burning questions keeping me up at night

2011-11-16T04:00:00.000-08:00

Let me start by reminding you that I love faery tales. I have read them, watched them, studied them. I collect them and dream about them. No surprise to anyone that I've been watching ABC's Once Upon A Time. I'm hopeless addicted and enjoying every second of it, but one burning question has been driving me crazy for the last few days- What is with Rumpelstiltskin and babies?

Here's my theories

Babies, especially the royal sort, make lovely pot roasts. Ye3s, this is frowned on in polite society (unless of course you are Jonathan Swift), but faery tales are known fro this sort of gruesomeness.
Sacrifices to the Devil- again, common faery tale fare.
He is re-distributing the offspring to childless couples and isn't really bad, just a bit unbalanced.
Black market sales
He sucks the life out of them to stay young.
He uses them as slave labor.
He just likes them. Newborns are rather sweet and cuddly.

I've always sort of wondered about this, but lately, the curiosity is driving me a bit bonkers. I'd love to hear your theories, though.

In case you haven't heard or have been unable to get to Domestic Pagan's blog- her new address is .net, not .com.

The list

2011-11-15T03:30:00.000-08:00

Each year, I write a list of things I'd like to accomplish, purchases to make and problems to solve. It can be a bit depressing to not be able to cross many of the items off, but it also is a good way to really evaluate things. I have never expected to cross all the items off the list in a year, but I do expect to see progress. Some items are removed after a year because i no longer deem them worthy, others are re-listed, year after year.

This year, I've crossed a few- I've looked into home ownership, made new friends, made a few purchases and changed things around. That kitchen aid mixer still hasn't been crossed off the list, but the perfect shade of pink for my bedroom was found. Our family took a bit of a vacation and I didn't brain anyone. I created a website and started blogging more regularly. Not bad, all things considered.

What did you do this year that represents a long term goal? What have your re-evaluated or made changes to? Can you say that you are happier or closer to your goals or that you learned a lot? Whatever you've done this year, I'll bet that if you look at it objectively, you've been pretty busy with your amazing life. Whatever your journey, I am glad that we are sharing a bit of it with each other.