Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Farewell, Adrienne!
(My computer died on me before I finished this blog post originally, but I feel I still need to post).
I just learned that on March 27th, one of the most incredible poets died: Adrienne Rich. I can't claim to have studied/read all of her poems, or even a large part. I also cannot say I ever read her prose. However, the few poems of hers I have read, have made quite an impression. Much love to her, and may her transition into the next world be smooth and easy, and may her family and loved ones know surcease of sorrow.
Aloha, Adrienne!
Here is a poem of hers, that I think you will enjoy:
"Stepping Backward"
Good-by to you whom I shall see tomorrow,
Next year and when I'm fifty; still good-by.
This is the leave we never really take.
If you were dead or gone to live in China
The event might draw your stature in my mind.
I should be forced to look upon you whole
The way we look upon the things we lose.
We see each other daily and in segments;
Parting might make us meet anew, entire.
You asked me once, and I could give no answer,
How far dare we throw off the daily ruse,
Official treacheries of face and name,
Have out our true identity? I could hazard
An answer now, if you are asking still.
We are a small and lonely human race
Showing no sign of mastering solitude
Out on this stony planet that we farm.
The most that we can do for one another
Is let our blunders and our blind mischances
Argue a certain brusque abrupt compassion.
We might as well be truthful. I should say
They're luckiest who know they're not unique;
But only art or common interchange
Can teach that kindest truth. And even art
Can only hint at what disturbed a Melville
Or calmed a Mahler's frenzy; you and I
Still look from separate windows every morning
Upon the same white daylight in the square.
And when we come into each other's rooms
Once in awhile, encumbered and self-conscious,
We hover awkwardly about the threshold
And usually regret the visit later.
Perhaps the harshest fact is, only lovers--
And once in a while two with the grace of lovers--
Unlearn that clumsiness of rare intrusion
And let each other freely come and go.
Most of us shut too quickly into cupboards
The margin-scribbled books, the dried geranium,
The penny horoscope, letters never mailed.
The door may open, but the room is altered;
Not the same room we look from night and day.
It takes a late and slowly blooming wisdom
To learn that those we marked infallible
Are tragi-comic stumblers like ourselves.
The knowledge breeds reserve. We walk on tiptoe,
Demanding more than we know how to render.
Two-edged discovery hunts us finally down;
The human act will make us real again,
And then perhaps we come to know each other.
Let us return to imperfection's school.
No longer wandering after Plato's ghost,
Seeking the garden where all fruit is flawless,
We must at last renounce that ultimate blue
And take a walk in other kinds of weather.
The sourest apple makes its wry announcement
That imperfection has a certain tang.
Maybe we shouldn't turn our pockets out
To the last crumb or lingering bit of fluff,
But all we can confess of what we are
Has in it the defeat of isolation--
If not our own, then someone's, anyway.
So I come back to saying this good-by,
A sort of ceremony of my own,
This stepping backward for another glance.
Perhaps you'll say we need no ceremony,
Because we know each other, crack and flaw,
Like two irregular stones that fit together.
Yet still good-by, because we live by inches
And only sometimes see the full dimension.
Your stature's one I want to memorize--
Your whole level of being, to impose
On any other comers, man or woman.
I'd ask them that they carry what they are
With your particular bearing, as you wear
The flaws that make you both yourself and human.
Poet Rosemary Nissen Wade featured a poem by Adrienne today, for her post at Poets United. There are several more links to other memorial posts as well.
Poetry is one of the universal unifiers of humanity... And Ms. Rich was adept at using this form to speak out on behalf of women everywhere....
She will be missed!
I just learned that on March 27th, one of the most incredible poets died: Adrienne Rich. I can't claim to have studied/read all of her poems, or even a large part. I also cannot say I ever read her prose. However, the few poems of hers I have read, have made quite an impression. Much love to her, and may her transition into the next world be smooth and easy, and may her family and loved ones know surcease of sorrow.
Aloha, Adrienne!
Here is a poem of hers, that I think you will enjoy:
"Stepping Backward"
Good-by to you whom I shall see tomorrow,
Next year and when I'm fifty; still good-by.
This is the leave we never really take.
If you were dead or gone to live in China
The event might draw your stature in my mind.
I should be forced to look upon you whole
The way we look upon the things we lose.
We see each other daily and in segments;
Parting might make us meet anew, entire.
You asked me once, and I could give no answer,
How far dare we throw off the daily ruse,
Official treacheries of face and name,
Have out our true identity? I could hazard
An answer now, if you are asking still.
We are a small and lonely human race
Showing no sign of mastering solitude
Out on this stony planet that we farm.
The most that we can do for one another
Is let our blunders and our blind mischances
Argue a certain brusque abrupt compassion.
We might as well be truthful. I should say
They're luckiest who know they're not unique;
But only art or common interchange
Can teach that kindest truth. And even art
Can only hint at what disturbed a Melville
Or calmed a Mahler's frenzy; you and I
Still look from separate windows every morning
Upon the same white daylight in the square.
And when we come into each other's rooms
Once in awhile, encumbered and self-conscious,
We hover awkwardly about the threshold
And usually regret the visit later.
Perhaps the harshest fact is, only lovers--
And once in a while two with the grace of lovers--
Unlearn that clumsiness of rare intrusion
And let each other freely come and go.
Most of us shut too quickly into cupboards
The margin-scribbled books, the dried geranium,
The penny horoscope, letters never mailed.
The door may open, but the room is altered;
Not the same room we look from night and day.
It takes a late and slowly blooming wisdom
To learn that those we marked infallible
Are tragi-comic stumblers like ourselves.
The knowledge breeds reserve. We walk on tiptoe,
Demanding more than we know how to render.
Two-edged discovery hunts us finally down;
The human act will make us real again,
And then perhaps we come to know each other.
Let us return to imperfection's school.
No longer wandering after Plato's ghost,
Seeking the garden where all fruit is flawless,
We must at last renounce that ultimate blue
And take a walk in other kinds of weather.
The sourest apple makes its wry announcement
That imperfection has a certain tang.
Maybe we shouldn't turn our pockets out
To the last crumb or lingering bit of fluff,
But all we can confess of what we are
Has in it the defeat of isolation--
If not our own, then someone's, anyway.
So I come back to saying this good-by,
A sort of ceremony of my own,
This stepping backward for another glance.
Perhaps you'll say we need no ceremony,
Because we know each other, crack and flaw,
Like two irregular stones that fit together.
Yet still good-by, because we live by inches
And only sometimes see the full dimension.
Your stature's one I want to memorize--
Your whole level of being, to impose
On any other comers, man or woman.
I'd ask them that they carry what they are
With your particular bearing, as you wear
The flaws that make you both yourself and human.
Poet Rosemary Nissen Wade featured a poem by Adrienne today, for her post at Poets United. There are several more links to other memorial posts as well.
Poetry is one of the universal unifiers of humanity... And Ms. Rich was adept at using this form to speak out on behalf of women everywhere....
She will be missed!
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Sing, Drum, Dance Around Your Living Room!! Praise and Thankfulness for a New Day. :)
I had started a blog in October, just about happy music... I'll go ahead and publish as is, because, well, who doesn't need a happy??? :-P Enjoy!!
Post:
Listening to Ubaka Hill's, "Spiral Dance", this morning. If it doesn't at least wake you up, and get you to swayin' in your seat, you're probably a zombie. Hell, a zombie might even get happy listening to this. :P
"We remember how to uncoil our power, and to dance the spiral dance."
And isn't that what it's all about? Being joyful, being grateful, just to be ALIVE, to breath, move love eat sleep rejoice in our skin? To be one with all around us?
Dance the spiral dance, my dears, around your couch or living room table, in the kitchen, outside, wherever you may be... Enjoy one another, and above all, enjoy life!
Post:
Listening to Ubaka Hill's, "Spiral Dance", this morning. If it doesn't at least wake you up, and get you to swayin' in your seat, you're probably a zombie. Hell, a zombie might even get happy listening to this. :P
"We remember how to uncoil our power, and to dance the spiral dance."
And isn't that what it's all about? Being joyful, being grateful, just to be ALIVE, to breath, move love eat sleep rejoice in our skin? To be one with all around us?
Dance the spiral dance, my dears, around your couch or living room table, in the kitchen, outside, wherever you may be... Enjoy one another, and above all, enjoy life!
A Blast from the Past
This is where I was at last summer... It is a blog I wrote for The Pagan Mom Blog about Pan, my patron deity... I've been in a funked up, screwed up mess of a mood the last number of months... I feel like I'm always on the verge of something... I have to deal with severe agoraphobia and at times crippling anxiety and depression. I thought I was managing, but I've been slipping. Recently, I've been making a comeback against the depression, though I am still battling that demon daily.
I wanted to share this post again, because, well, I felt I needed to. I need a fresh start: we all do, regularly, daily, all the time! Sloughing off the emotional scars I have is hard, but can be done.
Here is what I wrote, and I hope you enjoy!
The Blog:
I have sat, stumped, at how to write this blog for the last two weeks. Do I go the historical route, citing myths and sources? Do I try to examine the varying ways other people view Pan? How do I pay due tribute, and give the utmost respect for my patron? Well, after much waffling around, and a start of a blog that went a completely different direction, I am back to: myself.
So, this blog will be concerning my own vision of Pan. I have memory problems connected with sleep apnea, so the best way I’ve discovered to learn about Pan, and any other deity, is to research some, and work with them directly, usually by meditating, painting, etc. Getting it “straight from the source”, as a friend of mine has said.
Recently, I discovered this is known as a “UPG”, or “Unverified Personal Gnosis”. Either way, full steam ahead!
Who is Pan? No, not bread, though I do love me some good bread (“pan” is bread in Japanese). Pan is God of the fields, forests, of all wild creatures. He is also God of goats, sheep, tortoises, bees and bee keeping. He is joyful, happy, loves music and merriment (as he is a God of music, as well). Pan is a lusty god, reveling in food, sex, wine and song. He is also known as a god of theatrical inspiration. He is wise, as the image of the Old Man of the Woods, and bold/carefree, as in the image of a young satyr, frolicking in a woodland glen. His faces and nature change, as does the rest of nature; with the turning of the wheel, his influence waxes and wanes. He is most keenly felt in the spring and summer. To those of us who worship him, however, he can be felt the year-round. He is of this earth, and does not distance himself, as his essence is in all creation.
Pan is also very protective of those whom he claims as His own. You think it odd that a god would claim a follower? Why not? I never knew, until He decided that it was time to make his presence known last year, that he has been there for me, all of my life.
“Last summer?”, you say? Yes: I was designing a small open group meeting about the Green Man and the Horned God. And literally, all I could think about was Pan. You see, when I need to know something spiritually, I obsess over it. I know that now, at any rate. Last year, I had no clue why I was obsessing SO MUCH about a god that had always terrified me. I’d been raised a staunchly conservative Christian, you see, and for some reason, every time I saw an image of a satyr (even before I knew what that half-man/half-goat creature was), I was scared. I saw the Devil. Even after learning of Pan, in my late teens, I still ran from him. And upon learning of the Horned God in Wicca, I still had to separate Pan. I could only see Cernunnos or Herne.
Let me give you some examples of my “running”: In South Mountain State Park, a number of years ago, my brother and lost track of time, and started to head back to the car (which took us a good hour and a half or so) close to twilight. The further we went down, the darker it got, and the more I could feel the trees all around me. I felt disapproval, and I chalked that up to us being where we weren’t supposed to be. (Yes, to some that may sound crazy. Have you ever been in the deep woods after dark?? Have you ever felt all those presences around you?) At a certain point, we had to stop, and I was already starting to panic. I could feel something else, other than animal, other than plant. My mind heard, “Pan.” I don’t remember if I told my brother that, though I want to say I did. Even though I knew I was safe, I was still wigging out, and hurried onward, shoving the memory down inside.
In Latin classes, I would stare at images of satyrs, get creeped out, and look again. My fascination with goats, and satyrs would carry on through my life, though always with that fear attached. I would see images of Baphomet, and the Boogey-man, and get scared. Even after a number of years, I realized I was only afraid of Satan because of the ingrained predisposition to fear anything with hooves and horns. Why the fascination, all these years? Why?
Goddess knows, I have had a roller-coaster ride when it comes to the Horned God. I researched, and read, and learned. And so, upon that journey, I would discover what a patron deity was. And could never find one, or allow one to find me.
Until last Summer. My secret love, my Lord Pan, my God Pan, goat-footed, sure-footed Pan, came to me. I finally began to research more, to read more, to learn more, and even in my fear (which started to relax), I came to understand.
During a small class, I led an intuitive meditation on the Horned God, and the Green Man. I only had a loose idea of how it would go. I saw a bounding deer, and I followed. I was led to a clearing, where a mighty Oak stood, and where Holly ringed the edges. And still, I journeyed on. I came to a field, a gloriously golden wheat field. As I got closer, I could see a satyr cavorting, playing his pipes. Finally, there he stood, Pan, in all of his splendour. And my head was filled with image of Him, curving ram’s horns, shaggy hair and all, until I could barely breathe. It was intoxicating. And I heard the words of the poet, ascribed to Plutarch, “The Great God Pan is Dead!” And I said aloud, knowing it to my very bones, “Pan is NOT dead. He has never *been* dead. He will never *be* dead.” That’s as much as I remember. But I can tell you this, it was a defining moment for me.
A few weeks later, sitting in front of a new friend, in a little cubby-hole of an office, I had an epiphany. I said aloud, “Well, now I have accepted Pan as my Patron.” And, after weeks of obsession, I felt laughter, and snark and pride, and Pan was happy. His presence moved away for a few weeks, to give me some time to think. Also, to cap off the afore-mentioned night, I recieved a gift, a copy of my favorite painting of Pan. It is a painting titled “The Faun”, by Carlos Schwabe (1923). And this person did not even know I had just accepted Pan as my patron. Talk about synchronicity!!
So, this brings me to now. I have been needing to write about my patrons for a long time. I have been avoiding that, as I have been afraid I would misrepresent them, or even under-represent them. When the opportunity came for me to be a guest blogger, I jumped on it. And promptly developed writer’s block. Due to my own anxiety issues, yes, but since I have limited information in book form, and have had to rely on a lot of internet sources, I didn’t want to appear as if I did not *know* him.
He is a Greek god, yes, but so much more. His roots lie shrouded in time, and I have been finding traces of him (through research) in Egypt and India, among other places. The names are different, but the essence is the same. I also keep finding odd things in common, between Pan and Brighid, such as the bee and water associations. I still have so much to learn, believe me!
With all that said, He means much more to me than anyone could ever know. I hope I have done him justice by giving you a small picture of what Pan means to me, and have not been too terribly disjointed.
Be sure to check out the links below, which have listed some great books on Pan, to jump-start your own research!
IO PAN!!
Blessings of Pan and Brighid to you,
April, aka Sora
Helpful Links:
An in-depth article on Pan
Online text of the Homeric Hymn to Pan
Wikipedia entry on Pan (look at the reading material)
"The Faun", by Carlos Schwabe
Also, here is an awesome song:
I love this song by Blood Ceremony... Entitled "The Great God Pan", it was not in my original blog post, but it is wonderful to rock out to.
Many blessings of Pan and Brighid, God and Goddess in whatever form you need, be with you at all times...
I wanted to share this post again, because, well, I felt I needed to. I need a fresh start: we all do, regularly, daily, all the time! Sloughing off the emotional scars I have is hard, but can be done.
Here is what I wrote, and I hope you enjoy!
The Blog:
I have sat, stumped, at how to write this blog for the last two weeks. Do I go the historical route, citing myths and sources? Do I try to examine the varying ways other people view Pan? How do I pay due tribute, and give the utmost respect for my patron? Well, after much waffling around, and a start of a blog that went a completely different direction, I am back to: myself.
So, this blog will be concerning my own vision of Pan. I have memory problems connected with sleep apnea, so the best way I’ve discovered to learn about Pan, and any other deity, is to research some, and work with them directly, usually by meditating, painting, etc. Getting it “straight from the source”, as a friend of mine has said.
Recently, I discovered this is known as a “UPG”, or “Unverified Personal Gnosis”. Either way, full steam ahead! Who is Pan? No, not bread, though I do love me some good bread (“pan” is bread in Japanese). Pan is God of the fields, forests, of all wild creatures. He is also God of goats, sheep, tortoises, bees and bee keeping. He is joyful, happy, loves music and merriment (as he is a God of music, as well). Pan is a lusty god, reveling in food, sex, wine and song. He is also known as a god of theatrical inspiration. He is wise, as the image of the Old Man of the Woods, and bold/carefree, as in the image of a young satyr, frolicking in a woodland glen. His faces and nature change, as does the rest of nature; with the turning of the wheel, his influence waxes and wanes. He is most keenly felt in the spring and summer. To those of us who worship him, however, he can be felt the year-round. He is of this earth, and does not distance himself, as his essence is in all creation.
Pan is also very protective of those whom he claims as His own. You think it odd that a god would claim a follower? Why not? I never knew, until He decided that it was time to make his presence known last year, that he has been there for me, all of my life.
“Last summer?”, you say? Yes: I was designing a small open group meeting about the Green Man and the Horned God. And literally, all I could think about was Pan. You see, when I need to know something spiritually, I obsess over it. I know that now, at any rate. Last year, I had no clue why I was obsessing SO MUCH about a god that had always terrified me. I’d been raised a staunchly conservative Christian, you see, and for some reason, every time I saw an image of a satyr (even before I knew what that half-man/half-goat creature was), I was scared. I saw the Devil. Even after learning of Pan, in my late teens, I still ran from him. And upon learning of the Horned God in Wicca, I still had to separate Pan. I could only see Cernunnos or Herne.
Let me give you some examples of my “running”: In South Mountain State Park, a number of years ago, my brother and lost track of time, and started to head back to the car (which took us a good hour and a half or so) close to twilight. The further we went down, the darker it got, and the more I could feel the trees all around me. I felt disapproval, and I chalked that up to us being where we weren’t supposed to be. (Yes, to some that may sound crazy. Have you ever been in the deep woods after dark?? Have you ever felt all those presences around you?) At a certain point, we had to stop, and I was already starting to panic. I could feel something else, other than animal, other than plant. My mind heard, “Pan.” I don’t remember if I told my brother that, though I want to say I did. Even though I knew I was safe, I was still wigging out, and hurried onward, shoving the memory down inside.
In Latin classes, I would stare at images of satyrs, get creeped out, and look again. My fascination with goats, and satyrs would carry on through my life, though always with that fear attached. I would see images of Baphomet, and the Boogey-man, and get scared. Even after a number of years, I realized I was only afraid of Satan because of the ingrained predisposition to fear anything with hooves and horns. Why the fascination, all these years? Why?
Goddess knows, I have had a roller-coaster ride when it comes to the Horned God. I researched, and read, and learned. And so, upon that journey, I would discover what a patron deity was. And could never find one, or allow one to find me.
Until last Summer. My secret love, my Lord Pan, my God Pan, goat-footed, sure-footed Pan, came to me. I finally began to research more, to read more, to learn more, and even in my fear (which started to relax), I came to understand.
During a small class, I led an intuitive meditation on the Horned God, and the Green Man. I only had a loose idea of how it would go. I saw a bounding deer, and I followed. I was led to a clearing, where a mighty Oak stood, and where Holly ringed the edges. And still, I journeyed on. I came to a field, a gloriously golden wheat field. As I got closer, I could see a satyr cavorting, playing his pipes. Finally, there he stood, Pan, in all of his splendour. And my head was filled with image of Him, curving ram’s horns, shaggy hair and all, until I could barely breathe. It was intoxicating. And I heard the words of the poet, ascribed to Plutarch, “The Great God Pan is Dead!” And I said aloud, knowing it to my very bones, “Pan is NOT dead. He has never *been* dead. He will never *be* dead.” That’s as much as I remember. But I can tell you this, it was a defining moment for me.
A few weeks later, sitting in front of a new friend, in a little cubby-hole of an office, I had an epiphany. I said aloud, “Well, now I have accepted Pan as my Patron.” And, after weeks of obsession, I felt laughter, and snark and pride, and Pan was happy. His presence moved away for a few weeks, to give me some time to think. Also, to cap off the afore-mentioned night, I recieved a gift, a copy of my favorite painting of Pan. It is a painting titled “The Faun”, by Carlos Schwabe (1923). And this person did not even know I had just accepted Pan as my patron. Talk about synchronicity!!
So, this brings me to now. I have been needing to write about my patrons for a long time. I have been avoiding that, as I have been afraid I would misrepresent them, or even under-represent them. When the opportunity came for me to be a guest blogger, I jumped on it. And promptly developed writer’s block. Due to my own anxiety issues, yes, but since I have limited information in book form, and have had to rely on a lot of internet sources, I didn’t want to appear as if I did not *know* him.
He is a Greek god, yes, but so much more. His roots lie shrouded in time, and I have been finding traces of him (through research) in Egypt and India, among other places. The names are different, but the essence is the same. I also keep finding odd things in common, between Pan and Brighid, such as the bee and water associations. I still have so much to learn, believe me!
With all that said, He means much more to me than anyone could ever know. I hope I have done him justice by giving you a small picture of what Pan means to me, and have not been too terribly disjointed.
Be sure to check out the links below, which have listed some great books on Pan, to jump-start your own research!
IO PAN!!
Blessings of Pan and Brighid to you,
April, aka Sora
Helpful Links:
An in-depth article on Pan
Online text of the Homeric Hymn to Pan
Wikipedia entry on Pan (look at the reading material)
"The Faun", by Carlos Schwabe
Also, here is an awesome song:
I love this song by Blood Ceremony... Entitled "The Great God Pan", it was not in my original blog post, but it is wonderful to rock out to.
Many blessings of Pan and Brighid, God and Goddess in whatever form you need, be with you at all times...
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Stop Being Afraid to Fight for What You Believe In, Dammit!
I am copying and pasting something I wrote a couple days ago. This is something that is still being solidified in my mind/heart, but I feel the need to put it out there, into the uncertain realm of the internet.
This is totally cathartic, but I know others are out there, just like me, who are coming to the realization that we are in an uncertain world at best, and one in which chaos and anarchy are surging. This country (United States) is long overdue for a revolution. And it will happen. It has been bubbling underneath the surface for a long time.
When it does finally implode/explode/overtake us all, we have to be careful. To define ourselves, our goals, our purposes. For this war (and it will be a war, believe you me, on all levels in this country and the rest of the world) will be waged on a religious/spiritual side as well as on those everyday "mundane" levels.
It's already started in this country, and internationally. For years now, the Dominionist movements, and other zealous Abrahamic movements have been taking root and spreading. The continent of Africa has hotspots where people are stoned, murdered, and set on fire for being "witches". So, yeah. Not a pretty thing.
Those are super-generic statements, I know. Things have been burbling under the surface of the collective conscience of humanity for a long time. I am more intuitive than I am a historian, but every news article I read, every piece of info I come across in this vein is not pretty. It's easy for us to hide. Trust me: I am an agoraphobe, and that comes with the territory. There are certain times, however, that truly do prevent people from actually growing and making things so bad all around you, that you have to speak up. Now is one of those times, and I can no longer turn a blind eye.
I also know I need to find source documentation to back up these thoughts, so people will not think I'm crazy. In the meantime, please understand that I truly do wish to serve and help those around me. And beyond my protected little sphere.
I know that in the days/weeks/months to come, my thinking will clarify and sort itself out. In the meantime, the following was written on October, 20, 2011. Peace!
****Begin Trans:
There is a time for standing by, and idly watching as others take your life away, until you can figure out how to fight back. There is a time to stand your ground, and not give in, no matter what they try to take from you. Then there is a time to take positive, pro-active action, to prevent further atrocities, protecting yourself and those who are weaker. There is also a time to fight, to not be afraid to stand up and shed blood if necessary. Non-violent peaceful protest is the base, but a true warrior knows that for peace to be made a reality, to take back that which is stolen, which is rightfully yours, one must not hesitate to go forth into the fray. It is not the first resort, but if it is unavoidable, then, so be it.
There will be another time when the rivers turn red, and the skies are darkened with Crows, and the Morrigan will again choose her warriors. The Cailleach also stands ready. This time the Warriors are not just ordinary citizens, but Priests and Priestesses. She has awoken, and She will choose her prey. She will choose her Warriors as well. Be it known the Goddess has spoken.
Be not afraid to fight, but know that through fear we learn. It will give you courage through the coming months and years. I fear it may get worse before it gets any better.
The Goddess has returned. The Goddess has never left. The Goddess shall remain, and woe be unto anything, male or female, four-footed or bipedal that tries to come between her and her chosen.
I have chosen to become a Warrior Priestess again. I have much to learn, and a short time to do so in. I have forgotten much, and I have learned much. I have lived in a closet while time marched on, and have much penance to do. But not really "penance". My suffering is largely self-created, but I have carried the blood of innocents on my hands from the last life to this one. I have begun the work of healing through multiple life-times. It is a scary process. I have much to learn, though I know I have wasted time, I ask the Goddess and God, Pan and Brighid, to grant me as long as they can, to make up for this.
I wish to elevate, but to no longer be so afraid. To kill if need be, not necessarily people, but destroy (as in utterly annihilate) ideologies and hatreds that bind and fetter. Though if the time arises that I must take up sword and shield, and do what I must to protect myself and those weaker than myself, I will do so. I have done it countless times in the past, and I will do so again. This, I know.
I call upon Ansuz, the rune, to aid me in this, and with the power of Thurisaz I add power in abundance, that of an atom bomb, but with purpose and direction. Speed me unto my goal. Help me to help others, as I am helping myself. Break the ties that bind my mind, my heart, my womb, my sex, my legs, my chakras, bring back the pieces of my soul unto myself so I may heal myself.
And that is Her command, as heard through another: Witch, HEAL THYSELF. For thou art Goddess and God. Thou art creator and created. And the heavens are thine, as are the earth and sea and all on, in, under, above, below and around. Thou art the Universe itself.
As Blake would say:
"To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour."
Infinite potential exists in each of us. Kundalini Shakti is there, waiting patiently, waiting to be ignited and set free. She is the source of that potential, and though we must be careful, she will give us what we need.
Selah, and so mote it be.
****************************End Trans.
This is totally cathartic, but I know others are out there, just like me, who are coming to the realization that we are in an uncertain world at best, and one in which chaos and anarchy are surging. This country (United States) is long overdue for a revolution. And it will happen. It has been bubbling underneath the surface for a long time.
When it does finally implode/explode/overtake us all, we have to be careful. To define ourselves, our goals, our purposes. For this war (and it will be a war, believe you me, on all levels in this country and the rest of the world) will be waged on a religious/spiritual side as well as on those everyday "mundane" levels.
It's already started in this country, and internationally. For years now, the Dominionist movements, and other zealous Abrahamic movements have been taking root and spreading. The continent of Africa has hotspots where people are stoned, murdered, and set on fire for being "witches". So, yeah. Not a pretty thing.
Those are super-generic statements, I know. Things have been burbling under the surface of the collective conscience of humanity for a long time. I am more intuitive than I am a historian, but every news article I read, every piece of info I come across in this vein is not pretty. It's easy for us to hide. Trust me: I am an agoraphobe, and that comes with the territory. There are certain times, however, that truly do prevent people from actually growing and making things so bad all around you, that you have to speak up. Now is one of those times, and I can no longer turn a blind eye.
I also know I need to find source documentation to back up these thoughts, so people will not think I'm crazy. In the meantime, please understand that I truly do wish to serve and help those around me. And beyond my protected little sphere.
I know that in the days/weeks/months to come, my thinking will clarify and sort itself out. In the meantime, the following was written on October, 20, 2011. Peace!
****Begin Trans:
There is a time for standing by, and idly watching as others take your life away, until you can figure out how to fight back. There is a time to stand your ground, and not give in, no matter what they try to take from you. Then there is a time to take positive, pro-active action, to prevent further atrocities, protecting yourself and those who are weaker. There is also a time to fight, to not be afraid to stand up and shed blood if necessary. Non-violent peaceful protest is the base, but a true warrior knows that for peace to be made a reality, to take back that which is stolen, which is rightfully yours, one must not hesitate to go forth into the fray. It is not the first resort, but if it is unavoidable, then, so be it.
There will be another time when the rivers turn red, and the skies are darkened with Crows, and the Morrigan will again choose her warriors. The Cailleach also stands ready. This time the Warriors are not just ordinary citizens, but Priests and Priestesses. She has awoken, and She will choose her prey. She will choose her Warriors as well. Be it known the Goddess has spoken.
Be not afraid to fight, but know that through fear we learn. It will give you courage through the coming months and years. I fear it may get worse before it gets any better.
The Goddess has returned. The Goddess has never left. The Goddess shall remain, and woe be unto anything, male or female, four-footed or bipedal that tries to come between her and her chosen.
I have chosen to become a Warrior Priestess again. I have much to learn, and a short time to do so in. I have forgotten much, and I have learned much. I have lived in a closet while time marched on, and have much penance to do. But not really "penance". My suffering is largely self-created, but I have carried the blood of innocents on my hands from the last life to this one. I have begun the work of healing through multiple life-times. It is a scary process. I have much to learn, though I know I have wasted time, I ask the Goddess and God, Pan and Brighid, to grant me as long as they can, to make up for this.
I wish to elevate, but to no longer be so afraid. To kill if need be, not necessarily people, but destroy (as in utterly annihilate) ideologies and hatreds that bind and fetter. Though if the time arises that I must take up sword and shield, and do what I must to protect myself and those weaker than myself, I will do so. I have done it countless times in the past, and I will do so again. This, I know.
I call upon Ansuz, the rune, to aid me in this, and with the power of Thurisaz I add power in abundance, that of an atom bomb, but with purpose and direction. Speed me unto my goal. Help me to help others, as I am helping myself. Break the ties that bind my mind, my heart, my womb, my sex, my legs, my chakras, bring back the pieces of my soul unto myself so I may heal myself.
And that is Her command, as heard through another: Witch, HEAL THYSELF. For thou art Goddess and God. Thou art creator and created. And the heavens are thine, as are the earth and sea and all on, in, under, above, below and around. Thou art the Universe itself.
As Blake would say:
"To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour."
Infinite potential exists in each of us. Kundalini Shakti is there, waiting patiently, waiting to be ignited and set free. She is the source of that potential, and though we must be careful, she will give us what we need.
Selah, and so mote it be.
****************************End Trans.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Drawing down the Moon
It's so much more Awesome when you're also doing Vigil, and your animals (my dog Spud and my two cats, Ginger and Mr. Orange) want to be there with you. :) Lying on your back under the full moon with a dog trying to lick you while your singing is just fun and joyous.
So yes, I'm keeping Vigil tonight (for Brighid, my Patroness). Have had a bonfire going for a few hours, since around midnight (it's almost 3:30 a.m. now). :) Did my own kind of ritual, and it's so nice to be outside, with the feel of Autumn in the air!! ^_^
Apparently, between 2:00 and 3:00-3:30, the Moon is right over head of my house this time of year. :) Drawing down the moon is so much more awesome when you're looking at the moon and She's so clear you can make out shapes. Oddly enough, the surface looked like one of those anti-litter signs, where the bubble-headed person is throwing away trash. Try to get your head around that!! LOL :)
I just kept singing a song about Aradia, and my own chant, one given to my by a friend. My chant goes,
So yes, I'm keeping Vigil tonight (for Brighid, my Patroness). Have had a bonfire going for a few hours, since around midnight (it's almost 3:30 a.m. now). :) Did my own kind of ritual, and it's so nice to be outside, with the feel of Autumn in the air!! ^_^
Apparently, between 2:00 and 3:00-3:30, the Moon is right over head of my house this time of year. :) Drawing down the moon is so much more awesome when you're looking at the moon and She's so clear you can make out shapes. Oddly enough, the surface looked like one of those anti-litter signs, where the bubble-headed person is throwing away trash. Try to get your head around that!! LOL :)
I just kept singing a song about Aradia, and my own chant, one given to my by a friend. My chant goes,
Moon, Moon, Mother Moon
Mother, Mother, Moon Moon
(repeat till done)
The song about Aradia is so fitting, so lovely, and I just felt Diana so strongly. I don't usually feel her or Aradia, it just felt so incredible to be singing about her. I loved Artemis when I was young. Diana is the Mother aspect, and she is making herself known. :) Here's the song:
I've also been singing to myself bits and pieces of the Florence and the Machine song I posted previously, as well as Lady Isadora's "Come Witches, to the Dance". LOVE that song!!
Hmmm... I felt the need to write, and so here I am.
I should probably talk about the Vigils I do, I reckon. To make things more clear: a couple months ago, I signed on with a great group of Flamekeepers, as part of a program of study with a local priestess. I am wary of teachers nowadays, since I kept thinking I needed them. Of course, I eventually realized that wasn't the case. ;) But she is a priestess of Pan in the Panoleptos tradition, a revival of Pan's worship in today's times. It's totally new, and so much is coming straight from Spirit. I felt a need to learn from her, and she agreed to help out. :) We both also happen to have the same Patrons. LOL That helps. ;)
So, I started doing a Vigil, which is something done one day every 19 days. This is something that was started by people to honor St. Brigit, and the Goddess Brighid as well. They are both so intertwined that there is really no telling where the Saint ends and the Goddess begins!! :) I will go into the legend behind that in another post. Suffice it to say that I also added two more shifts, as I also joined Ord Brighideach International, to help my focus. ^_^
Pan was also very present tonight. I kept seeing Satyr horns (goat horns) in the fire, and occasional antlers (I have caribou and mountain goats as totems). I also found a wonderful token: I had recently given something special to me to a spring (need to post that story on here!!), to help it keep flowing. It was a black walnut slice from Misfit Sanctuary, a local group of people who are near and dear to my heart. :) It was to invite the presence of Pan to the Spring. Tonight, I found a replacement black walnut half. There are no black walnut trees around the house, so I am taking that as a blesssing of the nature spirits and Pan. :) And Brighid, as the fire pit is sacred (has been dedicated) to both her and Pan.
I just have had an awesome night. So lovely, the crickets singing continuously, the full moon shining over head, so wonderful!!!! Such lovely energy. I was so happy when I drew down the moon. It came so effortlessly, so nicely. ^_^ I needed that fire, and the calm of the moon. Going to go back outside to sit and chill by the remains of the fire. I just really needed to write and get this off my chest. :)
Oh, and the Nature spirits demanded Apples and Cantaloupes. And cornmeal and black beans, but especially Apples. The plant that wanted apples the most is a poke plant that I have to harvest the berries from, to make dragon's blood ink. :) I have to come back in the daylight to see it, though. :) It would be easier to harvest that way!!!!
To end with, here's a great song by Inkubbus Sukubbus, about Aradia. :)
I'm tired again, so this is probably disjointed. Oddly enough, I also have been having the song "Sacred Ancestors", by Lisa Thiel in my head. I always have an awesome internal radio station though.:D
Much love to everyone, and may the fires of Brighid's forge be fanned forever in our hearts, in whatever way you see her. :)
Later!
P.S. I almost forgot: When I brought my Book of Shadows in, that I had read the Charge of the Goddess from (I use the Doreen Valiente version, not having my own written yet), there was a small spider on it. Tried to get her to get off the book, but she just *would not go*. lol There are a lot more spiders these last few months, and a huge writing spider right outside my door. Spider has come calling, I believe. Yes, it's getting colder, but they're not just coming in the house, they're everywhere outside. I've not been tapping my creative juices, letting all my muse come out. Thus the blogs, I love to write, whether it's poetry or just talking, it helps so much!!! :)
Brighid and Grandmother Spider, I am trying to tap into the gift that has been given to me. Thank you for being my muse, Brighid, and I can't wait see what other kinds of awesomeness comes out. :)
Grandmother Spider has the power to Create. To all She comes to, those blessings must be acknowledged. :) In short, She is incredible. ;)
P.S. I almost forgot: When I brought my Book of Shadows in, that I had read the Charge of the Goddess from (I use the Doreen Valiente version, not having my own written yet), there was a small spider on it. Tried to get her to get off the book, but she just *would not go*. lol There are a lot more spiders these last few months, and a huge writing spider right outside my door. Spider has come calling, I believe. Yes, it's getting colder, but they're not just coming in the house, they're everywhere outside. I've not been tapping my creative juices, letting all my muse come out. Thus the blogs, I love to write, whether it's poetry or just talking, it helps so much!!! :)
Brighid and Grandmother Spider, I am trying to tap into the gift that has been given to me. Thank you for being my muse, Brighid, and I can't wait see what other kinds of awesomeness comes out. :)
Grandmother Spider has the power to Create. To all She comes to, those blessings must be acknowledged. :) In short, She is incredible. ;)
Saturday, September 10, 2011
A Lesson from the Mother
The greatest mystery of
all is that there is no mystery. My children, listen to these words,
for I am your Mother, She from whom All Mystery begins and ends. I say
to you, that one must first understand that the Secrets to Almighty God,
the Mother, the Father, the ineffable, unspeakable, are such simple,
wondrous, beauteous things that most seekers walk right past them.
In your searches, you--my silly, sweet humans--rush past me, run away from me, fly all around me, and most of your seeking and searching availeth you not. You rush to the water, and I am in the mountain. You climb the highest hills, the tallest trees, and I sit waiting by that still, small pool in your own backyard.
I never know where to find you, as you scurry so much it makes my head hurt. Sit down, take a deep breath, just *breathe*, relax, immerse yourself inside yourself, and you will find me. It is the easiest thing, one would think. But no, you have so deluded yourselves, that you waste most if not all of the precious life I give, from one carnate to the next, trying to find the Way. You listen to everyone BUT your Self. You think you hear my Voice, when in reality it is the garbled translation of someone else's thoughts.
My Children, My beautiful, sweet, pitiful, sad, silly and wonderful Children. I am waiting for you. I am always home, tending the fires while you rush out to play and build, create and destroy all around you. I am the last Olympian. I am the forge and the furnace. I tend the fires so you may be free to seek and know. I grow lonely at times, but I am always here when you need me. I always waiting, for that stray one who remembers they are cold in the depths of space and time, unless they carry my fire with them. I can be in all places, in all times, in all things. And so I am.
While it is you who drives the wedge of blindness between us, and put a yoke on love that it cannot stand to bear, I will still be waiting, readying the fires and forges. When I know you are ready, I will put you through that fire, even if you do not realize it is I. I will strip you of your Illusion, whether you *think* you are ready or not. I will make you, and I will break you, and I will RE-make you, time and time again. Until at last, at a stream in a field or near a forest of your own creation, you fall down and drink, for you are tired, so very very tired. You bathe your face with ice cold love, and fall in, so thirsty you wish to take it all, drink it all, be it all. Cold and shivering, you crawl from that womb, yet again. I will take your hand, and lift you up, and I will carry you down the paths of that forest, inside yourself, and I will lay you down and feed you love you become one with you, and I will Teach you. I will teach you of that Mystery. I will show you, my child, my lover, my friend, I will whisper this truth inside your mind, still the raging, stormy seas. I will show you how to kindle the fire, and keep the blaze strong, and how to rekindle that flame when you think there is no hope, no coal, no spark. For there is always a flame, deep inside, it never dies, it is never fully extinguished. Even when all around you would seem to drown the fires of inspiration and creativity, the cauldron of rebirth will resurrect you, and make you whole again.
I will help you tend your forge. My forge. My fire. Your Fire. Our Fire.
For the greatest Mystery is that there is no Mystery. I am that I am, and I am You.
I am waiting. Please, come Home!
****I felt the need to add some music. The song "What the Water Gave Me", by Florence in the Machine, captures something so beautiful and primal, it's just incredible.
And for the second time, I will share Lady Isadora and Lord Pan, whose song "Come Witches to the Dance" embodies the mystery of which is spoken. To me, at any rate. :)
I hope you like my words. She was coming through very strongly. All praise to Brighid, Mistress of the Forge and Fire!! And to Pan, my Lord, my shining light in the darkness.
Peace.
In your searches, you--my silly, sweet humans--rush past me, run away from me, fly all around me, and most of your seeking and searching availeth you not. You rush to the water, and I am in the mountain. You climb the highest hills, the tallest trees, and I sit waiting by that still, small pool in your own backyard.
I never know where to find you, as you scurry so much it makes my head hurt. Sit down, take a deep breath, just *breathe*, relax, immerse yourself inside yourself, and you will find me. It is the easiest thing, one would think. But no, you have so deluded yourselves, that you waste most if not all of the precious life I give, from one carnate to the next, trying to find the Way. You listen to everyone BUT your Self. You think you hear my Voice, when in reality it is the garbled translation of someone else's thoughts.
My Children, My beautiful, sweet, pitiful, sad, silly and wonderful Children. I am waiting for you. I am always home, tending the fires while you rush out to play and build, create and destroy all around you. I am the last Olympian. I am the forge and the furnace. I tend the fires so you may be free to seek and know. I grow lonely at times, but I am always here when you need me. I always waiting, for that stray one who remembers they are cold in the depths of space and time, unless they carry my fire with them. I can be in all places, in all times, in all things. And so I am.
While it is you who drives the wedge of blindness between us, and put a yoke on love that it cannot stand to bear, I will still be waiting, readying the fires and forges. When I know you are ready, I will put you through that fire, even if you do not realize it is I. I will strip you of your Illusion, whether you *think* you are ready or not. I will make you, and I will break you, and I will RE-make you, time and time again. Until at last, at a stream in a field or near a forest of your own creation, you fall down and drink, for you are tired, so very very tired. You bathe your face with ice cold love, and fall in, so thirsty you wish to take it all, drink it all, be it all. Cold and shivering, you crawl from that womb, yet again. I will take your hand, and lift you up, and I will carry you down the paths of that forest, inside yourself, and I will lay you down and feed you love you become one with you, and I will Teach you. I will teach you of that Mystery. I will show you, my child, my lover, my friend, I will whisper this truth inside your mind, still the raging, stormy seas. I will show you how to kindle the fire, and keep the blaze strong, and how to rekindle that flame when you think there is no hope, no coal, no spark. For there is always a flame, deep inside, it never dies, it is never fully extinguished. Even when all around you would seem to drown the fires of inspiration and creativity, the cauldron of rebirth will resurrect you, and make you whole again.
I will help you tend your forge. My forge. My fire. Your Fire. Our Fire.
For the greatest Mystery is that there is no Mystery. I am that I am, and I am You.
I am waiting. Please, come Home!
****I felt the need to add some music. The song "What the Water Gave Me", by Florence in the Machine, captures something so beautiful and primal, it's just incredible.
And for the second time, I will share Lady Isadora and Lord Pan, whose song "Come Witches to the Dance" embodies the mystery of which is spoken. To me, at any rate. :)
I hope you like my words. She was coming through very strongly. All praise to Brighid, Mistress of the Forge and Fire!! And to Pan, my Lord, my shining light in the darkness.
Peace.
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