With the global explosions bookending the Spring Equinox this year, my phone and inbox blew up with the same question, “Some of these people aren’t going to wake up. So what do we do???” Our world is at war. In the United States, our people are growing broke from debt and unemployment. Food and water shortages are abounding, globally. We can barely finish fundraising for the relief fund of one natural disaster before another one springs up. Talking and blogging isn’t fixing the problem. Wait. I’m blogging. But I’m on the bus and don’t have a crew of NGOs at my disposal, so it will have to do for now.
Just before Ostara, I attended a function with two of my Covenmates called “Haiti: One year later”. It focused on the state of Haiti following the 2010 earthquake and included panelists and speakers who had several ideas about what small faith communities could do to help Haiti rebuild. But the question I had for the panelists was this: “How can small, grass-roots groups with no money or humanitarian supplies laying around their studio apartments help Haiti rebuild?”
The answer I received from several panelists was, “Never underestimate the power of prayer and money.”
A doctor who was himself from Haiti spoke and said, “Come to Haiti. Visit us. Bring your tourism. When our industries get back on their feet, we will have jobs. If you come and see us, businesses will once again flourish.”
I looked at my friends. The wheels were turning in their heads as well. We want to go to Haiti.
After the function, I approached a different speaker who himself ran rebuilding “mission” trips to Haiti. His was a Christian organization, but if we all had the same goal, perhaps something could work. When I asked him about the logistics of bringing a small team to Haiti to rebuild, I also clarified for him that we were not a small church group, but a Wiccan Coven.
He smiled awkwardly. “Um….not a good fit.”
He did add, though, that we were welcome to donate money to his cause.
I took a compassion break in the other room. With the help of a glass of wine, I reflected on a kind approach to the exchange. The Haitian people weren’t at fault for this dude’s rudeness. Plus, there’s always the chance that I simply didn’t understand what he said. Miscommunication is responsible for so many of the personal problems most of us face. I returned to the table and asked why, specifically, he didn’t think it would be a good fit.
“Much of our work is distributing Bibles,” he said. I agreed. That would not be in our interests. “But we do sometimes take non-religious rebuilding teams to go down and work on projects.”
“That would be a better fit,” I said. “I will be in touch.”
(This reminds me that I need to contact that guy. I also want to mention a conversation that happened at Ostara, when I recounted this story to a Covenmate who is himself a Christian—a true Poly-Theist, having many Pantheons that he loves—and his response was, “So when did Bibles become edible? It seems to me that if they’re distributing what people need, it would stand to reason that they would distribute edible Bibles, right? That onion paper would probably be tasty….”)
So, is my crew going to Haiti? I don’t know, but it would be awesome! If Paganism wants respect, it needs to gain it by contributing on a local and global level on par with other mainstream religions. Church groups have gone down to Haiti en masse to help rebuild. Why haven’t Pagans? I'm sure it's happened, but it hasn't made the news if so. Or maybe it hasn't happened at all. The main reason that I see is not a lack of compassion or desire to help, but mainly a lack of resources and infrastructure. For better or worse, mainstream religions have institutions with money who are able to fund and organize humanitarian efforts in a way that Paganism simply has not yet put into place. We’re getting there. Just this past week, Circle Sanctuary raised over $30,000 for Doctors Without Borders Japan Relief. This is one of the largest Pagan fundraising initiatives to date. I’m proud to say that the Novices of the Old Ways contributed $200 toward this event. Not bad, considering we didn’t have a public Ostara this year!
So why Haiti? Why not Haiti? They’re as close as Puerto Rico. We’ll have to get a bunch of money, find a host organization who can show us where we’re needed and what do to. But why Haiti, when there is so much around here in New York that needs attention? By doing this, are we really helping a community or just trying to make ourselves look good in the eyes of other mainstream religions? Is this the best use of our resources? In my neighborhood, I am surrounded by families on food stamps at the grocery store, teenage mothers on the street and drug dealers on the corner. Kids, and adults, who don’t often understand the ecological problem we’re facing, over-utilize plastic bags and leave litter on the sidewalk, which inevitably ends up in the rivers. Does my own contribution really belong in a different country? There seem to be a lot of problems right outside my door.
Plus, are we really going to make it all the way to Haiti? I don’t know. We’re a Coven of 23 members, many of whom are having a hard time paying their own bills and finding work. Are we even in the position to help others? Again, I don’t know. But the will is there, even if the resources immediately aren’t always apparent. We managed to dig up $200 in one gathering for our friends in Japan. What else might we be able to do given more time and planning?
Then again, it might be just what we need to do.
Just like the panelists said, do not underestimate the power of prayer/energy and money. Take a look at what Circle Sanctuary pulled off in barely a week’s time with a few simple Facebook-link posts that quickly went viral. Whether you are solitary or with a coven, grove, etc….maybe it’s time to shake out the proverbial couch cushions for what resources you have to spare—whether they are financial, spiritual or of physical labor. There are ways in which we can all contribute, even in our smallest forms.
From one tiny grass-roots org, here’s what has worked for us so far:
* Passing the hat. It's not a good idea to press people or guilt them into giving. So many folks are broke right now--for American standards. But do let people know that every dollar helps.
* Bake sales. They're super fun.
* PARTIES. They're even more fun. Ask everyone to bring a dish, and some booze. You surely have a mess of Tarot or Rune readers in your crew. You may even have musicians or performers. The Pagan community is rife with highly talented people. Just ask. If they're available, most people are happy to contribute their talents for a good cause.
* Reach out to other groups and communities with like minded goals. We gather strength when we work in packs.
* Blog. Hey, look! That's what I'm doing!
* Use your Sabbats as an opportunity to discuss important issues in the community and around the world. Many of the biggest social movements in history began in spiritual gatherings.
* Make public service or volunteer work a mandatory part of initiation. Ask my Votaries. They've got a shit-ton of stuff to do....
* Expect that your assistance may not always be welcome. It may be because you're Pagan--it may be because the organization or project is already overwhelmed. Do your best not to take anything personally. Contemplation breaks like the one I had to take with the "Not a good fit...." guy are essential. If someone does appear to slight you, give them the benefit of the doubt and don't be afraid to ask for clarification. "Is there a reason why we wouldn't be a good fit for you all?" "Is there any other way we might be able to help?"
* Start small. Celebrate little victories. Maybe your crew alone won't be able to eliminate all plastic garbage from the ocean, but maybe you can help get your community to cut their plastic use in half. Maybe you can start with your crew. Setting personal challenges to make each of yourselves better and more engaged citizens of the planet is as essential as solving all other problems of the world.
* Share what you're doing. The Goddess invented Facebook for a reason (no matter what the movie says). Your work will inspire other work. Get on it and get loud about it.
* Lastly, pick something you are passionate about and find joy in doing. If the words of the Goddess say, "All act of love and joy are sacred to Me" (or something like that) then know your social contribution will have even more Divine value when it is done in that way.
* Pray. Meditate. Ask for guidance. Let the Gods know you want to help and ask Them to show you how you can.
Love your weekend!
xoxo
C
Showing posts with label Novices of the Old Ways. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Novices of the Old Ways. Show all posts
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Your Circle Casting is Weird!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
At our Imbolc celebration on Saturday, one newbie guest approached me to say that he had a very good time, except for one thing. He had difficulty with the way we had cast the Circle. It probably would have been a good idea to explain things prior to casting. But I forgot.
Hold onto your panties, boys and girls!!!!! The East Coast branch of Novices of the Old Ways casts a Circle by invoking Water from the East and Air from the West!!!
8-0
8-0
8-0
Okay. Yeah. We changed the order of East and West. B-b-b-b-but why???? How could we? How dare we? Why would we????
A couple of years ago, Circle Casting was my least favorite part of the ritual, behind cleaning up empty wine bottles and discarded cheese rind at the end. The reason for it was because even getting Quarter Callers to volunteer was harder than asking for root canals volunteers at a dentistry school. And (sorry to rag on my own crew!!!) when I would finally get people to agree to it, the Quarter Calling often sounded like this:
"Hail to the um.....hm....Hail to the Guardians of the.....(*cough*)....wait....um....we invoke Thee, Ancient Ones of the....what is associated with West, again?" Giggle. Giggle. Giggle.
While many other groups were working very hard to formalize the Quarter Calling, I wanted to get rid of the whole thing.
One day, my teacher, who is British, mentioned that the reason the Circle is cast as it often is cast is because the directions were based on a European system of direction. In Great Britain, where the traditional Circle Casting was developed, the greatest body of water was to be found in the West--the Atlantic Ocean. The jet stream of wind was strongest coming in from the East. Hence, honor Air in the East and Water in the West.
"So, I wonder if it would make sense for East Coast American Witches to cast by invoking Water from the East, where our ocean is located, and Air from the West, where our own jet stream comes from? North could stay the same--Earth being associated with ice, which we'd find in the North. Fire could stay in the South, where the hot equator is located?" I asked.
"Try it and see," he said.
I suggested it to my Coven this fall and at first, they were hesitant. Throwing something into the mix that is so different than what is familiar takes quite a bit of getting used to. But for us, it worked. We had stronger results. I no longer have to plead for Quarter Calling volunteers--people are excited about them. They flow easier and come in stronger. We've even taken to chanting the names of the Elementals to summon Them instead of using "Hail to the Guardians" in our private rituals. When we do cast using the "Hail" format, it's again much stronger than it was before. As New York City Witches, whenever we can move out of the symbolic and theoretical into the practical and tangible, the better. We have a difficult enough time connecting with nature. Why make it even harder? The closest ocean is in the East. Why not summon the spirit of the body of Water which is only 4-5 miles away, instead of reaching 3,000 miles to the next body of Water, on the West Coast? We are constantly pummeled by frigid winds that sweep in from the Midwest. Why not use Their energies for our ritual work?
Let me say again for the record that I do respect tradition and its place in our practices. Traditions are important as they act as the glue that holds practices together long-term. But the equally important role of the non-traditional practice is that it challenges longer-standing practices, moves them forward and keeps them from becoming stagnant cesspools of dogma. We've seen it happen to mainstream religions. The traditional and the non-traditional work together to provide healthy, holistic options for all members of the Craft. It is of dire importance that both are respected, but I'm worried to see that so many sects of the Craft are in danger of repeating the same mistakes mainstream religions have made. These are the same mistakes that sent most of us packing from the Churches, Synagogues and Mosques (among others) of our youth: Dogma without questioning, rules without understanding, practices by rout instead of by heart.
When we are not open to breaking tradition, we become its slave and in that mistake, our spirituality is whittled down to a system of right or wrong, which is precisely what is killing Christianity. It has the potent potential to kill Wicca, too.If you are member of a tradition, more power to you and kudos to you for finding a system that works for you! Your work in preserving your tradition is important as it will provide a strong framework of practice for those to come. If you are a non-traditionalist, again kudos to you for keeping things shaken up and moving forward--discovering new things and enriching the Craft.
Being a non-traditionalist is scary. We make lots of mistakes. We feel like we are out in the proverbial wilderness a lot of the time. But what we have is the unbelievable power of potential and discovery.
I urge those of the non-traditional persuasion to remember that your practices are as valid as the "Ancient Traditions" ("ancient" meaning they date way back to the 1970's....most of them.....). But do also be respectful when attending a traditional Circle. Avoid being critical or snickering at what might be too rigid for your tastes. Someone, somewhere has worked very hard to preserve that tradition and it serves many people, even if it's not your flavor.
If you are a traditionalist, be open to the way a non-traditionalist is performing things. They are keeping the Craft from fading into another dogmatic cult. I think that's something none of us, regardless of our tradition or non-tradition, want to see.
I encourage Witches all over the place, particularly those in the Southern Hemisphere to try moving around the Elemental Quarter calling. Would it make sense for South American and Australian Witches to call Fire from the North and Earth from the South? Just a thought and a question. Would love to hear your stories at courtney@tarotoftheboroughs.com.
Happy (belated) Imbolc!!!
xoxo
C
Hold onto your panties, boys and girls!!!!! The East Coast branch of Novices of the Old Ways casts a Circle by invoking Water from the East and Air from the West!!!
8-0
8-0
8-0
Okay. Yeah. We changed the order of East and West. B-b-b-b-but why???? How could we? How dare we? Why would we????
A couple of years ago, Circle Casting was my least favorite part of the ritual, behind cleaning up empty wine bottles and discarded cheese rind at the end. The reason for it was because even getting Quarter Callers to volunteer was harder than asking for root canals volunteers at a dentistry school. And (sorry to rag on my own crew!!!) when I would finally get people to agree to it, the Quarter Calling often sounded like this:
"Hail to the um.....hm....Hail to the Guardians of the.....(*cough*)....wait....um....we invoke Thee, Ancient Ones of the....what is associated with West, again?" Giggle. Giggle. Giggle.
While many other groups were working very hard to formalize the Quarter Calling, I wanted to get rid of the whole thing.
One day, my teacher, who is British, mentioned that the reason the Circle is cast as it often is cast is because the directions were based on a European system of direction. In Great Britain, where the traditional Circle Casting was developed, the greatest body of water was to be found in the West--the Atlantic Ocean. The jet stream of wind was strongest coming in from the East. Hence, honor Air in the East and Water in the West.
"So, I wonder if it would make sense for East Coast American Witches to cast by invoking Water from the East, where our ocean is located, and Air from the West, where our own jet stream comes from? North could stay the same--Earth being associated with ice, which we'd find in the North. Fire could stay in the South, where the hot equator is located?" I asked.
"Try it and see," he said.
I suggested it to my Coven this fall and at first, they were hesitant. Throwing something into the mix that is so different than what is familiar takes quite a bit of getting used to. But for us, it worked. We had stronger results. I no longer have to plead for Quarter Calling volunteers--people are excited about them. They flow easier and come in stronger. We've even taken to chanting the names of the Elementals to summon Them instead of using "Hail to the Guardians" in our private rituals. When we do cast using the "Hail" format, it's again much stronger than it was before. As New York City Witches, whenever we can move out of the symbolic and theoretical into the practical and tangible, the better. We have a difficult enough time connecting with nature. Why make it even harder? The closest ocean is in the East. Why not summon the spirit of the body of Water which is only 4-5 miles away, instead of reaching 3,000 miles to the next body of Water, on the West Coast? We are constantly pummeled by frigid winds that sweep in from the Midwest. Why not use Their energies for our ritual work?
Let me say again for the record that I do respect tradition and its place in our practices. Traditions are important as they act as the glue that holds practices together long-term. But the equally important role of the non-traditional practice is that it challenges longer-standing practices, moves them forward and keeps them from becoming stagnant cesspools of dogma. We've seen it happen to mainstream religions. The traditional and the non-traditional work together to provide healthy, holistic options for all members of the Craft. It is of dire importance that both are respected, but I'm worried to see that so many sects of the Craft are in danger of repeating the same mistakes mainstream religions have made. These are the same mistakes that sent most of us packing from the Churches, Synagogues and Mosques (among others) of our youth: Dogma without questioning, rules without understanding, practices by rout instead of by heart.
When we are not open to breaking tradition, we become its slave and in that mistake, our spirituality is whittled down to a system of right or wrong, which is precisely what is killing Christianity. It has the potent potential to kill Wicca, too.If you are member of a tradition, more power to you and kudos to you for finding a system that works for you! Your work in preserving your tradition is important as it will provide a strong framework of practice for those to come. If you are a non-traditionalist, again kudos to you for keeping things shaken up and moving forward--discovering new things and enriching the Craft.
Being a non-traditionalist is scary. We make lots of mistakes. We feel like we are out in the proverbial wilderness a lot of the time. But what we have is the unbelievable power of potential and discovery.
I urge those of the non-traditional persuasion to remember that your practices are as valid as the "Ancient Traditions" ("ancient" meaning they date way back to the 1970's....most of them.....). But do also be respectful when attending a traditional Circle. Avoid being critical or snickering at what might be too rigid for your tastes. Someone, somewhere has worked very hard to preserve that tradition and it serves many people, even if it's not your flavor.
If you are a traditionalist, be open to the way a non-traditionalist is performing things. They are keeping the Craft from fading into another dogmatic cult. I think that's something none of us, regardless of our tradition or non-tradition, want to see.
I encourage Witches all over the place, particularly those in the Southern Hemisphere to try moving around the Elemental Quarter calling. Would it make sense for South American and Australian Witches to call Fire from the North and Earth from the South? Just a thought and a question. Would love to hear your stories at courtney@tarotoftheboroughs.com.
Happy (belated) Imbolc!!!
xoxo
C
Thursday, October 8, 2009
REALLY AWESOME PARTY YOU NEED TO ATTEND!!!!!
a performance/ costume party/ fundraising event
presented by APOCRYPHON PRODUCTIONS
Cost of admission: $10 without costume, $7 with
hosted by Rev. Jen (as mighty Isis!)
and featuring:
music by Flaming Fire
and Larkin Grimm
an Aztec "Sacrifice" by the very sexy Duchess Wendi
burlesque by N of Hypergender Burlesque
performance by Master Lee
Modern Dance piece by Choreographer Rob Davidson
and DJ Charles Gaskins from garagepunk.com
tarot readings by Lilith Dorsey
nymph go-go dancers
a "Hot God" contest
probably lots of impromptu nudity
Start Time: Thursday, October 29, 2009 at 9:00pm
End Time: Friday, October 30, 2009 at 4:00am
Location: Mehanata Bulgarian Bar
Street: 113 Ludlow Street
Looking for proof that the Lower East Side hasn't become a dull-as-shit strip-mall full of sports bars and conservatively dressed people making chitchat about the economy and their day jobs? Well, then get gussied up as yer fave God or Goddess and come to Pan-Theon: an ultra-freaky performance party event hosted by Rev. Jen with enough debauchery to make the Great God, Pan proud. Live music by Flaming Fire and Larkin Grimm, Bast-inspired burlesque by Agent N, an Aztec sacrifice (funny till someone gets hurt!) and dance music by dj Charles Gaskins! Why? Because the Gods love it when we dance, sing, drink and bone!
All brought to a city on the verge of losing its mojo by a group of concerned NYC Pagans who want to put the fun back in Paganism! Best of all, it's a fundraiser to bring globally recognized authorities on Witchcraft and Paganism, Janet Farrar and Gavin Bone, from Ireland to NYC to teach. (Recent books include The Pagan Path, The Healing Craft, The Complete Dictionary of European God and Goddesses, and Progressive Witchcraft.)
Thank Goddess Downtown is still weird!
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Funny IM with a Scorpio.
(Backstory: Had to go to Chinese consulate to get a visa for my boss. Then, made arrangements to get pain meds to the Ex to whom Pan refuses to give a break. Then, received an email about another negative dream someone has had about me--and had to text my adviser about how to combat further astral crap. Then, IM'd with a Group member who is deeply concerned about running into an ex--if the banishing she did was not effective. Then...CRR the Scorpio got online.)
CRR: just poking my head out to say hi!
I need to take off in a few minutes.
GirlCalledWoo: Hey! Swamped today?
CRR: yeah
GirlCalledWoo: Okay, babe. :)
CRR: how's your morning going?
GirlCalledWoo: A little crazy.
Chinese consulate.
Drama in the Coven ranks.
Work is nutty.
CRR: Great. You got the Chinese involved.
You remember the last time the Chinese got involved with your shenanigans.
GirlCalledWoo: All I remember is the morphine drip.
CRR: I had to have my lower intestine rebored because of that gay bengal tiger.
So next time, please, avoid Red China in your adventures.
:)
CRR: anywho, I'm off.
check in a bit later.
Sent at 12:29 PM on Wednesday
(It was funny at the time.)
CRR: just poking my head out to say hi!
I need to take off in a few minutes.
GirlCalledWoo: Hey! Swamped today?
CRR: yeah
GirlCalledWoo: Okay, babe. :)
CRR: how's your morning going?
GirlCalledWoo: A little crazy.
Chinese consulate.
Drama in the Coven ranks.
Work is nutty.
CRR: Great. You got the Chinese involved.
You remember the last time the Chinese got involved with your shenanigans.
GirlCalledWoo: All I remember is the morphine drip.
CRR: I had to have my lower intestine rebored because of that gay bengal tiger.
So next time, please, avoid Red China in your adventures.
:)
CRR: anywho, I'm off.
check in a bit later.
Sent at 12:29 PM on Wednesday
(It was funny at the time.)
Monday, September 28, 2009
Musings on the completion of the Wheel
Yes, we're still weeks away from Samhain, but already I'm feeling the end of this year's Wheel. I know what my next project is going to be. I have a book to write. Tonight, while attempting to put pound out a short story, all I wanted to do was jot down a chapter summary of the things I learned over the past year and how it can all be pounded out into a book. It's coming. That's the project for next year--besides getting into Seminary full time--is making sense out of all the shit that happened in 2008-2009 and how to process it into something that might help others. Journeys, journeys, journeys....
Meanwhile, Jorge and I are taking a week off from shooting the Tarot deck. It's amazing we survived last week's nonsense. We're collaborating on Saturday to prepare for the UK Tarot Conference (!!!)
Hmmmm....what else to say.
CRR and I talked last night about the process of writing. Writing for two hours every day, and reading for one of those hours, too. I would like to get an hour's worth of reading in tonight, but I also need to make some phone calls and clean out the refrigerator. Plus, do some kind of protection spell for my house and home. Maybe I can combine that with my reading. Reading some of my spell books. I have some good ones. When I find something good, I'll let you guys know.
CRR, are you reading this and chuckling? Stop. I feel it in NYC. (Just kidding. But not really.)
I'm playing Witchy Carrie Bradshaw because I've got to fill up twenty more minutes of writing. I'm almost there, right? Have I found enough to say? No. Did I draw any conclusions? Hell no. Do I ever? Meh. Of course not. What philosopher does? Which brings up the question....am I a philosopher? What defines a philosopher? Who the fuck cares who is a philosopher? Would a good philosopher use the word, "fuck"?
CRR, this is all your fault. You suggested I write for two hours a night and now I can't stop.
Don't worry. Only a few thousand people read this daily, anyway. And by a few thousand, I mean a few hundred. And by that, I mean a few dozen. And by that I mean, probably just you. And by that I mean, Kwanzaa, a joke in which only my sister will get this--and she only reads this blog when I tell her to.
Fifteen minutes short of the two hour time limit. Does writing an email count?
Signing off.
Meanwhile, Jorge and I are taking a week off from shooting the Tarot deck. It's amazing we survived last week's nonsense. We're collaborating on Saturday to prepare for the UK Tarot Conference (!!!)
Hmmmm....what else to say.
CRR and I talked last night about the process of writing. Writing for two hours every day, and reading for one of those hours, too. I would like to get an hour's worth of reading in tonight, but I also need to make some phone calls and clean out the refrigerator. Plus, do some kind of protection spell for my house and home. Maybe I can combine that with my reading. Reading some of my spell books. I have some good ones. When I find something good, I'll let you guys know.
CRR, are you reading this and chuckling? Stop. I feel it in NYC. (Just kidding. But not really.)
I'm playing Witchy Carrie Bradshaw because I've got to fill up twenty more minutes of writing. I'm almost there, right? Have I found enough to say? No. Did I draw any conclusions? Hell no. Do I ever? Meh. Of course not. What philosopher does? Which brings up the question....am I a philosopher? What defines a philosopher? Who the fuck cares who is a philosopher? Would a good philosopher use the word, "fuck"?
CRR, this is all your fault. You suggested I write for two hours a night and now I can't stop.
Don't worry. Only a few thousand people read this daily, anyway. And by a few thousand, I mean a few hundred. And by that, I mean a few dozen. And by that I mean, probably just you. And by that I mean, Kwanzaa, a joke in which only my sister will get this--and she only reads this blog when I tell her to.
Fifteen minutes short of the two hour time limit. Does writing an email count?
Signing off.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
A story from last night and many thanks to a hooker named Marilyn
First of all: One story from last night.
At the end of the show, I was tired. Two nights in a row of reading cards plus the days both days--was getting run down, and quickly. A young woman came to the table and asked for a reading. I said, as I've started saying, "How can I help you?" She wanted to know about the future. Then, she revealed that both her parents had been murdered a year before. What was she to do, now? Mother of fucking pearl....I said to myself. I am not trained to deal with this. Please, please God. Don't let me say anything stupid.
First thing's first: I shook the deck and said, "You will not find an answer as to why this happened in this reading. I wish you could, but it's not going to happen. What I can try to do is give you a few tools as to find methods to heal yourself. Will that work for you?"
She said yes. As per usual, I can't remember what I told her, but she walked away smiling--which is a hell of a lot better than when someone gets a reading from me and goes to lock themselves in the bathroom either to cry or eat pills. However, when she did walk away, I put my head in my hands on the table. How the hell do these things happen to people??? And why???
The next guy came to my table and just wanted a general reading. He looked at me blankly the whole time.
"Does this have any poignancy for you?" I asked.
"Not really," he said.
"Okay, then," I reshuffled the deck. "I'll tell you what has happened. I'm out of psychic juice. I am happy to give your money back." He kindly declined the refund, so I tried something else. I fanned the cards, face down, on the table.
"Pick one," I said. "I'll tell you everything I know about it symbolically, and you take from it what you will. Maybe there will be some kind of message for you."
He liked that idea and drew a card. When I told him everything I knew about it, he walked away smiling. So, even if it was probably the lamest reading ever, he didn't go to the bathroom for tears or drugs and I got to keep the five dollars. I did the same thing for the next dude, who again let me keep the five dollars even though I was out of juice, and was happy with the "Here's the symbolism" reading.
See, fellow readers? It's best to be honest with folks. When we're done, we're done. Likely, they'll want to get the cards to tell them something anyway.
***
Saturday night, I had two dreams.
The first was of KM. I still dream of him on a regular basis. Sometimes, we're laughing at the situation we're both going through. Sometimes, we're fighting. Last week, we were on the dream phone and all I could say was "WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY???" The call kept dropping before he could answer. Saturday night, I don't remember the scenario. But I wasn't happy with whatever it was we talked about, and I remember him not being happy, either. I left him there, staring at the ground, and "came back" to whereever I came "from," arriving at an airport with my friend Mike. My ex-lover TM had come to pick us up, for whatever reason.
I must have said this before--but I'll say it again. NEVER name your Coven "Nymphs of Pandemonia." We were disorganized. Everything started three hours late. But our parties were awesome and we got laid a lot, as to be expected. And also as to be expected, we blew apart over a penis. This particular penis happened to belong to TM. He and my now Ex-Coven sister ended up together and thereby ended the "Nymphs of Pandemonia."
Oh, well. If it didn't happen one way, it would have happened another. It feels like a high school complication, looking back on it. People are people. People hook up. People go away. People come back. Covens have short shelf-lives and something named NOP was a miracle for lasting the 18 months that it did. I think we're all in better places now. Novices of the Old Ways was born out of the dregs of the old Coven, and for it I'm incredibly thankful.
But in my dream, the former coven sister, Phoenix, arrived at the airport with TM. I was furious and wouldn't speak to her. She pulled me aside and said, "Have you even noticed that I'm here?" I replied, "What right have you to return? Why would you insert yourself into my thoughts." Then, I said some very, very mean things that made her cry. Before we could to back to our male companions, when they would see she was hurt and know that I'd made that way, I tried to smooth things over, but couldn't pull up an apology when I had none to make. "I'm glad I said these things to you here, and not in waking life," I said. And then woke up.
Then, I was mad.
Why was I still dreaming of KM, TM and Phoenix? I don't want to think about any of them. I avoid talking about all three of them because it only makes me mad. I scribbled in my journal all the way up to Inwood. Cursing and pissing on the pages. "Leave me alone, dumb thoughts!!!"
Then, I was interrupted by a hooker named Marilyn.
She saw me writing in my journal and complimented my cursive handwriting.
"God bless you! You have a gift. I wish I could write like that. I wish so I could write like that...."
I always got reprimanded in school for having shitty-slanty cursive writing. I appreciate the effusion. I wrote her name down on a piece of paper in the cursive, and gave it to her. Her name was Marilyn.
She went on and one about her blessings. Her new shelter. Her shower. Being clean. Having clean clothes. Having eight children, though she doesn't see them anymore. Being HIV positive, but still alive. Having made it on her own in the streets. She was alive. She said she was blessed. Beaming smile radiating from her, I knew it was true.
The woman on my left was all dressed for church. She looked spectacular in a green dress and a hat that looked like a fabric fountain. She looked up from her Bible a few times to acknowledge Marilyn and then went back to her reading. Marilyn liked her outfit and wanted to talk to her about it. But the lady wanted to read her Bible.
I'm not a saint. I honestly wanted to just scribble in my journal and be left alone. I'm giving a lot of justice to Marilyn's speech, because it isn't easy to follow the thought-process of a subway-riding street person. But, really. Wouldn't the Gods prefer I give this poor woman my ear for just a few stops than to scribble about what I think the Gods might want from me in my coffee-stained, ass-printed notebook? Certainly, the Christian lady's God would have preferred she help that woman than sit there and read about what Christ wanted from her. The woman on the other side of me gave Marilyn a little money. I had none. But Marilyn didn't ask for it. Just wanted to show me her poetry. Which I read. It wasn't good, but it had soul. I was happy to have met Marilyn.
When Marilyn left, I was thankful. Wow. My only real problems are me not being able to figure out my stupid emotional baggage. But Marilyn was the blessed one because despite her fatal illness, separation from her children and tenuous living situation, she was indeed blessed. I counted my blessings the rest of the ride home. I was ready to honor the Gods at Mabon.
Last night, to top it all off, I dreamed I was reading a Pagan writer's biography alongside The Goddess. "All these so-called accomplishments," She said, pointing out the number of books the writer had written, c.d.s recorded and Conferences taught. "What this doesn't say is what this person does to better their fellow man. That's what this biography should be full of." I woke thinking of Jacob Marley in A Christmas Carol, "ManKIND should have been my (motherfucking) business."
Okay, Lady. I'z done hearded.
At the end of the show, I was tired. Two nights in a row of reading cards plus the days both days--was getting run down, and quickly. A young woman came to the table and asked for a reading. I said, as I've started saying, "How can I help you?" She wanted to know about the future. Then, she revealed that both her parents had been murdered a year before. What was she to do, now? Mother of fucking pearl....I said to myself. I am not trained to deal with this. Please, please God. Don't let me say anything stupid.
First thing's first: I shook the deck and said, "You will not find an answer as to why this happened in this reading. I wish you could, but it's not going to happen. What I can try to do is give you a few tools as to find methods to heal yourself. Will that work for you?"
She said yes. As per usual, I can't remember what I told her, but she walked away smiling--which is a hell of a lot better than when someone gets a reading from me and goes to lock themselves in the bathroom either to cry or eat pills. However, when she did walk away, I put my head in my hands on the table. How the hell do these things happen to people??? And why???
The next guy came to my table and just wanted a general reading. He looked at me blankly the whole time.
"Does this have any poignancy for you?" I asked.
"Not really," he said.
"Okay, then," I reshuffled the deck. "I'll tell you what has happened. I'm out of psychic juice. I am happy to give your money back." He kindly declined the refund, so I tried something else. I fanned the cards, face down, on the table.
"Pick one," I said. "I'll tell you everything I know about it symbolically, and you take from it what you will. Maybe there will be some kind of message for you."
He liked that idea and drew a card. When I told him everything I knew about it, he walked away smiling. So, even if it was probably the lamest reading ever, he didn't go to the bathroom for tears or drugs and I got to keep the five dollars. I did the same thing for the next dude, who again let me keep the five dollars even though I was out of juice, and was happy with the "Here's the symbolism" reading.
See, fellow readers? It's best to be honest with folks. When we're done, we're done. Likely, they'll want to get the cards to tell them something anyway.
***
Saturday night, I had two dreams.
The first was of KM. I still dream of him on a regular basis. Sometimes, we're laughing at the situation we're both going through. Sometimes, we're fighting. Last week, we were on the dream phone and all I could say was "WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY???" The call kept dropping before he could answer. Saturday night, I don't remember the scenario. But I wasn't happy with whatever it was we talked about, and I remember him not being happy, either. I left him there, staring at the ground, and "came back" to whereever I came "from," arriving at an airport with my friend Mike. My ex-lover TM had come to pick us up, for whatever reason.
I must have said this before--but I'll say it again. NEVER name your Coven "Nymphs of Pandemonia." We were disorganized. Everything started three hours late. But our parties were awesome and we got laid a lot, as to be expected. And also as to be expected, we blew apart over a penis. This particular penis happened to belong to TM. He and my now Ex-Coven sister ended up together and thereby ended the "Nymphs of Pandemonia."
Oh, well. If it didn't happen one way, it would have happened another. It feels like a high school complication, looking back on it. People are people. People hook up. People go away. People come back. Covens have short shelf-lives and something named NOP was a miracle for lasting the 18 months that it did. I think we're all in better places now. Novices of the Old Ways was born out of the dregs of the old Coven, and for it I'm incredibly thankful.
But in my dream, the former coven sister, Phoenix, arrived at the airport with TM. I was furious and wouldn't speak to her. She pulled me aside and said, "Have you even noticed that I'm here?" I replied, "What right have you to return? Why would you insert yourself into my thoughts." Then, I said some very, very mean things that made her cry. Before we could to back to our male companions, when they would see she was hurt and know that I'd made that way, I tried to smooth things over, but couldn't pull up an apology when I had none to make. "I'm glad I said these things to you here, and not in waking life," I said. And then woke up.
Then, I was mad.
Why was I still dreaming of KM, TM and Phoenix? I don't want to think about any of them. I avoid talking about all three of them because it only makes me mad. I scribbled in my journal all the way up to Inwood. Cursing and pissing on the pages. "Leave me alone, dumb thoughts!!!"
Then, I was interrupted by a hooker named Marilyn.
She saw me writing in my journal and complimented my cursive handwriting.
"God bless you! You have a gift. I wish I could write like that. I wish so I could write like that...."
I always got reprimanded in school for having shitty-slanty cursive writing. I appreciate the effusion. I wrote her name down on a piece of paper in the cursive, and gave it to her. Her name was Marilyn.
She went on and one about her blessings. Her new shelter. Her shower. Being clean. Having clean clothes. Having eight children, though she doesn't see them anymore. Being HIV positive, but still alive. Having made it on her own in the streets. She was alive. She said she was blessed. Beaming smile radiating from her, I knew it was true.
The woman on my left was all dressed for church. She looked spectacular in a green dress and a hat that looked like a fabric fountain. She looked up from her Bible a few times to acknowledge Marilyn and then went back to her reading. Marilyn liked her outfit and wanted to talk to her about it. But the lady wanted to read her Bible.
I'm not a saint. I honestly wanted to just scribble in my journal and be left alone. I'm giving a lot of justice to Marilyn's speech, because it isn't easy to follow the thought-process of a subway-riding street person. But, really. Wouldn't the Gods prefer I give this poor woman my ear for just a few stops than to scribble about what I think the Gods might want from me in my coffee-stained, ass-printed notebook? Certainly, the Christian lady's God would have preferred she help that woman than sit there and read about what Christ wanted from her. The woman on the other side of me gave Marilyn a little money. I had none. But Marilyn didn't ask for it. Just wanted to show me her poetry. Which I read. It wasn't good, but it had soul. I was happy to have met Marilyn.
When Marilyn left, I was thankful. Wow. My only real problems are me not being able to figure out my stupid emotional baggage. But Marilyn was the blessed one because despite her fatal illness, separation from her children and tenuous living situation, she was indeed blessed. I counted my blessings the rest of the ride home. I was ready to honor the Gods at Mabon.
Last night, to top it all off, I dreamed I was reading a Pagan writer's biography alongside The Goddess. "All these so-called accomplishments," She said, pointing out the number of books the writer had written, c.d.s recorded and Conferences taught. "What this doesn't say is what this person does to better their fellow man. That's what this biography should be full of." I woke thinking of Jacob Marley in A Christmas Carol, "ManKIND should have been my (motherfucking) business."
Okay, Lady. I'z done hearded.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Mabon
Work is slow today, and I'm distracting myself from Ovulation pains for a moment. The "blessed" (and by that I mean, SUCK-ed...) IUD makes its presence known not only when I'm flowing, but when I'm laying an egg as well. Gah. Be patient with my bitching about the coil. I do recognize that I could have it removed, but once I get used to it, it will be hormone free-b.c. that will be good until I a.) want to spawn or b.) turn 37. Yay!!! But it takes about six months to stop wrenching.
Now that the cold sweats have vanished and the trembling subsided (YES!!! IF YOU'RE WONDERING!!! IT'S THAT FUCKING BAD!!!!)
Anyway.
Our Group's Mabon celebration is this coming weekend. I've realized recently, as I've mentioned before, how somehow I fell out of touch with my own connection to the Mysteries. Witchcraft felt, in the beginning, like I was standing on the shore of a great mysterious ocean, letting the pearly waves lap at my toes and beckon me to join. Someday, I would swim to its depths. I now know there is never fully a way to swim to those depths and one will always be standing on the shore--but now my shore is littered with noises: Group planning, writing, reading, conferences, travel, navigating relations with other faiths, navigating relations with my family, navigating dumbass Witch politics--these things are the screaming tourists, the lifeguard megaphones and the motorboats of an otherwise peaceful area.
In addition to making time twice a day to connect with my Gods in the simple, innocent way I once did (to the best of my abilities...), but also making sure I place as much personal spiritual experience in our Sabbats as do the Group members. It's too easy to get caught up in the "who goes where," "what happens now..." "no one is getting possessed, are they???" mess of it. I'm also bad to not give full thought to my gifts and offerings at Sabbats--taking the stance of, "I got everyone here--isn't that enough?" No, Weber. It's not enough.
I've asked our members to bring a non-toxic offering to leave at the Cedar tree to thank the Gods for the gifts of the past year. I have decided to bring an apple, a vial of salt water, a gourd, and a handful of Carolina Aromatic Rice. Here's why:
THE APPLE: For what I have learned.
For my 3rd Degree Initiation. For the lessons I've learned through writing and running the rituals. For the classes I took at Union. For the people I've met who've taught me things. For the Spirits I've encountered who gave me messages. For the time with my teachers. For the things I've learned from our members. For the books I've read. For the messages in the music I've listened to. For the revelations in meditation. For the things I've learned from the students in the classes that I've taught.
SALT WATER: For the tears I've cried.
Good GOD. Haven't cried so many goddamned tears since the seventh grade. Tears of stress, tears of fear. Tears of being in love and having that beautiful love returned. The tears in the trials I faced with this love. The tears in being let down by this love. The tears in saying goodbye. The tears in anger. The tears in guilt. The tears in being loved by friends and members of the community. The tears in hearing kind words. The tears of joy in giving my Goddaughters their first spiritual exercise. The tears of being forgiven for something I long felt guilty for (as in...nearly 20 years of feeling bad....). The tears of hope. The shared tears with those who also lost. But tears teach us the depth of our heart. They teach us compassion and understanding for others. Only when one knows true sadness can one appreciate true joy. My heart is bigger now, stretched by the tears it created and shed in the past year. I thank those who helped create them, and I thank those who washed them away. Tears are cleansing. I'm pretty damned clean, as a result. And it's not just the juice fast.
THE GOURD: For my health.
It's seasonal, it's healthy, it comes from the earth itself in a variety of gorgeous colors and textures. I weathered through the year on very little sleep and high stress, for most of it, and am thankful for the minimal number of colds or otherwise ailments. The IUD was the most painful thing I experienced this year. It may be the MOST painful thing I ever experienced--at least since I got my braces at 12. But that's all I really have to complain about.
RICE: For the time I spent with my family.
I grew closer to my family this year than ever before. Carolina Aromatic Rice. It was appropriate.
As we walked through the park today to leave the offerings at the base of the tree, I was elated. I was thankful. I really have an awesome life.
Now that the cold sweats have vanished and the trembling subsided (YES!!! IF YOU'RE WONDERING!!! IT'S THAT FUCKING BAD!!!!)
Anyway.
Our Group's Mabon celebration is this coming weekend. I've realized recently, as I've mentioned before, how somehow I fell out of touch with my own connection to the Mysteries. Witchcraft felt, in the beginning, like I was standing on the shore of a great mysterious ocean, letting the pearly waves lap at my toes and beckon me to join. Someday, I would swim to its depths. I now know there is never fully a way to swim to those depths and one will always be standing on the shore--but now my shore is littered with noises: Group planning, writing, reading, conferences, travel, navigating relations with other faiths, navigating relations with my family, navigating dumbass Witch politics--these things are the screaming tourists, the lifeguard megaphones and the motorboats of an otherwise peaceful area.
In addition to making time twice a day to connect with my Gods in the simple, innocent way I once did (to the best of my abilities...), but also making sure I place as much personal spiritual experience in our Sabbats as do the Group members. It's too easy to get caught up in the "who goes where," "what happens now..." "no one is getting possessed, are they???" mess of it. I'm also bad to not give full thought to my gifts and offerings at Sabbats--taking the stance of, "I got everyone here--isn't that enough?" No, Weber. It's not enough.
I've asked our members to bring a non-toxic offering to leave at the Cedar tree to thank the Gods for the gifts of the past year. I have decided to bring an apple, a vial of salt water, a gourd, and a handful of Carolina Aromatic Rice. Here's why:
THE APPLE: For what I have learned.
For my 3rd Degree Initiation. For the lessons I've learned through writing and running the rituals. For the classes I took at Union. For the people I've met who've taught me things. For the Spirits I've encountered who gave me messages. For the time with my teachers. For the things I've learned from our members. For the books I've read. For the messages in the music I've listened to. For the revelations in meditation. For the things I've learned from the students in the classes that I've taught.
SALT WATER: For the tears I've cried.
Good GOD. Haven't cried so many goddamned tears since the seventh grade. Tears of stress, tears of fear. Tears of being in love and having that beautiful love returned. The tears in the trials I faced with this love. The tears in being let down by this love. The tears in saying goodbye. The tears in anger. The tears in guilt. The tears in being loved by friends and members of the community. The tears in hearing kind words. The tears of joy in giving my Goddaughters their first spiritual exercise. The tears of being forgiven for something I long felt guilty for (as in...nearly 20 years of feeling bad....). The tears of hope. The shared tears with those who also lost. But tears teach us the depth of our heart. They teach us compassion and understanding for others. Only when one knows true sadness can one appreciate true joy. My heart is bigger now, stretched by the tears it created and shed in the past year. I thank those who helped create them, and I thank those who washed them away. Tears are cleansing. I'm pretty damned clean, as a result. And it's not just the juice fast.
THE GOURD: For my health.
It's seasonal, it's healthy, it comes from the earth itself in a variety of gorgeous colors and textures. I weathered through the year on very little sleep and high stress, for most of it, and am thankful for the minimal number of colds or otherwise ailments. The IUD was the most painful thing I experienced this year. It may be the MOST painful thing I ever experienced--at least since I got my braces at 12. But that's all I really have to complain about.
RICE: For the time I spent with my family.
I grew closer to my family this year than ever before. Carolina Aromatic Rice. It was appropriate.
As we walked through the park today to leave the offerings at the base of the tree, I was elated. I was thankful. I really have an awesome life.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Today is a good day. ;)
I was interviewed this morning for a book a very nice woman is writing on the Craft. It was great fun. Her eye-opening moments, connecting with me on shared experiences. "Prophetic dreams? Yeah!" "Spirits coming in the middle of the night? Totally!" "Some kind of kinetic connection to being the first born daughter? Me too!!!" It took me back to the early days in the Craft when I was discovering everything and giddy with the same intoxication the Born-agains spout. I think it's important in the paths of all clergy, go back to the romantic, moonlit beginnings of your time in the Craft. It's quite easy to get mulled in Witch politics, scheduling stuff, reading books and defending yourself at holiday get togethers with the fam. (By the way-- this week I've had to add "Seducing Husbands 30 Years My Senior" and "Plotting and Magickally Strategizing to End Relationships As A Way To Gain Power" to the most recent list of things that I'm "guilty" of. Frankly, I had no idea I was up to these things. *sigh.*)
Meeting her was refreshing. I was back in my parents' yard, summoning a nameless Moon Goddess, who appeared before my very sober eyes, and embracing Her light again. I don't know when I strayed from what I started on, but I hope She doesn't leave me behind again, or me leave Her behind, either.
I don't know if I'm a good leader--but I figure I must not be a bad leader. I just have to remember that this Group was given to me as a job--for now. I'm providing a place for people to worship their Gods and Goddesses, and find community with like-minded others. If I provide that, even if I'm not sure if I'm good, I know I'm not bad. And as a Witch I know there is never a good or bad, but varying degrees of both.
The rest of the day I spent in the park with my goddaughters and Bella. An old-timey Christian group sang hymns on a large stage. I requested "Hoof and Horn," but they didn't play it. I then went to see "9" with Jorge. We both liked it. It was a good day.
Meeting her was refreshing. I was back in my parents' yard, summoning a nameless Moon Goddess, who appeared before my very sober eyes, and embracing Her light again. I don't know when I strayed from what I started on, but I hope She doesn't leave me behind again, or me leave Her behind, either.
I don't know if I'm a good leader--but I figure I must not be a bad leader. I just have to remember that this Group was given to me as a job--for now. I'm providing a place for people to worship their Gods and Goddesses, and find community with like-minded others. If I provide that, even if I'm not sure if I'm good, I know I'm not bad. And as a Witch I know there is never a good or bad, but varying degrees of both.
The rest of the day I spent in the park with my goddaughters and Bella. An old-timey Christian group sang hymns on a large stage. I requested "Hoof and Horn," but they didn't play it. I then went to see "9" with Jorge. We both liked it. It was a good day.
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