the first of may, which began on may eve, was for the ancient celts one of the most sacred turning points in the wheel of the year. the festival of "bel's fire" marked the beginning of the celtic summer. (this is why the summer solstice is referred to as midsummer. it's midway between beltane and lughnasa - the first of the harvest festivals which marks the beginning of the autumn in the celtic world.)
this is a time when the veils between the worlds thin, when the faerie frolic, when it is especially possible to cross the fluid borders between this world and the Other.
i marked the setting of the sun tonight in a yoga class. ironically, i thought i was signing up for Gentle Yoga - and found myself in Yoga For Strength. i am sure i heard my angels snickering - they seem serious about the kickboxing if im not quite convinced.
as i struggled to maintain torturous variations of Proud Warrior through an interminable number of breaths, i felt a deep burning in my core, in my muscles, in my bones. find the courage, admonished the instructor, when i would have wavered. two more breaths, you can do it. and i did. most of the time. it was after all, just the first class.
may the fires of beltane burn forever in the summer of your soul. blessed be.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
called to kickbox
i know. i don't get it either. i do not understand why, after a near-decade of sedentary bliss, i am suddenly drawn to engage in a sport i have here-to-fore never evinced so much as an iota of interest in.
on the other hand, maybe i do.
the sport seems to require a certain focus, a certain drive... a certain intensity. and if there's one thing i have learned to understand that i am ... is intense.
Beloved is equally intense. it's undeniably part of the attraction and the glue that holds us together, even through hells like last week. Beloved studies chinese with dogged determinedness, driven by no need other than his own enjoyment and edification.
up until 8 years ago, i ran seven and a half miles five days a week, and worked out at a gym with a trainer for three hours every week. when i look back, i realize that the physical rigor somehow enabled me to endure the hell of my divorce. running all those miles - day after day - somehow kept me sane.
it was right around the time that the pressure finally eased, with my body feeling overtrained and tired, i stopped. over the years, i've dabbled - gone to gyms and trainers and classes and even run a few miles now and again. but nothing's stuck.
maybe it's too soon to think that this will. it feels good though... my body is pleasantly stretched in that gently achey way that tells you your muscles have earned their rest.
but there's another reason, a reason that roils under my skin. i can only write what i know, and marsia knows more things than i do. the bruises on my knuckles are already fading.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
on the other hand, maybe i do.
the sport seems to require a certain focus, a certain drive... a certain intensity. and if there's one thing i have learned to understand that i am ... is intense.
Beloved is equally intense. it's undeniably part of the attraction and the glue that holds us together, even through hells like last week. Beloved studies chinese with dogged determinedness, driven by no need other than his own enjoyment and edification.
up until 8 years ago, i ran seven and a half miles five days a week, and worked out at a gym with a trainer for three hours every week. when i look back, i realize that the physical rigor somehow enabled me to endure the hell of my divorce. running all those miles - day after day - somehow kept me sane.
it was right around the time that the pressure finally eased, with my body feeling overtrained and tired, i stopped. over the years, i've dabbled - gone to gyms and trainers and classes and even run a few miles now and again. but nothing's stuck.
maybe it's too soon to think that this will. it feels good though... my body is pleasantly stretched in that gently achey way that tells you your muscles have earned their rest.
but there's another reason, a reason that roils under my skin. i can only write what i know, and marsia knows more things than i do. the bruises on my knuckles are already fading.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
Monday, April 28, 2008
work is the Word
...for the day according to my book of daily meditations, and i have a lot of it to do. the energy of this season is propelling me forward into a mad rush of days. the upcoming weeks are shaping up to be uncommonly busy.
one of the activities for which i must prepare is a two day "retreat" into writing and creativity. going anywhere for me, automatically represents not a withdrawal from the world, but an invasion into it.
it's been a long time since i have sought out the company of fellow-writers in the flesh. my interactions with my kind are largely confined to the cybercommunity, who form a kind of communal watering hole where i can go and sip my fill in the comfort of my own keyboard.
but the season demands a fresh approach, a new experience, a push into uncharted and unknown territory. and so, i prepare to go to a place called Wisdom House... feeling quite the Fool.
one of the activities for which i must prepare is a two day "retreat" into writing and creativity. going anywhere for me, automatically represents not a withdrawal from the world, but an invasion into it.
it's been a long time since i have sought out the company of fellow-writers in the flesh. my interactions with my kind are largely confined to the cybercommunity, who form a kind of communal watering hole where i can go and sip my fill in the comfort of my own keyboard.
but the season demands a fresh approach, a new experience, a push into uncharted and unknown territory. and so, i prepare to go to a place called Wisdom House... feeling quite the Fool.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
it's saturday morning... again
the film show boat ends differently from the book. in the book, the heroine, miranda, and her hero, a deftly drawn rendering of a riverboat gambler-sot-badboy named of all things, gaylord ravenal, end up anything but happy and together.
but in the film, miranda and gaylord find their way back to each other, and, after appropriate trials and challenges (as well as a few of my favorite show tunes), stroll off arm in arm along the riverbank, as a delighted capn andy beams from the deck of the showboat, whose name eludes me at the moment. "it's saturday morning, again," he says, with an approving twinkle and a puff of his cigar.
all relationships have their mondays and their saturdays, and some mondays seem like they drag on forever. there's more than a little bit of gaylord ravenal in the soul of my Beloved, and more than a touch of madness in mine. mixed together, they sometimes combust in a most soul-searing way.
but somehow, out of the ashes of monday, it's saturday morning, again.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
but in the film, miranda and gaylord find their way back to each other, and, after appropriate trials and challenges (as well as a few of my favorite show tunes), stroll off arm in arm along the riverbank, as a delighted capn andy beams from the deck of the showboat, whose name eludes me at the moment. "it's saturday morning, again," he says, with an approving twinkle and a puff of his cigar.
all relationships have their mondays and their saturdays, and some mondays seem like they drag on forever. there's more than a little bit of gaylord ravenal in the soul of my Beloved, and more than a touch of madness in mine. mixed together, they sometimes combust in a most soul-searing way.
but somehow, out of the ashes of monday, it's saturday morning, again.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
advice sought
dear gentle readers and fellow bloggers:
i am in need of some advice regarding a certain person in my life who i am almost certain has morphed from prince to toad. please tell me if you think i am being overly sensitive in this matter.
here is what happened.
lo these many years ago, long before the Person In Question (PIQ) ever met me or even knew how to work a computer, a young receptionist (Q) came to work at the same wall street firm that he did. Q was some 14 or 15 years younger than PIQ is, with dazzling blue eyes, and a pair of boobs - all real - of such enormous proportions you could use them for flotation devices - separately.
they flirted on and off and when PIQ separated from his first wife, and Q separated from her highly abusive ex, they became Friends-with-Benefits. she even told him she didn't want to be his girlfriend. (they both told me this, on separate occasions.) indeed, PIQ could've gone out with Q on that fateful new-years eve we met, but he asked me instead - just to give you some idea of the depth of their involvement. at the time, she lived in another state, and was in the middle of her own messy divorce. after PIQ and i met, she dropped back down to friend status.
within a year or so, Q moved back to the area. i actually liked her. she is - or was - an amazingly beautiful woman, a little shallow but a lot of fun - the quintessential party-hearty girl. when PIQ went to work for another even bigger wall street firm, Q got a job with the same firm, in a different office a couple towns over. what neither of us liked was the way PIQ was an amazingly incredibly insensitive boar when she was around. i remember i said to her once, in tears...im so sorry we can't be better friends. (for example, PIQ would make these embarrassing freudian slips: breast for best... chest for test... shirt for skirt..you get the picture?) she lost her job, asked him for a reference, but blamed him when she didn't get the new job. they didn't part friends.
so..... last night PIQ comes home from meeting New Buddy (NB) and NB tells PIQ how he met this guy who worked with PIQ lo those many years at the bigger wall street firm, and the thing he remembered most about PIQ was that he had "the hottest girlfriend."
and PIQ, who doesnt seem to remember that *I* was his girlfriend at that time, and had been for some time, that Q was NEVER his girlfriend - certainly never in the same sense i was (didn't even WANT to be his girlfriend) - that when they worked at that particular firm, they werent in the same office and no one knew if they hung out on the weekends or even after work on occasion...PLUS *I* was working at the time in a neighboring building, we ate lunch together practically every day...we met each other at each other's offices and were always getting introduced to each other's coworkers....PIQ ASSUMES for some reason known only to him and his god (he admitted that) that the guy NB met is talking about Q and says something to the effect of:
well, no matter how hot Q was, i wouldn't trade annie for anything.
it really hurts me to think that "hottest girlfriend" in PIQ's head doesn't automatically equal me. i know he didn't mean to hurt me and his feelings ARE his feelings, and to his way of thinking, i should feel complimented.
but if HE doesn't understand why im insulted and hurt, do you?
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
i am in need of some advice regarding a certain person in my life who i am almost certain has morphed from prince to toad. please tell me if you think i am being overly sensitive in this matter.
here is what happened.
lo these many years ago, long before the Person In Question (PIQ) ever met me or even knew how to work a computer, a young receptionist (Q) came to work at the same wall street firm that he did. Q was some 14 or 15 years younger than PIQ is, with dazzling blue eyes, and a pair of boobs - all real - of such enormous proportions you could use them for flotation devices - separately.
they flirted on and off and when PIQ separated from his first wife, and Q separated from her highly abusive ex, they became Friends-with-Benefits. she even told him she didn't want to be his girlfriend. (they both told me this, on separate occasions.) indeed, PIQ could've gone out with Q on that fateful new-years eve we met, but he asked me instead - just to give you some idea of the depth of their involvement. at the time, she lived in another state, and was in the middle of her own messy divorce. after PIQ and i met, she dropped back down to friend status.
within a year or so, Q moved back to the area. i actually liked her. she is - or was - an amazingly beautiful woman, a little shallow but a lot of fun - the quintessential party-hearty girl. when PIQ went to work for another even bigger wall street firm, Q got a job with the same firm, in a different office a couple towns over. what neither of us liked was the way PIQ was an amazingly incredibly insensitive boar when she was around. i remember i said to her once, in tears...im so sorry we can't be better friends. (for example, PIQ would make these embarrassing freudian slips: breast for best... chest for test... shirt for skirt..you get the picture?) she lost her job, asked him for a reference, but blamed him when she didn't get the new job. they didn't part friends.
so..... last night PIQ comes home from meeting New Buddy (NB) and NB tells PIQ how he met this guy who worked with PIQ lo those many years at the bigger wall street firm, and the thing he remembered most about PIQ was that he had "the hottest girlfriend."
and PIQ, who doesnt seem to remember that *I* was his girlfriend at that time, and had been for some time, that Q was NEVER his girlfriend - certainly never in the same sense i was (didn't even WANT to be his girlfriend) - that when they worked at that particular firm, they werent in the same office and no one knew if they hung out on the weekends or even after work on occasion...PLUS *I* was working at the time in a neighboring building, we ate lunch together practically every day...we met each other at each other's offices and were always getting introduced to each other's coworkers....PIQ ASSUMES for some reason known only to him and his god (he admitted that) that the guy NB met is talking about Q and says something to the effect of:
well, no matter how hot Q was, i wouldn't trade annie for anything.
it really hurts me to think that "hottest girlfriend" in PIQ's head doesn't automatically equal me. i know he didn't mean to hurt me and his feelings ARE his feelings, and to his way of thinking, i should feel complimented.
but if HE doesn't understand why im insulted and hurt, do you?
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
under a scorpio moon
i accomplished an amazing amount - for me, anyway - this weekend. i spent at least three hours in the gardens - maybe four. the center plots are cleaned, raked, weeded and the first round of annuals planted - pansies and sweet alyssum.
i reclaimed a garden that has been allowed to run amok lo these many years, but its one of the faerie gardens, and so the plants were amazingly cooperative. my little center plot - the one i've been waging a pyrrhic war with for the last six years - seems to have come under the spell of the yarrow, the artemisa and the echinacea. or maybe its the sweet william, thyme and russian sage that seems to have conquered the will of anything else that wants to grow there. we had a relatively mild winter too, and i have learned to mulch that garden well, so maybe that's what did the trick. or maybe the faeries who live under the rocks decided to help out in that one, too.
i trimmed back all the ivy that grows by the back garden steps, chopping and tugging away what seemed like years of untrammeled growth. as i cut and raked and pulled and swept, it occured to me that without focus and care, even the best laid intentions and plans 'gang aft awry' as robert burns so eloquently put it. the ivy yielded to my brand new shears surprisingly easily. i think it was glad for the trim, too.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
i reclaimed a garden that has been allowed to run amok lo these many years, but its one of the faerie gardens, and so the plants were amazingly cooperative. my little center plot - the one i've been waging a pyrrhic war with for the last six years - seems to have come under the spell of the yarrow, the artemisa and the echinacea. or maybe its the sweet william, thyme and russian sage that seems to have conquered the will of anything else that wants to grow there. we had a relatively mild winter too, and i have learned to mulch that garden well, so maybe that's what did the trick. or maybe the faeries who live under the rocks decided to help out in that one, too.
i trimmed back all the ivy that grows by the back garden steps, chopping and tugging away what seemed like years of untrammeled growth. as i cut and raked and pulled and swept, it occured to me that without focus and care, even the best laid intentions and plans 'gang aft awry' as robert burns so eloquently put it. the ivy yielded to my brand new shears surprisingly easily. i think it was glad for the trim, too.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
ode to the scorpio moon
moon-lady gleams like a bone in the night,
rending the darkness with shadows so bright,
lighting up poets and madmen like me,
outshining the stars that hang on the trees.
if april really is the cruellest month, its full moon in scorpio may explain why. scorpio, ruled by pluto, is the sign of secrets and assassins, of madmen and illusion and delusion. its energy is intense as the oceans' depths that never see the light, as inevitable as the death brought by a scorpion's sting. under a scorpio moon, we have the opportunity to strip all our delusions away, to see ourselves not as we might prefer, but as we truly are.
as it happens, i spent part of the day with one of my favorite scorpios. (my ascendant is scorpio - whenever i'm with a scorpio, i like to keep in mind that what i appear to be, they really are. it helps me stay on my toes, because one never wants to be lulled too deeply into complacency with a scorpio around.) we spoke of dreams and visions, translations and manifestations, charges and journeys. what is your dream, she challenged me - what is your vision, your mission, your charge? where will the journey take you next?
two years ago at christmas, i received a compass from a dear friend who's gone sort of MIA lately. a year ago, i received my friend Lorraine's car. taken symbolically, as a set of three, these form a powerful message.
for the next two weeks, as the moon sinks down into the new moon in taurus - the sign of ultimate manifestation if ever there was one, i intend to shape my intention, gently, gradually, following this most ruthlessly honest of all moons down to the dark...and see what Dreams, indeed, may come.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
rending the darkness with shadows so bright,
lighting up poets and madmen like me,
outshining the stars that hang on the trees.
if april really is the cruellest month, its full moon in scorpio may explain why. scorpio, ruled by pluto, is the sign of secrets and assassins, of madmen and illusion and delusion. its energy is intense as the oceans' depths that never see the light, as inevitable as the death brought by a scorpion's sting. under a scorpio moon, we have the opportunity to strip all our delusions away, to see ourselves not as we might prefer, but as we truly are.
as it happens, i spent part of the day with one of my favorite scorpios. (my ascendant is scorpio - whenever i'm with a scorpio, i like to keep in mind that what i appear to be, they really are. it helps me stay on my toes, because one never wants to be lulled too deeply into complacency with a scorpio around.) we spoke of dreams and visions, translations and manifestations, charges and journeys. what is your dream, she challenged me - what is your vision, your mission, your charge? where will the journey take you next?
two years ago at christmas, i received a compass from a dear friend who's gone sort of MIA lately. a year ago, i received my friend Lorraine's car. taken symbolically, as a set of three, these form a powerful message.
for the next two weeks, as the moon sinks down into the new moon in taurus - the sign of ultimate manifestation if ever there was one, i intend to shape my intention, gently, gradually, following this most ruthlessly honest of all moons down to the dark...and see what Dreams, indeed, may come.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
eight blissful hours
...of uninterrupted sleep and i feel new as the april morning shining outside my window. well...maybe not quite that new, but nearly. the gardens are calling me, the weeds are taunting me, but marsia is running rampamt through my head and i owe debby eight tweaked chapters of rigged.
im looking forward to this afternoon's workshop at rose's. vietnamese food sounds good for dinner. if i get the chapters done, and take a stab at the weeds, i may even have time to stop and buy flowers.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
im looking forward to this afternoon's workshop at rose's. vietnamese food sounds good for dinner. if i get the chapters done, and take a stab at the weeds, i may even have time to stop and buy flowers.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
Friday, April 18, 2008
buddy got me beat
my big dog buddy whined every two to three hours last night - he had a tummyache. since i have only now recuperated from dealing with the effects of the hemmoraeghic gastroenteritis that both dogs had just about two months ago, i found myself leaping out of bed, throwing on enough clothes so i could stand to be out of bed.. and walking him. he pooped all three times.
but i am so tired today!
a reach into my bathroom cabinet this morning showed me im out of several necessities... like conditioner and heel balm. my car was nealy empty, too. so i filled up on gas, stopped at the drugstore, and decided that today is a day to take care of me.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
but i am so tired today!
a reach into my bathroom cabinet this morning showed me im out of several necessities... like conditioner and heel balm. my car was nealy empty, too. so i filled up on gas, stopped at the drugstore, and decided that today is a day to take care of me.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
and now a word from the Cranky Crone
i belong to an online forum for women called cafemom. most of the women are much younger than i am now, and it's odd to find myself among the Elders. it's a nice place for the most part - i've met a lot of wonderful women at all stages of their journeys. many of whom are married to a lot of really idiotic men.
don't get me wrong - there's many who are happily attached in mutually nurturing relationships. there's many men who are kind, caring, compassionate and mature. but there're a lot who aren't.
and they don't deserve the women who spend so much bemoaning what's wrong with themselves. so to all the women out there married to a man who seems impossible to get along with (immature, irresponsible, selfish, intolerant, etc) - YES, SISTER - HE IS.
and no, he doesn't deserve you. so leave his sorry ass by the roadside and go make a better life somewhere else for you and your kid. if he is really worth going back to, he will continue to help you in any way he can with the children. but if he's so messed up, he'd rather play a video game than change and feed a crying baby, don't bet on it.
posting that actually got me kicked out of one forum - i really don't play well with others - for not being positive. i don't understand. being a single mother is much better than just feeling like one.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
don't get me wrong - there's many who are happily attached in mutually nurturing relationships. there's many men who are kind, caring, compassionate and mature. but there're a lot who aren't.
and they don't deserve the women who spend so much bemoaning what's wrong with themselves. so to all the women out there married to a man who seems impossible to get along with (immature, irresponsible, selfish, intolerant, etc) - YES, SISTER - HE IS.
and no, he doesn't deserve you. so leave his sorry ass by the roadside and go make a better life somewhere else for you and your kid. if he is really worth going back to, he will continue to help you in any way he can with the children. but if he's so messed up, he'd rather play a video game than change and feed a crying baby, don't bet on it.
posting that actually got me kicked out of one forum - i really don't play well with others - for not being positive. i don't understand. being a single mother is much better than just feeling like one.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
patterns of spring
the days have taken on a pattern of chilly nights and frosty dawns, followed by dazzling mornings and almost-warm late afternoons. the underbrush is alive with the dash and dart of small furred creatures, birds swoop and trill through the trees. a carpet of emerald is spreading from the sunniest patches of lawn to the edges of the ponds.
it's only been two or three days, but it feels like a pattern to me.
we humans have evolved to look for patterns from birth. structure, solace, evidence that we fit into a world that has a place for us - a pattern into which we fit and thus belong - all these things are so critical that whether there is one or not, we frequently rush to create one.
my weeks have evolved into a rhythm around baby jake - three days of what feels like frantic activity puncutated by two days of being grateful if i get half of what's on my list done. yesterday i was grateful i got anything done - baby jake was fussy from his shots. if my friend susan hadn't shown up quite fortuitiously, i would've had to wake him from a very much needed nap. (speaking of my friend susan, i intend to kidnap her some day soon and take her to my wise-women healer-friends for reiki and reflexology...she lurks on this blog... she can consider herself warned.)
patterns are not rigid things - though i think many of us might wish they were. patterns rise up, fall apart, rise up again. as above, so below. as within, so without.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
it's only been two or three days, but it feels like a pattern to me.
we humans have evolved to look for patterns from birth. structure, solace, evidence that we fit into a world that has a place for us - a pattern into which we fit and thus belong - all these things are so critical that whether there is one or not, we frequently rush to create one.
my weeks have evolved into a rhythm around baby jake - three days of what feels like frantic activity puncutated by two days of being grateful if i get half of what's on my list done. yesterday i was grateful i got anything done - baby jake was fussy from his shots. if my friend susan hadn't shown up quite fortuitiously, i would've had to wake him from a very much needed nap. (speaking of my friend susan, i intend to kidnap her some day soon and take her to my wise-women healer-friends for reiki and reflexology...she lurks on this blog... she can consider herself warned.)
patterns are not rigid things - though i think many of us might wish they were. patterns rise up, fall apart, rise up again. as above, so below. as within, so without.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
Monday, April 14, 2008
fast forward
at least... that's how it feels. i took yesterday off... spent much of the day writing, reading, napping or talking to my friend cheryl - one of the cosi girls, in fact. i found a novel to read that actually held my attention all the way through - the thirteenth tale by diane sutterfield. not quite as twisted as i would've liked - there were things hinted at that never got quite as much illumination as i'd've preferred - i wanted it made clearer, for example, that the weird twins were the result of brother/sister incest, but the nameless product of rape kid was a nice spooky touch, and all in all, an excellent read.
oh yes, the cosi girls saga continues... stay tuned for an update.. coming to this blog soon.
on other fronts, the political thriller my friend debby and i are writing together is practically writing itself. our strengths are so perfectly complimentary its almost eerie - im a big picture plotter person - she is a detail oriented character creator who has a gift for subtle pathos. she also knows this world we're writing about like the back of her hand so it all sounds... REAL. i DONT know the world at all, so for me, it feels like im stumbling around with a blindfold, feeling my way through the story. what amazes me is how much i get RIGHT.
blood moon is back - marsia has seized control of the story, and is now the focus of chapter one, while the prologue now centers on tavia and not dear dead caius. it's hard to start a book with a character who's dead by the end of his scene.
today is a day for chores and running around and following up and being interviewed with laura for an article in simsbury life. theres food to buy and phone calls to make and libby has a dentist appointment at three oclock. im hopeful that tomorrow i may actually have time and inclination for the garden (not to mention new gloves) while baby jake naps.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
oh yes, the cosi girls saga continues... stay tuned for an update.. coming to this blog soon.
on other fronts, the political thriller my friend debby and i are writing together is practically writing itself. our strengths are so perfectly complimentary its almost eerie - im a big picture plotter person - she is a detail oriented character creator who has a gift for subtle pathos. she also knows this world we're writing about like the back of her hand so it all sounds... REAL. i DONT know the world at all, so for me, it feels like im stumbling around with a blindfold, feeling my way through the story. what amazes me is how much i get RIGHT.
blood moon is back - marsia has seized control of the story, and is now the focus of chapter one, while the prologue now centers on tavia and not dear dead caius. it's hard to start a book with a character who's dead by the end of his scene.
today is a day for chores and running around and following up and being interviewed with laura for an article in simsbury life. theres food to buy and phone calls to make and libby has a dentist appointment at three oclock. im hopeful that tomorrow i may actually have time and inclination for the garden (not to mention new gloves) while baby jake naps.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
this misty, moisty morning...
i woke to find Beloved and i alone with the puppies. libby was scarfed up by meg and taken on a shopping trip to Target to (finally) buy my birthday present (im all for extending the celebration) - and never brought home.
the rain was warm and wet,the sky lit by phantom flickers of lightning - a harbinger of summer's storms. buddy was terrified. now the sky is brightening and i can see the birch buds swelling on the branches outside my window. Beloved is napping off the affects of the morning's exertions.
the house is absolutely silent, broken only by the birds' chirping, the waterfall's gurgling. the sunlight shines silver through the thinning clouds. the day stretches out before me like a plate, each hour tantalizing with the hope of some delight. peaceful morning, a discussion group with laura, possibilities of readings and the hope of old friends, a dinner watching the yankee game, attended by not just one man, but two.
i have no idea when i will next see libby.
it occurs to me that even as one season offers glimpses of the next, this morning offers me a glimpse into another life that's coming, sooner than i can probably believe. one morning, some day soon, Beloved and i will wake, alone with the puppies, and there will be no one else expected home.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
the rain was warm and wet,the sky lit by phantom flickers of lightning - a harbinger of summer's storms. buddy was terrified. now the sky is brightening and i can see the birch buds swelling on the branches outside my window. Beloved is napping off the affects of the morning's exertions.
the house is absolutely silent, broken only by the birds' chirping, the waterfall's gurgling. the sunlight shines silver through the thinning clouds. the day stretches out before me like a plate, each hour tantalizing with the hope of some delight. peaceful morning, a discussion group with laura, possibilities of readings and the hope of old friends, a dinner watching the yankee game, attended by not just one man, but two.
i have no idea when i will next see libby.
it occurs to me that even as one season offers glimpses of the next, this morning offers me a glimpse into another life that's coming, sooner than i can probably believe. one morning, some day soon, Beloved and i will wake, alone with the puppies, and there will be no one else expected home.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
Friday, April 11, 2008
spring's sprung
and with it... the race to get a jump on the flower beds. i noticed them this morning while i was walking the puppies - i've been avoiding looking at them too closely. along with the light and the birds and the green comes the weeds and the work.
the first order of business, therefore, was to go assess the state of the tools. a whole bucket of gardening implements, and gloves seems to have disappeared, so i guess the second order of business will be a stop at the feed store for stuff. this is not necessarily a good thing, since i have a terrible feeling that this need for stuff could get quickly out of hand, particularly when it comes to small green growing things.
i happened to have a cup of coffee with my friend rose the other day. she, good green witch that she is, has been nursing trays of seedlings practically since imbolc. i looked at those lovely trays of fragile nurslings and felt what can only be described as a ferocious wave of baby lust.
it really is spring.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
the first order of business, therefore, was to go assess the state of the tools. a whole bucket of gardening implements, and gloves seems to have disappeared, so i guess the second order of business will be a stop at the feed store for stuff. this is not necessarily a good thing, since i have a terrible feeling that this need for stuff could get quickly out of hand, particularly when it comes to small green growing things.
i happened to have a cup of coffee with my friend rose the other day. she, good green witch that she is, has been nursing trays of seedlings practically since imbolc. i looked at those lovely trays of fragile nurslings and felt what can only be described as a ferocious wave of baby lust.
it really is spring.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
eating the angel way
for about a year now, i've been receiving a lot of Guidance around what i should and should not be eating. much of it is simply the common sense sort of stuff you would expect one to know after a lifetime's addiction to diet books, exercise manuals and women's magazines.
but a lot of it isn't.
in the last couple months, i've been prodded - directly asked, in fact, by people who come for me to readings - to share. now i can feel myself being nudged even more in that direction. the trouble is.. i feel absolutely in no way at all qualified to talk about these matters.
and yet...
my dear friend laura of the purple rose reminded me that if the Messages are from Spirit, it doesn't matter what i'm qualified to talk about. this morning in the shower, i was Reminded that edgar cayce gave all sorts of readings around health issues with no particular educational background i recall.
a few years ago, i was discussing a scene from one of my novels with another writer. the character was resistant, hesitant, uncertain of whether or not she should take on the task at hand, but i wasn't sure if that was the right way to play the scene or not. that's perfect, said my friend. the call is always refused.
at first.
yesterday, They told me that when it comes to our bodies, men are like raindrops and women are like snowflakes. gotta love those Angels.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
but a lot of it isn't.
in the last couple months, i've been prodded - directly asked, in fact, by people who come for me to readings - to share. now i can feel myself being nudged even more in that direction. the trouble is.. i feel absolutely in no way at all qualified to talk about these matters.
and yet...
my dear friend laura of the purple rose reminded me that if the Messages are from Spirit, it doesn't matter what i'm qualified to talk about. this morning in the shower, i was Reminded that edgar cayce gave all sorts of readings around health issues with no particular educational background i recall.
a few years ago, i was discussing a scene from one of my novels with another writer. the character was resistant, hesitant, uncertain of whether or not she should take on the task at hand, but i wasn't sure if that was the right way to play the scene or not. that's perfect, said my friend. the call is always refused.
at first.
yesterday, They told me that when it comes to our bodies, men are like raindrops and women are like snowflakes. gotta love those Angels.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
three questions from another blogger
this morning, i happened upon another blog (www.myspace.com/opti-mystic) that asked three interesting questions, so i'm copyiny them here, and ask you all to share, if you will...
a life-altering event, the movie you most identify with, and a song that's most you....
here's my answers.
other than the births of my children, i would have to say that the most recent life-altering event was the weekend my best friend's husband died in a car accident. i had such a strong premonition about a car accident and death - i even thought it was me who was going to die - that i could no longer ignore the Gift.
the movie i identify with is chocolat - i like to think i bring a little magic into peoples' lives... and it never hurts to fantasize about johnny depp as an irish gypsy ;).
the song - raglan road....
on raglan road, one autumn day, i saw him first and knew
that his dark hair would weave a snare that i would one day rue
i saw the danger, and yet i passed along the enchanted way,
and i said, let Grief be a falling leaf at the dawning of the day...
on grafton street in november, we tripped lightly along the ledge
of a deep ravine where can be seen the words of passions pledged.
the queen of hearts still making tarts, and i not making hay...
oh, i loved too much - by such, by such is happiness thrown away...
i gave him gifts of the mind, i gave him the secret sign
known to all the artists who have known true gods of sound and time
and words of tint, i did not stint, i gave him poems to say
with his own name there, and his long dark hair, like clouds over fields of may...
on a quiet street, where old ghosts meet, i see him walking on
away from me so hurridly, my reason must allow
that i had wooed not as i should, a creature made of clay
when the angel woos the clay, she looses her wings at dawn of day....
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
a life-altering event, the movie you most identify with, and a song that's most you....
here's my answers.
other than the births of my children, i would have to say that the most recent life-altering event was the weekend my best friend's husband died in a car accident. i had such a strong premonition about a car accident and death - i even thought it was me who was going to die - that i could no longer ignore the Gift.
the movie i identify with is chocolat - i like to think i bring a little magic into peoples' lives... and it never hurts to fantasize about johnny depp as an irish gypsy ;).
the song - raglan road....
on raglan road, one autumn day, i saw him first and knew
that his dark hair would weave a snare that i would one day rue
i saw the danger, and yet i passed along the enchanted way,
and i said, let Grief be a falling leaf at the dawning of the day...
on grafton street in november, we tripped lightly along the ledge
of a deep ravine where can be seen the words of passions pledged.
the queen of hearts still making tarts, and i not making hay...
oh, i loved too much - by such, by such is happiness thrown away...
i gave him gifts of the mind, i gave him the secret sign
known to all the artists who have known true gods of sound and time
and words of tint, i did not stint, i gave him poems to say
with his own name there, and his long dark hair, like clouds over fields of may...
on a quiet street, where old ghosts meet, i see him walking on
away from me so hurridly, my reason must allow
that i had wooed not as i should, a creature made of clay
when the angel woos the clay, she looses her wings at dawn of day....
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
tending baby jake
for the next six weeks, my tuesdays and thursdays are committed to taking care of baby jake while my oldest daughter, his mommy, works, and my middle daughter, his babysitter, goes to school. this grandmother thing is an interesting journey in and of itself.
i remember the first day i had him in my care. he woke up from his first nap. libby, my youngest, is only 14, but suddenly it felt like lightyears since i'd taken care of an infant for any length of time. i picked him up, changed his diaper, all the while wondering what to do next.
i buttoned his snaps, pulled up his little sweatpants. and suddenly it clicked. i knew exactly what to do. it's time for lunch, i said.
it was something like the feeling i have when i get on a bicycle. i don't consciously remember knowing how to ride one, but somehow, my bones and muscles and joints all seem to.
baby jake is an even-tempered baby, who nonetheless, as meg acutely observed, might be described in classical baby terms as "slow to warm up." he isn't sure whether he likes me or not, but i can tell he's starting to trust - if not me - then the memories contained in my hands, in my arms, in my shoulders of rocking and soothing and changing and feeding.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be!
i remember the first day i had him in my care. he woke up from his first nap. libby, my youngest, is only 14, but suddenly it felt like lightyears since i'd taken care of an infant for any length of time. i picked him up, changed his diaper, all the while wondering what to do next.
i buttoned his snaps, pulled up his little sweatpants. and suddenly it clicked. i knew exactly what to do. it's time for lunch, i said.
it was something like the feeling i have when i get on a bicycle. i don't consciously remember knowing how to ride one, but somehow, my bones and muscles and joints all seem to.
baby jake is an even-tempered baby, who nonetheless, as meg acutely observed, might be described in classical baby terms as "slow to warm up." he isn't sure whether he likes me or not, but i can tell he's starting to trust - if not me - then the memories contained in my hands, in my arms, in my shoulders of rocking and soothing and changing and feeding.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be!
Monday, April 7, 2008
visioning the light
for the first time in a long time this morning, i was able to light the candles on my altar and not fear setting something on fire. i didn't need to turn the light by the back door to walk the puppies. even under the blanket of sodden gray clouds, i can feel the sun growing stronger. patches of emerald green are spreading along the borders of the lawn, the buds on the birches outside my window are swelling. the silver willow across the pond looks yellow in the pewter dawn.
my meditation for the day suggested that to welcome the burgeoning light, i honor and recognize the Light in me. to that effect, i have already treadmilled for 20 minutes, folded laundry and driven libby up the hill. i have plans to continue more in the same vein. i have an article to finish, a class to teach this evening in Advanced Tarot. (the story of the mouse ended happily - i bought a new mouse and a new keyboard. now i have letters!)
but first, on this soft gray morning, i will first indulge in that most ancient Rite of Spring... and join Beloved back in bed. ;)
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
my meditation for the day suggested that to welcome the burgeoning light, i honor and recognize the Light in me. to that effect, i have already treadmilled for 20 minutes, folded laundry and driven libby up the hill. i have plans to continue more in the same vein. i have an article to finish, a class to teach this evening in Advanced Tarot. (the story of the mouse ended happily - i bought a new mouse and a new keyboard. now i have letters!)
but first, on this soft gray morning, i will first indulge in that most ancient Rite of Spring... and join Beloved back in bed. ;)
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
the mouse that died
i've always hated mice. my mother is not a fan of the small furry creatures at all, mostly because when she was 9 years old and wearing thick heavy tights, one ran up her leg. maybe it's genetic, maybe it's cultural inculcation. whatever it is, we're not fond of cats either, and so a certain state of detente mostly exists between my family and the rodents.
this dislike of mice transferred itself to the computer tool similiarly named. i didnt see the point of one, initially and for quite a while, when i first used a computer, i resisted using a mouse at all. unfortunately, the direction keys proved ultimately too unwieldy, and i was forced to accept and allow a thing called a mouse to become an integral part of my life.
so now that mine is dead - a cute little wireless version that operates on battery - i find myself adrift. im using Beloved's computer to type this. because its sunday, the mouse store won't open til TEN AM.... which has actually forced me to finish up the last bit of unpacking and putting away in my writing room. i have a few more pictures to hang, but other than a quick dusting and vacuuming, i think the room is almost ready for me to photograph and post - or even, to entertain visitors - both the invited ones, and those who are always welcome :).
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
this dislike of mice transferred itself to the computer tool similiarly named. i didnt see the point of one, initially and for quite a while, when i first used a computer, i resisted using a mouse at all. unfortunately, the direction keys proved ultimately too unwieldy, and i was forced to accept and allow a thing called a mouse to become an integral part of my life.
so now that mine is dead - a cute little wireless version that operates on battery - i find myself adrift. im using Beloved's computer to type this. because its sunday, the mouse store won't open til TEN AM.... which has actually forced me to finish up the last bit of unpacking and putting away in my writing room. i have a few more pictures to hang, but other than a quick dusting and vacuuming, i think the room is almost ready for me to photograph and post - or even, to entertain visitors - both the invited ones, and those who are always welcome :).
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
under an aries moon
the new moon in aries is the time of year for new beginnings. according to the julian calendar, new year's day was celebrated on march 25 - a date associated with the conception of jesus, the vernal equinox, and the spring moon.
under the steady pattering of yesterday's rain, the earth is turning into puddles of mud and patches of startling green, the woods are noisy in the mornings now, and even the peepers have woken. the chamomile bed made it through the winter, the chives are poking their way up through the mulch of pine needles. across from the chamomile, the artemesias preen in soft gray puffs.
two novels have shouldered their way to the forefront - the political thriller, which is now over 10,000 words, and the fantasy, where the characters are revealing themselves in ever more lurid detail. i have an article to write on fairies, and one on raising daughters.
today im doing readings using the new tarot deck i was asked to review. i think after today i will be able to write it...tarot cards are like languages... some are easier for different people to speak than others...
but this morning, before i do anything else.... i am determined to finish my writing room!!
and furthermore, the war must end...blessed be.
under the steady pattering of yesterday's rain, the earth is turning into puddles of mud and patches of startling green, the woods are noisy in the mornings now, and even the peepers have woken. the chamomile bed made it through the winter, the chives are poking their way up through the mulch of pine needles. across from the chamomile, the artemesias preen in soft gray puffs.
two novels have shouldered their way to the forefront - the political thriller, which is now over 10,000 words, and the fantasy, where the characters are revealing themselves in ever more lurid detail. i have an article to write on fairies, and one on raising daughters.
today im doing readings using the new tarot deck i was asked to review. i think after today i will be able to write it...tarot cards are like languages... some are easier for different people to speak than others...
but this morning, before i do anything else.... i am determined to finish my writing room!!
and furthermore, the war must end...blessed be.
Friday, April 4, 2008
ice cream and initiations
i came home from pagan study group last night to hear that the ice-cream boy who works at friendly's called libby. the ice-cream boy is a kid libby has had a crush on ever since she noticed him a few months ago. he was there last sunday when meg and libby and i were there. meg, fed up with her sister's giddy giggles over a kid she didn't know, left a note that said:
FOR THE ICE CREAM BOY - my name is libby and i think you're cute. call me if you want to talk to me. xxx-xxxx.
she's been screaming for an hour, Beloved said from the depths of the couch. well, who wouldn't be, i replied. the friendly ice-cream boy called her. and apparently the conversation went well.
our topic at study group was initiations - not a topic that sits easily on my skin. initiations smack of rituals and committments and rules - all things i'd rather do without. i'd rather slide around on the borders of things, and keep my committments close and few. but this was a rite of passage if ever i saw one - the first time libby saw a gutsy move pay off. it remains to be seen whether this particular baptism ends in fire or in balm.
the steady fall of april rain encourages me to stay in this morning, and complete the last of the tasks that will finish off my writing room. the new moon in aries tomorrow encourages me to start the year fresh with not so much a clean slate, but with a clean outlook, with perhaps more focus on the physical than i have paid it in a long time. it's interesting that both the readings i've done in the last few days have been about health and diet.
last night, my friend kim the kitchen witch brought homemade chocolate chip mint ice cream (special for my birthday - it's the only flavor of ice cream i really like or eat.) i have the rest in my freezer, and i think i'll end the final day of winter's moons with ice cream for breakfast.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
FOR THE ICE CREAM BOY - my name is libby and i think you're cute. call me if you want to talk to me. xxx-xxxx.
she's been screaming for an hour, Beloved said from the depths of the couch. well, who wouldn't be, i replied. the friendly ice-cream boy called her. and apparently the conversation went well.
our topic at study group was initiations - not a topic that sits easily on my skin. initiations smack of rituals and committments and rules - all things i'd rather do without. i'd rather slide around on the borders of things, and keep my committments close and few. but this was a rite of passage if ever i saw one - the first time libby saw a gutsy move pay off. it remains to be seen whether this particular baptism ends in fire or in balm.
the steady fall of april rain encourages me to stay in this morning, and complete the last of the tasks that will finish off my writing room. the new moon in aries tomorrow encourages me to start the year fresh with not so much a clean slate, but with a clean outlook, with perhaps more focus on the physical than i have paid it in a long time. it's interesting that both the readings i've done in the last few days have been about health and diet.
last night, my friend kim the kitchen witch brought homemade chocolate chip mint ice cream (special for my birthday - it's the only flavor of ice cream i really like or eat.) i have the rest in my freezer, and i think i'll end the final day of winter's moons with ice cream for breakfast.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
justice, revisited
a few months ago, i wrote a blog on justice - and how telling i think our iconic image of "Blind Justice" (the blindfolded lady with the sword) truly is.
a friend of mine who has been locked in a hellacious divorce from an abusive man got her decision from the judge yesterday.
to say she's disappointed is an understatement.
when my mother called me a communist, i asked her if she wasn't curious about what had changed her most conservative child into her most radical. characteristically, as i have come to realize, my mother looked at me blankly and said, no.
when i look back on the terrible years my parents were divorcing, i realize that the sole difference between my experience, and my children's - which was far more typical of so many children's - is that my father was a gentleman about it. what he had to give, he gave. whatever blow his pride and dignity and sense of self-worth suffered, he didn't make my mother suffer for it. and so, neither did we. (we suffered, but for other reasons.) as angry, as bewildered, as hurt, as he surely must've been, he did not allow his own pain to spill over onto the two little people who mattered most.
neither did Beloved. whatever issues drove him and his ex wife apart, Beloved's children wanted for nothing but two parents who lived together. and they, too, are the exceptions rather than the rule.
most men, realizing the marriage is over, turn vindictive and mean. the mother of their children becomes their enemy and in the process, the souls of the children become the field of battle. women, in desperation, turn to the courts for what they believe will be justice. but what the court understands to be justice and what women seek there, especially on behalf of their children, are two different things.
a few weeks ago, in court, my ex's attorney and the judge were discussing whether or not ray could be taken off the contempt list for non-payment so he wouldn't have to show back up in court the next day. after all, said his lawyer, it's less than $two thousand dollars.
there was a time not too long ago, when two thousand dollars would've sounded like a windfall of unimaginable, unreachable wealth to me. im sure two thousand dollars would go pretty far for most single moms with kids. you fucking bastard, i wanted to say. how dare you dismiss as paltry such a sum? had he no understanding of what two thousand dollars means? how many bags of groceries, how many socks, how many boots and mittens and notebooks and pens? haircuts and baby aspirins? diapers and formula? had he no fucking clue?
sure, said the judge, who clearly doesn't either.
i used to think the measure of a man was how he treated his mother. now i know that it's really how he treats his ex-wife.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
a friend of mine who has been locked in a hellacious divorce from an abusive man got her decision from the judge yesterday.
to say she's disappointed is an understatement.
when my mother called me a communist, i asked her if she wasn't curious about what had changed her most conservative child into her most radical. characteristically, as i have come to realize, my mother looked at me blankly and said, no.
when i look back on the terrible years my parents were divorcing, i realize that the sole difference between my experience, and my children's - which was far more typical of so many children's - is that my father was a gentleman about it. what he had to give, he gave. whatever blow his pride and dignity and sense of self-worth suffered, he didn't make my mother suffer for it. and so, neither did we. (we suffered, but for other reasons.) as angry, as bewildered, as hurt, as he surely must've been, he did not allow his own pain to spill over onto the two little people who mattered most.
neither did Beloved. whatever issues drove him and his ex wife apart, Beloved's children wanted for nothing but two parents who lived together. and they, too, are the exceptions rather than the rule.
most men, realizing the marriage is over, turn vindictive and mean. the mother of their children becomes their enemy and in the process, the souls of the children become the field of battle. women, in desperation, turn to the courts for what they believe will be justice. but what the court understands to be justice and what women seek there, especially on behalf of their children, are two different things.
a few weeks ago, in court, my ex's attorney and the judge were discussing whether or not ray could be taken off the contempt list for non-payment so he wouldn't have to show back up in court the next day. after all, said his lawyer, it's less than $two thousand dollars.
there was a time not too long ago, when two thousand dollars would've sounded like a windfall of unimaginable, unreachable wealth to me. im sure two thousand dollars would go pretty far for most single moms with kids. you fucking bastard, i wanted to say. how dare you dismiss as paltry such a sum? had he no understanding of what two thousand dollars means? how many bags of groceries, how many socks, how many boots and mittens and notebooks and pens? haircuts and baby aspirins? diapers and formula? had he no fucking clue?
sure, said the judge, who clearly doesn't either.
i used to think the measure of a man was how he treated his mother. now i know that it's really how he treats his ex-wife.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
pet rock
a few weeks ago, Beloved asked me over morning coffee if the mailman had left one of the small orange slips that inform us a package is waiting at the post office. when i assured Beloved one had not been left, he said, "hm. maybe it was just a dream."
are you expecting something, i asked, casually as possible. Beloved is always expecting something. he trolls the world via ebay and his enthusiasm, as well as more than a few of his issues, manifest in some rather unexpected and puzzling forms at times.
oh yes, replied Beloved. i'm always expecting something. but this is Something big.
a week or two later, he had another dream - very similiar to the first, about a slip arriving. are you sure, he pleaded with me. it was such a real dream.
im positive, i said. no slips. no packages. no Something big.
a few nights before my birthday, i woke to find Beloved poking through his pockets. that slip came yesterday, didn't it, he said. you showed it to me, right?
no, i said. i didn't.
on my birthday, Beloved was disappointed. that Something big was for you, he said. i hoped it would be here by today. i even dreamed it would be. he went off to work looking vexed and puzzled by the intensity of the dreams. i was so sure it would be here by your birthday, he kept muttering.
in the mail, there was an orange slip.
the Something big turned out to be a sixty lb fluorite* sphere, a polished crystal globe that is now sitting in the middle of my dining room table, dense and gleaming, alien as the landscape of mars, banded with colors that blur from indigo to violet to purple, from deep blue-green, to dark forest-green to pearl.
i realized yesterday i didn't include it as one of my presents and i think i realize why. this isn't something one owns. it isn't mine, any more than the air i'm breathing is mine, or the tree outside my window. it was here long before i was, and will remain when i am gone. i have another crystal globe, a yellow calcite sphere that was melted and reshaped. it's a beautiful object, cosmic, even, its clear depths, but it lacks the energy, the charge of this new one. the yellow calcite feels... cooked. the fluorite feels... alive.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
*with many thanks to my friend opti-mystic over on myspace:
FLUORITE:
Stone associated with enlightenment and healing on all the three planes – spiritual, mental and emotional. Diminishes stress and aids in spiritual awakening. Cleanses, balances and focuses energies on all levels of chakras. Grounds and protects aura from leakage of energy. On the physical body, it heals ailments of bones. Alleviates arthritis, strengthens bone tissue especially teeth enamel and relieves dental disease. Ancient cure for cancer. Also responds well to hormonal balance and hormonal changes like PMS, menopause. Arouses sexual energy. Quickens healing from pneumonia and viral inflammation.
are you expecting something, i asked, casually as possible. Beloved is always expecting something. he trolls the world via ebay and his enthusiasm, as well as more than a few of his issues, manifest in some rather unexpected and puzzling forms at times.
oh yes, replied Beloved. i'm always expecting something. but this is Something big.
a week or two later, he had another dream - very similiar to the first, about a slip arriving. are you sure, he pleaded with me. it was such a real dream.
im positive, i said. no slips. no packages. no Something big.
a few nights before my birthday, i woke to find Beloved poking through his pockets. that slip came yesterday, didn't it, he said. you showed it to me, right?
no, i said. i didn't.
on my birthday, Beloved was disappointed. that Something big was for you, he said. i hoped it would be here by today. i even dreamed it would be. he went off to work looking vexed and puzzled by the intensity of the dreams. i was so sure it would be here by your birthday, he kept muttering.
in the mail, there was an orange slip.
the Something big turned out to be a sixty lb fluorite* sphere, a polished crystal globe that is now sitting in the middle of my dining room table, dense and gleaming, alien as the landscape of mars, banded with colors that blur from indigo to violet to purple, from deep blue-green, to dark forest-green to pearl.
i realized yesterday i didn't include it as one of my presents and i think i realize why. this isn't something one owns. it isn't mine, any more than the air i'm breathing is mine, or the tree outside my window. it was here long before i was, and will remain when i am gone. i have another crystal globe, a yellow calcite sphere that was melted and reshaped. it's a beautiful object, cosmic, even, its clear depths, but it lacks the energy, the charge of this new one. the yellow calcite feels... cooked. the fluorite feels... alive.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
*with many thanks to my friend opti-mystic over on myspace:
FLUORITE:
Stone associated with enlightenment and healing on all the three planes – spiritual, mental and emotional. Diminishes stress and aids in spiritual awakening. Cleanses, balances and focuses energies on all levels of chakras. Grounds and protects aura from leakage of energy. On the physical body, it heals ailments of bones. Alleviates arthritis, strengthens bone tissue especially teeth enamel and relieves dental disease. Ancient cure for cancer. Also responds well to hormonal balance and hormonal changes like PMS, menopause. Arouses sexual energy. Quickens healing from pneumonia and viral inflammation.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
feast of fools
the first full month of spring dawned gray as march, but warm - so warm that for the first time in months, i didn't need a coat when i walked the puppies. the air felt like damp flannel, cottony and heavy and wet on my skin. i hear a cat bird calling in the birch trees, and a woodpecker knocking somewhere in the wood. i feel the world waking up.
i had a wonderful birthday. Beloved gave me, in addition to the black-sheep sweater and the books (the celtic way of seeing by frank maceowen; the celtic wheel of the year, by tess ward, sacred paths for modern men by dagonet dewr; and fairy houses everywhere! by barry and tracy kane) - a gift certificate for walking shoes; a new dog-walking coat, a tie-dye skirt, and a bottle of champagne. libby was sweet and pleasant and an absolute delight, and all the other children called. we had plans to go out for dinner, but because it was monday all the places i wanted to go to were closed. so i made a pork loin, and baked maple squash, and a broccoli carrot stir-fry. Beloved brought home strawberry cheesecake. my father sent an enormous bouquet, i parleyed my mother's $100 into a massage and lunch at my favorite tea-room. we curled up on the couch after dinner and watched a really bad movie until Beloved fell asleep. then i turned on sixth sense - its one of those movies that makes me feel almost normal.
today - the anniversary of the first day i ever saw - i plan to spend just being. baby jake is napping, full of cereal and pears. the second load of laundry is spinning, my evening's new-moon-in-aries meditation is planned. stew is simmering in the crockpot - im going to go mix up a meat loaf and freeze it before i do the morning's dishes. i have a bunch of bananas and a hydrangea to take to my grandmother when baby jake wakes. it is the most ordinary of days. and yet today, is the feast of the fool.
the Fool is the first card in the tarot, the card of fresh beginnings, eternal chances, and endless possiblities. it is a card that resonates in my soul. but in medieval times, the Fool was the voice of the Observer, who never missed a trick, and could be relied on to speak whatever it was that no one else could - or would - say. today the Fool reminds me, like emily in Our Town - to Pay Attention.
thank you to everyone who sent me cards and comments and good wishes. you enhanced my birthday more than i can tell you :).
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
i had a wonderful birthday. Beloved gave me, in addition to the black-sheep sweater and the books (the celtic way of seeing by frank maceowen; the celtic wheel of the year, by tess ward, sacred paths for modern men by dagonet dewr; and fairy houses everywhere! by barry and tracy kane) - a gift certificate for walking shoes; a new dog-walking coat, a tie-dye skirt, and a bottle of champagne. libby was sweet and pleasant and an absolute delight, and all the other children called. we had plans to go out for dinner, but because it was monday all the places i wanted to go to were closed. so i made a pork loin, and baked maple squash, and a broccoli carrot stir-fry. Beloved brought home strawberry cheesecake. my father sent an enormous bouquet, i parleyed my mother's $100 into a massage and lunch at my favorite tea-room. we curled up on the couch after dinner and watched a really bad movie until Beloved fell asleep. then i turned on sixth sense - its one of those movies that makes me feel almost normal.
today - the anniversary of the first day i ever saw - i plan to spend just being. baby jake is napping, full of cereal and pears. the second load of laundry is spinning, my evening's new-moon-in-aries meditation is planned. stew is simmering in the crockpot - im going to go mix up a meat loaf and freeze it before i do the morning's dishes. i have a bunch of bananas and a hydrangea to take to my grandmother when baby jake wakes. it is the most ordinary of days. and yet today, is the feast of the fool.
the Fool is the first card in the tarot, the card of fresh beginnings, eternal chances, and endless possiblities. it is a card that resonates in my soul. but in medieval times, the Fool was the voice of the Observer, who never missed a trick, and could be relied on to speak whatever it was that no one else could - or would - say. today the Fool reminds me, like emily in Our Town - to Pay Attention.
thank you to everyone who sent me cards and comments and good wishes. you enhanced my birthday more than i can tell you :).
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
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