and so we come to the end. another year, another harvest, another season of germinating, flowering, fruiting and fading is come round to the opposite side of the Wheel. today i count the gains, measure the costs, and honor the absence of all that i've lost. today, i look back. today, as the veil thins even more, i mourn the absence my beloved dead and invite them to pay me a visit. today, i pray for both release and discernment. today i stand mid-way between the worlds.
this morning i will prepare my offering plates, tidy my house so the ancestors aren't horrified, and visit the Crone in the guise of my grandmother. my friend laura said to me, after meeting my grandmother... i know you won't be offended, but your grandmother looks just like a witch!
and she does.
this morning as i was making my coffee - Beloved is sick, poor Beloved - mama pele came into my mind. she is the one i called on to help jumpstart katie's labor when it stalled out a bit - (when the contractions finally started heating up, katie started moaning, im so hot... why am i hot... i don't understand why im so hot....i just smiled and thanked mama pele.)
pele tests people who would seek her favor by appearing as an ancient crone. so in the name of mama pele and the Great Hag, i begin my halloween with an offering of bananas, spice cake and socks.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
happy birthday, katie liz
twenty-seven years ago this morning, my first baby pushed her way into the world. she was tiny - 5 lbs, 10 ozs, 19.5 inches long. she had a head of silky dark hair - just like baby jake - and when the midwife put her on my belly, wet and slimy, the cord still pulsing blue, i remember how she curled and mewed like a kitten. her apgar score at one minute was 7, at two minutes, 9.5. it was a glowing, golden october morning. i remember thinking how amazing it was that one minute there were three people in the room, and the next there were four.
now my baby stands beside me on the same side of the Great Divide. already she knows that milky mazey besottedness, that fierce and adoring love of Creator for the Created. i remember gazing at her as she nestled against my breast, scrawny as a plucked chicken, all sharp limbs and great big eyes. i see the look on her own face, as she cradles baby jake.
when he was three days old, she said to me, he's so cute i dont' want to put him down... i just want to keep holding him... is that bad? ... of course it isn't bad, i said, until you decide you need to do something else and he doesn't understand what it is or why.
that's what i said to her.
but another part of me, the silent part said... it doesn't matter whether you hold him or not, honey... there's a part of you that's never going to let go.
happy birthday, katie liz... from the mommy who loves you the way you love baby jake.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
now my baby stands beside me on the same side of the Great Divide. already she knows that milky mazey besottedness, that fierce and adoring love of Creator for the Created. i remember gazing at her as she nestled against my breast, scrawny as a plucked chicken, all sharp limbs and great big eyes. i see the look on her own face, as she cradles baby jake.
when he was three days old, she said to me, he's so cute i dont' want to put him down... i just want to keep holding him... is that bad? ... of course it isn't bad, i said, until you decide you need to do something else and he doesn't understand what it is or why.
that's what i said to her.
but another part of me, the silent part said... it doesn't matter whether you hold him or not, honey... there's a part of you that's never going to let go.
happy birthday, katie liz... from the mommy who loves you the way you love baby jake.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
Monday, October 29, 2007
samhain season
the first thing i noticed when i stepped outside this morning was how cold and crisp the air, and the stars scattered like fairy dust across a sky as black as pitch. the grass crunched under the puppies' feet and sparkled back at the stars. the mum fields next door were white under a blanket of frost, and the moon hung high, looking hard and cold as a white chip of bone. i shivered and wished i'd zipped my jacket. it was samhain weather, season of witch, and hag and crow.
and right on time. for the ancient celts, time was divided into 14 week blocks of 5 day weeks. the extra days in the year were set aside for holy day observances, festivals and rituals. each holy day was celebrated over three to five days. thus the period of samhain encompassed the days both before and after our calendar date. the ancient celts, like other ancient peoples, believed the day began at dusk. it is a concept quite contrary to our modern left-brain way of thinking.
we think the day begins at dawn, with the light, when the sun comes up, but our fore-mothers understood a truth we live with every day and have forgotten how to comprehend.
we begin in darkness. from the darkness of the womb, to the darkness of the earth, to the darkness of the sea... all life comes out of the dark... out of the dust...and the dirt and the water, thus ultimately, out of death.
samhain is the time we acknowledge, recognize and celebrate the Necessity of Death in the dance of Life.
today i begin my season of samhain, and prepare to sink into the silence from which all things spring. this year my celebration has five parts - acknowledging my ancestors, physical clearing, opening the veil, releasing the old and sowing the new. what i wish to release this year is particularly meaningful to me.
what i wish to release this year i'm not sure i can.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
and right on time. for the ancient celts, time was divided into 14 week blocks of 5 day weeks. the extra days in the year were set aside for holy day observances, festivals and rituals. each holy day was celebrated over three to five days. thus the period of samhain encompassed the days both before and after our calendar date. the ancient celts, like other ancient peoples, believed the day began at dusk. it is a concept quite contrary to our modern left-brain way of thinking.
we think the day begins at dawn, with the light, when the sun comes up, but our fore-mothers understood a truth we live with every day and have forgotten how to comprehend.
we begin in darkness. from the darkness of the womb, to the darkness of the earth, to the darkness of the sea... all life comes out of the dark... out of the dust...and the dirt and the water, thus ultimately, out of death.
samhain is the time we acknowledge, recognize and celebrate the Necessity of Death in the dance of Life.
today i begin my season of samhain, and prepare to sink into the silence from which all things spring. this year my celebration has five parts - acknowledging my ancestors, physical clearing, opening the veil, releasing the old and sowing the new. what i wish to release this year is particularly meaningful to me.
what i wish to release this year i'm not sure i can.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
such a nice sunday
it was a busy day... busy in the way sunny autumn weekends sometimes are. i finished the dresser and hauled the drawers inside. i put the furniture refinishing stuff away - i doubt i'll have a chance to do another piece this year. the weather has been so uncooperative.
i got my paperwork done...started the Seasonal Sorting of the Wardrobe. (this always puzzles Beloved. he should've seen the grand Overturning the house was given when i was a kid. my mother practically ripped down the wallpaper every six months.) i made apple crisp... two of them, actually, and brought one to my gramma.
i took the girls shopping for sweatshirts, socks and underwear and bought myself a new teakettle, as well as a couple items for katie's birthday on tuesday. i ordered the week's groceries on peapod... the laundry is all caught up, thanks to meg. the entry is cleaned, thanks to libby. dinner was apple-roasted ham, maple-baked squash, butter biscuits and string beans, with apple crisp for dessert.
Beloved built three quarters of his jetty.
it's time to curl up on the couch with a pot of oat straw tea.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
i got my paperwork done...started the Seasonal Sorting of the Wardrobe. (this always puzzles Beloved. he should've seen the grand Overturning the house was given when i was a kid. my mother practically ripped down the wallpaper every six months.) i made apple crisp... two of them, actually, and brought one to my gramma.
i took the girls shopping for sweatshirts, socks and underwear and bought myself a new teakettle, as well as a couple items for katie's birthday on tuesday. i ordered the week's groceries on peapod... the laundry is all caught up, thanks to meg. the entry is cleaned, thanks to libby. dinner was apple-roasted ham, maple-baked squash, butter biscuits and string beans, with apple crisp for dessert.
Beloved built three quarters of his jetty.
it's time to curl up on the couch with a pot of oat straw tea.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
october winds
"the october winds lament around the castle of dromore,
yet peace is in her lofty halls, my loving treasure store,
though autumn leaves may droop and die, a bud of spring are you,
sing hush a bye loo la lool, low la, sing hush a bye loo la loo..."
i woke up late...relatively speaking. the sky was still dark but the clock said 6:00. the first thing i heard was the sound of the wind in the pines, and the words of the irish lullabye, october winds, ran through my head. winter is coming, i thought.. soon, soon...
my task today will be to stay focused on all the odds and ends of things i need and other people want me to do. libby wants to go shopping, my gramma wants a visit. dust-bunnies lurk in the corners of the closet in the bedroom where i need to get serious about switching the clothes around, apples for apple crisp are begging on the washboard. i'd like to give all the gardens one more weeding and i might as well take advantage fo the weather and plant some bulbs. im hoping brad will come over and get the furniture for baby jake.
i used to sing that lullabye to all my babies. someday soon.. i'll sing it to him...
"take time to thrive, my ray of hope, in the gardens of dromore,
take heed, young eaglet, til thy wings are feathered fit to soar,
a little rest, for then this world is full of work to do,
sing hushabye loo la loo low la... sing hushabye loo la loo."
and furthermore, the war must end.
yet peace is in her lofty halls, my loving treasure store,
though autumn leaves may droop and die, a bud of spring are you,
sing hush a bye loo la lool, low la, sing hush a bye loo la loo..."
i woke up late...relatively speaking. the sky was still dark but the clock said 6:00. the first thing i heard was the sound of the wind in the pines, and the words of the irish lullabye, october winds, ran through my head. winter is coming, i thought.. soon, soon...
my task today will be to stay focused on all the odds and ends of things i need and other people want me to do. libby wants to go shopping, my gramma wants a visit. dust-bunnies lurk in the corners of the closet in the bedroom where i need to get serious about switching the clothes around, apples for apple crisp are begging on the washboard. i'd like to give all the gardens one more weeding and i might as well take advantage fo the weather and plant some bulbs. im hoping brad will come over and get the furniture for baby jake.
i used to sing that lullabye to all my babies. someday soon.. i'll sing it to him...
"take time to thrive, my ray of hope, in the gardens of dromore,
take heed, young eaglet, til thy wings are feathered fit to soar,
a little rest, for then this world is full of work to do,
sing hushabye loo la loo low la... sing hushabye loo la loo."
and furthermore, the war must end.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
the rain is raining all around...
...it falls on field and tree... it falls on the umberellas here... and on the ships at sea.
so wrote robert louis stevenson. his poetry infused my childhood, no doubt still subliminially colors the way i shape and form my own writing.
i lay awake in the deep gray dawn, listening to the delicious sound of the rain running off the roof, dripping through the trees, scented with pine and the sweet mustiness of wet leaves. already when i woke, the ponds were filling up. gomez - i mean Beloved - may have to forgo his jetty til next spring.
today on aol i read about all the parts of our country where water is becoming scarce. since baby jake was born two weeks ago, i feel i have a deeper stake in the far future than i ever used to have. this child's children could live to see a time and place that i will never see... the 22nd century. i want them to have water there.
the native americans had it right, i have come to realize. we can not own the land, the water, the air. you might as well try and leash the sun. (the sad thing is, i can see someone doing that in the not too distant future - leasing proprietary rights to a certain slice of sunshine during such and so hours of the day. maybe i better erase that last thought. no sense in giving the lawyers any more ideas. :x.)
i'd rather have a sunny day. i have some running around to do today... id rather do my errands when the roads are dry. but instead, i will be grateful for the water. i will give thanks for the rain. and i will ask the Mother in Her Infinite Love to please please please send more where it's needed most.
and furthermore, the war must end.
so wrote robert louis stevenson. his poetry infused my childhood, no doubt still subliminially colors the way i shape and form my own writing.
i lay awake in the deep gray dawn, listening to the delicious sound of the rain running off the roof, dripping through the trees, scented with pine and the sweet mustiness of wet leaves. already when i woke, the ponds were filling up. gomez - i mean Beloved - may have to forgo his jetty til next spring.
today on aol i read about all the parts of our country where water is becoming scarce. since baby jake was born two weeks ago, i feel i have a deeper stake in the far future than i ever used to have. this child's children could live to see a time and place that i will never see... the 22nd century. i want them to have water there.
the native americans had it right, i have come to realize. we can not own the land, the water, the air. you might as well try and leash the sun. (the sad thing is, i can see someone doing that in the not too distant future - leasing proprietary rights to a certain slice of sunshine during such and so hours of the day. maybe i better erase that last thought. no sense in giving the lawyers any more ideas. :x.)
i'd rather have a sunny day. i have some running around to do today... id rather do my errands when the roads are dry. but instead, i will be grateful for the water. i will give thanks for the rain. and i will ask the Mother in Her Infinite Love to please please please send more where it's needed most.
and furthermore, the war must end.
Friday, October 26, 2007
while my Beloved sleeps
the skies aren't clear any more... the day that started off so bright and crisp and clear has turned cold and wet and gray. it was an upside down sort of day...all my plans to do one kind of thing turned into necessities to do another kind of thing altogether.
and yet... it was a day i did a lot of writing... a lot of snuggling... a lot of readings. i did get the final coat on all but two of the dresser drawers - oh, yeah, i'm still slogging out the weather. damp and humid don't mix well with furniture finishes. i also sorted a mountain of paperwork into a molehill of tasks.
i walked the puppies as the sky was getting dark. there was a raw, dampness in the air that i always think is best described by the scots word "braw." the pine needles drifted around our feet. i was glad i thought to wear a coat.
it's finally october. and furthermore, the war must end.
and yet... it was a day i did a lot of writing... a lot of snuggling... a lot of readings. i did get the final coat on all but two of the dresser drawers - oh, yeah, i'm still slogging out the weather. damp and humid don't mix well with furniture finishes. i also sorted a mountain of paperwork into a molehill of tasks.
i walked the puppies as the sky was getting dark. there was a raw, dampness in the air that i always think is best described by the scots word "braw." the pine needles drifted around our feet. i was glad i thought to wear a coat.
it's finally october. and furthermore, the war must end.
clear skies
this morning, when i walked the puppies, the stars were back. orion was stretched across the sky above the trees, the full moon shone through the not-yet-bare branches. if the trees had been in full leaf, i wouldn't have seen her. on our second time out, the palest blue of dawn was streaking the eastern sky, orion still visible but fading, the moon gleamed like a klieg light behind the trees.
it is my routine, every morning, to walk the dogs while Beloved makes their breakfasts and my coffee. he thinks it's a terrible chore i have... outside at the earliest of hours, rain or shine, cold or hot.
he doesn't know how much i savor that first full blast of day. the world is sometimes silent, sometimes noisy, the sky is sometimes cloudy, sometimes clear. it is the moment when i pause and step into the world. i bless my puppies, actually, who drag me out of bed each morning. Beloved thinks i'm crazy.
i think i'm really, really lucky.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
it is my routine, every morning, to walk the dogs while Beloved makes their breakfasts and my coffee. he thinks it's a terrible chore i have... outside at the earliest of hours, rain or shine, cold or hot.
he doesn't know how much i savor that first full blast of day. the world is sometimes silent, sometimes noisy, the sky is sometimes cloudy, sometimes clear. it is the moment when i pause and step into the world. i bless my puppies, actually, who drag me out of bed each morning. Beloved thinks i'm crazy.
i think i'm really, really lucky.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
back & forth & side & side
today is a day i'm going to spend mostly out of the house... tomorrow, i anticipate a long day spent mostly IN the house. yesterday i went to see my grandmother. today i go to see my grandson. yesterday i marshalled my cleaning team (meg and libby) delegated laundry and floors, and accomplished (nearly) everything on my chore list. today i marshall my team to accomplish as much as humanly possibly on katie's chore list.
this is the dance i do across the generations, weaving this web of mostly women. i see it like a blanket of marvelous colors stretching across time and through space, each individual a gleaming, glowing strand, unique in shade and texture, integral to the whole. i feel it flowing through my hands like a rainbow river of crystal light, hear it singing in my blood.
and furthermore, the war must end.
blessed be.
this is the dance i do across the generations, weaving this web of mostly women. i see it like a blanket of marvelous colors stretching across time and through space, each individual a gleaming, glowing strand, unique in shade and texture, integral to the whole. i feel it flowing through my hands like a rainbow river of crystal light, hear it singing in my blood.
and furthermore, the war must end.
blessed be.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
where have all the flowers gone?
this morning when i opened my email, there was a note from a friend of my daughter's, a girl she's known since college. naomi was one of katie's bridesmaids, katie was one of hers. naomi is the reason katie had a shower... if naomi hadn't prompted me to begin planning it two months in advance... i'd have never have pulled it off.
one of naomi's cousins, a young man just my son's age, was killed on sunday by a drunk driver. the boy wasn't drunk... the older person driving the other car was.
naomi included a picture of her cousin dancing at her wedding. i stared at his beautiful face, and all i saw were the faces of my sons. i thought how devastated i would be if anything happened to them. and then i thought how beautiful young men like this are dying every day in iraq. and we have no plans to bring them home.
in ancient rome, i think it was the senator cato who ended every speech - no matter the topic - with the sentence.... "and furthermore, carthage must be destroyed."
from now on, im ending my blog in a similiar way. it is horrible enough that accidents happen, that young lives end in a blink and a bang. it's unconscionable that we should send our sons and our daughters willfully to die. at least the ancient spartans waited til a man had a son before sending him off on a suicide mission. we dont even wait til a kid is legally allowed to drink.
i grieve today for naomi and her family. but i also grieve for all the bright young men and women whose lives have been cut short in the name of an unjust war. my deepest condolences to naomi.
and furthermore... the war must end.
one of naomi's cousins, a young man just my son's age, was killed on sunday by a drunk driver. the boy wasn't drunk... the older person driving the other car was.
naomi included a picture of her cousin dancing at her wedding. i stared at his beautiful face, and all i saw were the faces of my sons. i thought how devastated i would be if anything happened to them. and then i thought how beautiful young men like this are dying every day in iraq. and we have no plans to bring them home.
in ancient rome, i think it was the senator cato who ended every speech - no matter the topic - with the sentence.... "and furthermore, carthage must be destroyed."
from now on, im ending my blog in a similiar way. it is horrible enough that accidents happen, that young lives end in a blink and a bang. it's unconscionable that we should send our sons and our daughters willfully to die. at least the ancient spartans waited til a man had a son before sending him off on a suicide mission. we dont even wait til a kid is legally allowed to drink.
i grieve today for naomi and her family. but i also grieve for all the bright young men and women whose lives have been cut short in the name of an unjust war. my deepest condolences to naomi.
and furthermore... the war must end.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
living with the addams' part two
the rocks were just delivered. gomez... i mean Beloved... was beside himself with glee. he had me out and moving cars around before the sun came up. a very large mack truck brought the rocks. it was quite a procedure apparently, to get the truck down the driveway but i wasn't around to see the actual delivery because i had to drive libby to school.
when i got home, there was gomez ... i mean Beloved... outfitted as predicted standing beside his rockpile, practically dancing for joy. i snapped and hummed a few bars, moved the yellow bug, and went inside.
so how'd it go? i asked. how come the rocks aren't closer to the pond?
well, said Beloved, the driver wasn't happy. he kept cursing. he said mean things. i don't think he liked me. i don't think he was a yankee fan. maybe his life among the rocks has hardened him.
i bet lurch and thing would be puzzled, too.
when i got home, there was gomez ... i mean Beloved... outfitted as predicted standing beside his rockpile, practically dancing for joy. i snapped and hummed a few bars, moved the yellow bug, and went inside.
so how'd it go? i asked. how come the rocks aren't closer to the pond?
well, said Beloved, the driver wasn't happy. he kept cursing. he said mean things. i don't think he liked me. i don't think he was a yankee fan. maybe his life among the rocks has hardened him.
i bet lurch and thing would be puzzled, too.
ordinary time
in the religious tradition in which i was raised, the sundays between the end of lent and the beginning of advent are for the most part delineated as those of "ordinary time."
i remember when i was child, leafing listlessly through the misselette while the priest droned on, how taken i was by the idea that there could be two kinds of time. if there was ordinary time, then by definition, there had to be extrordinary time... and it didn't have anything to do with a calendar. i was sure about that.
today is tuesday. it's far too humid and warm for october, but at least there's the hope of rain. i heard the peepers last night... they sounded cautious, disbelieving. i have a list of errands - go see gramma... appointment with nora for help writing my ritual...pick up my calendar at the purple rose where i left it since saturday. i need more hemp milk and more rainbow foods - apples, especially. the laundry's behind... the cupboard's a bit bare. i have paperwork to sort, checks to write, a couple bills i've forgotten to pay. meg wants help hanging pictures in her room, i'd like to get over to joanne fabrics and target in torrington. at some point i'll blink and children and puppies will want dinner.
it is an ordinary day in ordinary time.
blessed be.
i remember when i was child, leafing listlessly through the misselette while the priest droned on, how taken i was by the idea that there could be two kinds of time. if there was ordinary time, then by definition, there had to be extrordinary time... and it didn't have anything to do with a calendar. i was sure about that.
today is tuesday. it's far too humid and warm for october, but at least there's the hope of rain. i heard the peepers last night... they sounded cautious, disbelieving. i have a list of errands - go see gramma... appointment with nora for help writing my ritual...pick up my calendar at the purple rose where i left it since saturday. i need more hemp milk and more rainbow foods - apples, especially. the laundry's behind... the cupboard's a bit bare. i have paperwork to sort, checks to write, a couple bills i've forgotten to pay. meg wants help hanging pictures in her room, i'd like to get over to joanne fabrics and target in torrington. at some point i'll blink and children and puppies will want dinner.
it is an ordinary day in ordinary time.
blessed be.
Monday, October 22, 2007
life among the addams'
gomez... i mean Beloved... has decided to build a jetty. the reason he decided to build a jetty that extends into the lower pond is because it dried up this year. in to one side, near the center, are a couple of very large rocks, so large a little pine and a couple of straggly birches are struggling for purchase on them.
when i asked gomez... i mean Beloved... exactly he why he felt we needed a jetty, let alone why he felt the need to build one, he said it was because he'd seen mister duck sitting out there on the rocks every spring and if mister duck could sit on the rock, so could he.
so all this effort so you can conquer a duck's territory? (i'm starting to understand the mentality that thinks the iraq war is a good idea.)
well, yes...err... no, said Beloved. it's my rock... i want to stand on it.
to that end Beloved left his office early and ordered 21 cubic feet of rocks. they're all going to be delivered tomorrow. the thought of Beloved, in jeans, yankee hat and flannel shirt, watching the dump truck back up to edge of the pond, just sends me into fits of giggles, not to mention giving me the urge to snap my fingers while whistling and tapping my feet in time to the addams' family theme song. i suppose i should expect uncle fester, mamma, cousin it and the rest of the extended tribe to be showing up shortly!
when i asked gomez... i mean Beloved... exactly he why he felt we needed a jetty, let alone why he felt the need to build one, he said it was because he'd seen mister duck sitting out there on the rocks every spring and if mister duck could sit on the rock, so could he.
so all this effort so you can conquer a duck's territory? (i'm starting to understand the mentality that thinks the iraq war is a good idea.)
well, yes...err... no, said Beloved. it's my rock... i want to stand on it.
to that end Beloved left his office early and ordered 21 cubic feet of rocks. they're all going to be delivered tomorrow. the thought of Beloved, in jeans, yankee hat and flannel shirt, watching the dump truck back up to edge of the pond, just sends me into fits of giggles, not to mention giving me the urge to snap my fingers while whistling and tapping my feet in time to the addams' family theme song. i suppose i should expect uncle fester, mamma, cousin it and the rest of the extended tribe to be showing up shortly!
three rules of good writing
today i am guest-teaching a writing class for my friend who has to be in court. it's been a while since i had to teach a class of college freshmen/sophmores, so i'm looking forward to it. plus, the college is right around the corner from baby jake! what a great reason to stop in for a cuddle!!!
(note to self- wear something poop-proof.)
it's also a good reason to think about what i think good writing is. there's a lot of awful writing out there, much of it in print. people seem intimidated by their language. it's a shame really, even though i appreciate emoticons as much as anyone. i like shortcuts and pictures really DO say a thousand words. wouldn't it be funny if a thousand years from now, everyone all communicates in grunts, gestures, pictographs and LOL's and they shake their heads over the poor primitives who had to use WORDS and SENTENCES to talk? our descendents will pity us for the books we had to drag around. i can see mine now, shrinkwrapped and shellaqued against the ravages of time, made into my great-great-great-great + 10 grandchildren's headboards.
somerset maugham, the english novelist, said that there's only three rules of good writing. the trouble is that no one can agree on what they are. here's my updated list.
1. don't be afraid to write garbage. what comes out of my head is frequently as smelly as what comes out of my butt. that's why i rewrite as much as i do.
2. pay attention. god really IS in the details. a writer is first an observer. actions speak louder than words. what a person does is a lot more telling than what he says. your five senses are the way to connect with your reader. so pay attention to everything.
3. have a reason or a goal. every journey should have a destination, or at least a reason for it. if you don't know where you're going with a piece, at least have a reason for writing it in the first place. (yes, i need to pass this course is a perfectly acceptable reason, as is, if i don't tell this story, the characters will eat their way out of my head.) all reasons are acceptable. just know yours.
so there... in a nutshell... is what i will take roughly forty minutes to say. any questions? :)
(note to self- wear something poop-proof.)
it's also a good reason to think about what i think good writing is. there's a lot of awful writing out there, much of it in print. people seem intimidated by their language. it's a shame really, even though i appreciate emoticons as much as anyone. i like shortcuts and pictures really DO say a thousand words. wouldn't it be funny if a thousand years from now, everyone all communicates in grunts, gestures, pictographs and LOL's and they shake their heads over the poor primitives who had to use WORDS and SENTENCES to talk? our descendents will pity us for the books we had to drag around. i can see mine now, shrinkwrapped and shellaqued against the ravages of time, made into my great-great-great-great + 10 grandchildren's headboards.
somerset maugham, the english novelist, said that there's only three rules of good writing. the trouble is that no one can agree on what they are. here's my updated list.
1. don't be afraid to write garbage. what comes out of my head is frequently as smelly as what comes out of my butt. that's why i rewrite as much as i do.
2. pay attention. god really IS in the details. a writer is first an observer. actions speak louder than words. what a person does is a lot more telling than what he says. your five senses are the way to connect with your reader. so pay attention to everything.
3. have a reason or a goal. every journey should have a destination, or at least a reason for it. if you don't know where you're going with a piece, at least have a reason for writing it in the first place. (yes, i need to pass this course is a perfectly acceptable reason, as is, if i don't tell this story, the characters will eat their way out of my head.) all reasons are acceptable. just know yours.
so there... in a nutshell... is what i will take roughly forty minutes to say. any questions? :)
Sunday, October 21, 2007
strength to your sword arm, sister
tomorrow a friend of mine goes to do battle in the halls of blindfolded justice. she goes not so much on behalf of herself, but on behalf of her children.... and we know just how much children are valued by our larger culture... our own president just declared victory against them. this is one reason why a blindfolded person with a sword is an accurate depiction of our legal system. by the time the judge gets finished, i'm pretty sure she'll have decided it'd be quicker and easier and far less painful to blindfold him and let him take a swing at her with a broadsword.
she said to me, today.... it'd be easier if i'd stayed. at least i know my kids would be clothed and fed and cared for.
but it wouldn't be authentic. i've known a lot of people who stay married for "the sake of the kids." i always feel sorry for their kids. because kids know when relationships aren't real. and for people in abusive relationships... if you stay and be abused... you're teaching your kids it's okay to be abusive, and it's okay to be abused. and it's not.
i know because i was. my ex husband is a sick, sad, sorry man who blamed me for everything he thought was wrong in his life. he's still blaming me, in fact. now it amuses me to think how much power he thinks i have. (i do, of course, but i sure don't intend to waste it messing up his life.) i found the courage to leave after i'd sold two novels and he suggested i quit writing. you wouldn't be the first woman, he said, to put her career on hold for her family.
i filed for divorce shortly afterwards. it was a brutal, bitter, bloody battle, waged across three states, eleven years, and utterly unfair... because he IS a lawyer. and i'm not.
the fighting's mostly done, however... libby is finally old enough to decide for herself when to see him. he's remarried to a lady of the cloth who thinks it's her job to save him. (bless you, too, sister, for i don't think the blessed virgin herself could please him. i'm here if you need a place to run.)
i remember how in the beginning, he puffed himself up like a guinea hen and said... gird your loins... you're going to find out what it's like to litigate against me!
i remember i looked at him, this silly, vain, proud little man who'd never have gone to law school at all if i'd not encouraged him (be careful what you wish for is a lesson i had to learn in spades), and i said...
you can win every battle, but you've already lost the war. you lost me.
so just remember that, sister... when you stand before that judge tomorrow, in the halls of blinded justice in the courts of men where the needs of children are weighed like human chattel. they can win every battle, but they've already lost the war.
strength to your sword arm, dear susan. sleep sweet. ;)
she said to me, today.... it'd be easier if i'd stayed. at least i know my kids would be clothed and fed and cared for.
but it wouldn't be authentic. i've known a lot of people who stay married for "the sake of the kids." i always feel sorry for their kids. because kids know when relationships aren't real. and for people in abusive relationships... if you stay and be abused... you're teaching your kids it's okay to be abusive, and it's okay to be abused. and it's not.
i know because i was. my ex husband is a sick, sad, sorry man who blamed me for everything he thought was wrong in his life. he's still blaming me, in fact. now it amuses me to think how much power he thinks i have. (i do, of course, but i sure don't intend to waste it messing up his life.) i found the courage to leave after i'd sold two novels and he suggested i quit writing. you wouldn't be the first woman, he said, to put her career on hold for her family.
i filed for divorce shortly afterwards. it was a brutal, bitter, bloody battle, waged across three states, eleven years, and utterly unfair... because he IS a lawyer. and i'm not.
the fighting's mostly done, however... libby is finally old enough to decide for herself when to see him. he's remarried to a lady of the cloth who thinks it's her job to save him. (bless you, too, sister, for i don't think the blessed virgin herself could please him. i'm here if you need a place to run.)
i remember how in the beginning, he puffed himself up like a guinea hen and said... gird your loins... you're going to find out what it's like to litigate against me!
i remember i looked at him, this silly, vain, proud little man who'd never have gone to law school at all if i'd not encouraged him (be careful what you wish for is a lesson i had to learn in spades), and i said...
you can win every battle, but you've already lost the war. you lost me.
so just remember that, sister... when you stand before that judge tomorrow, in the halls of blinded justice in the courts of men where the needs of children are weighed like human chattel. they can win every battle, but they've already lost the war.
strength to your sword arm, dear susan. sleep sweet. ;)
date night
yesterday evening, Beloved and i went out for dinner as is our habit once a week. we have three or four restaurants we tend to visit in turn, and last night we went to a place where the tv in the bar is always tuned to cnn.
as i was slathering the butter on my bread, i saw the headline announcing the president's "victory" over his opposing party. the issue is children's health insurance. (somehow we have learned to equate the idea of health CARE with health insurance, but that's another rant.) the "victory" means that children aren't going to have access to health care.
because that's the bottom line, that's what it MEANS in terms of human cost. and we, i've heard people claim, have the best - healthcarelegalsystemeconomy - in the world.
we should be ashamed.
we should be ashamed that money is being spent on war while children go hungry, while old people go without medicine. the pope who protected pedophiles is on the fast-track to sainthood. we have a president who both looks and sounds exactly like a puppet. we should be ashamed of the world we live in. but if we are, not yet enough to change it.
i sat in that place where the food and the wine and the laughter flowed like perfumed oil and something twisted deep inside me. the last pope made me ashamed to have been raised catholic. this president makes me ashamed to call myself american. thank goddess i'm a woman, i thought.
i couldn't eat anything else. i wanted to stand on the bar and scream - does this not offend your soul?
but i too, keep silent.
as i was slathering the butter on my bread, i saw the headline announcing the president's "victory" over his opposing party. the issue is children's health insurance. (somehow we have learned to equate the idea of health CARE with health insurance, but that's another rant.) the "victory" means that children aren't going to have access to health care.
because that's the bottom line, that's what it MEANS in terms of human cost. and we, i've heard people claim, have the best - healthcarelegalsystemeconomy - in the world.
we should be ashamed.
we should be ashamed that money is being spent on war while children go hungry, while old people go without medicine. the pope who protected pedophiles is on the fast-track to sainthood. we have a president who both looks and sounds exactly like a puppet. we should be ashamed of the world we live in. but if we are, not yet enough to change it.
i sat in that place where the food and the wine and the laughter flowed like perfumed oil and something twisted deep inside me. the last pope made me ashamed to have been raised catholic. this president makes me ashamed to call myself american. thank goddess i'm a woman, i thought.
i couldn't eat anything else. i wanted to stand on the bar and scream - does this not offend your soul?
but i too, keep silent.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
living retrograde
yesterday, the facilitator of the womens' council i attend every month announced she was taking a sabbatical. the other women got sad. i got excited. as my mother says, i hear a different drum.
it's not my conscious wish to live and think and feel outside the mainstream. if i had a nickel for every time someone ever said to me... wow, i never thought of it like that...i'd sure have an awful lot of nickels.
i noticed a long time ago that periods of mercury retrograde can be fantastically productive times for me. while the rest of the world twitters and spins, i forge forward... sure and steady in my purpose. then i learned that not only was i born under mercury retrograde, but of the fifteen heavenly bodies used to cast a horoscope, eight others in my chart are retrograde as well. unfortunately for me, mercury doesn't go retrograde more than four or five times a year. this means that while everyone else is forging forward, *I* am twittering and spinning. however, i also do real well with new moons...under which most people slow down.
it's taken me a long time to feel comfortable in this skin. it's taken me a long time to recognize that in order for me to do the work i do, i need to stand on the edge of things. a writer is first an observer. the best place to view the Big Picture is out here where the footing can be shaky.
today i go to do only slightly different work... it's my turn to read cards at Enchanted Saturday. i'm not sure if i'll get to do any readings... Laura and I have some Big News to share.
it's not my conscious wish to live and think and feel outside the mainstream. if i had a nickel for every time someone ever said to me... wow, i never thought of it like that...i'd sure have an awful lot of nickels.
i noticed a long time ago that periods of mercury retrograde can be fantastically productive times for me. while the rest of the world twitters and spins, i forge forward... sure and steady in my purpose. then i learned that not only was i born under mercury retrograde, but of the fifteen heavenly bodies used to cast a horoscope, eight others in my chart are retrograde as well. unfortunately for me, mercury doesn't go retrograde more than four or five times a year. this means that while everyone else is forging forward, *I* am twittering and spinning. however, i also do real well with new moons...under which most people slow down.
it's taken me a long time to feel comfortable in this skin. it's taken me a long time to recognize that in order for me to do the work i do, i need to stand on the edge of things. a writer is first an observer. the best place to view the Big Picture is out here where the footing can be shaky.
today i go to do only slightly different work... it's my turn to read cards at Enchanted Saturday. i'm not sure if i'll get to do any readings... Laura and I have some Big News to share.
Friday, October 19, 2007
happy birthday, baby elena
baby elena is five years old today. she is my sister's daughter, and my only god-daughter. on the day she was baptized, i walked into my sister's bedroom to find my mother holding baby elena who was screaming her little dark-curly head off.
this baby wants to stay a little pagan, my mother said.
well, tell her she's got the right godmother, i replied.
my mother pursed her lips, rolled her eyes, shook her head and sighed to heaven. but she didn't tell me not to whisper a prayer or two of my own as the priest poured water on elena's forehead and sealed her with the chrism of salvation. besides, there was always something in elena's big brown eyes that told me she was indeed one of My Kind.
this year elena told my sister she'd like to go to disney world and see the princesses - just the two of them - no papa, no baby alex, who at two is the bane of elena's world, in much the same way my brother john was of mine at that age.
then she looked at her father, who doesn't have much time for disney. and you, papa, says elena, don't you make any fuss about it.
my mother shared this story with me and as we were laughing i said, maybe i better tell andi and sheila that elena was born on the anniversary of the Big Crash of '87. clearly she's a Force to be Reckoned With.
nah, said my mother. let them find out the way the rest of us do.
how's that, i asked.
by surprise, she cackled softly.
that's mean, i said.
you get better stories that way, she replied.
this baby wants to stay a little pagan, my mother said.
well, tell her she's got the right godmother, i replied.
my mother pursed her lips, rolled her eyes, shook her head and sighed to heaven. but she didn't tell me not to whisper a prayer or two of my own as the priest poured water on elena's forehead and sealed her with the chrism of salvation. besides, there was always something in elena's big brown eyes that told me she was indeed one of My Kind.
this year elena told my sister she'd like to go to disney world and see the princesses - just the two of them - no papa, no baby alex, who at two is the bane of elena's world, in much the same way my brother john was of mine at that age.
then she looked at her father, who doesn't have much time for disney. and you, papa, says elena, don't you make any fuss about it.
my mother shared this story with me and as we were laughing i said, maybe i better tell andi and sheila that elena was born on the anniversary of the Big Crash of '87. clearly she's a Force to be Reckoned With.
nah, said my mother. let them find out the way the rest of us do.
how's that, i asked.
by surprise, she cackled softly.
that's mean, i said.
you get better stories that way, she replied.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
dancing through time
yesterday, i fielded calls from my grandmother, who's upset about her house, my mother, who's upset about her health, and katie, who's upset about everything.
today,i visited my grandmother (she was napping); visited katie (yes, baby jake is even CUTER today than he was on monday); spoke to my mother about everything, my son about his contact lens insurance and generally tended to my girls and my puppies. okay, dinner was pizza, but at least everyone ate.
when my children were younger, it was always a challenge to respond to them appropriately on the turn of a dime. what 14 year old katie needed was not what 1 year old libby needed which was never what 10 year old jamie needed, nor 7 year old meg. it was a skill i developed almost without thinking about it, and one i think that daunts those less flexible. it's one reason i guess a lot of people think it's easier to have kids close together, and i guess maybe it is. you don't have to do the jumping back-and-forth across wildly differing demands.
i'm lucky my kids gave me a lot of practice adjusting to different expectations, different needs and i don't think it was just marvelous coincidence that the four of them and me made FIVE and now, instead of dealing with the competing demands of offspring,im dealing with the competing demands of FIVE generations.
five is the number of catalyzing change. when fives start to show up in your life, it's time to tighten your seat belt and hold on for the ride. it's also no coincidence, i think, that for this short while, at least, i am the generation in the middle.
one of the first principles i learned about magic was that liminal times and places - the middle times and places - are considered those best suited generally for all sorts of rituals and magical workings. another is that for the celts, there were five directions, not four. the first four correspond to our north, east, etc. but the fifth is for the place called HERE, which is where all the other places meet.
it is the place where the magic begins.
it is the center of one's being.
so here i dance, in the center of the five directions, back and forth across five generations. the possiblity of what dreams might come, what stories might surface, what insights and challenges i might face, boggles my mind. and so for tonight, i watch the glowing crescent maiden moon rise in all Her glory. and i breathe.
today,i visited my grandmother (she was napping); visited katie (yes, baby jake is even CUTER today than he was on monday); spoke to my mother about everything, my son about his contact lens insurance and generally tended to my girls and my puppies. okay, dinner was pizza, but at least everyone ate.
when my children were younger, it was always a challenge to respond to them appropriately on the turn of a dime. what 14 year old katie needed was not what 1 year old libby needed which was never what 10 year old jamie needed, nor 7 year old meg. it was a skill i developed almost without thinking about it, and one i think that daunts those less flexible. it's one reason i guess a lot of people think it's easier to have kids close together, and i guess maybe it is. you don't have to do the jumping back-and-forth across wildly differing demands.
i'm lucky my kids gave me a lot of practice adjusting to different expectations, different needs and i don't think it was just marvelous coincidence that the four of them and me made FIVE and now, instead of dealing with the competing demands of offspring,im dealing with the competing demands of FIVE generations.
five is the number of catalyzing change. when fives start to show up in your life, it's time to tighten your seat belt and hold on for the ride. it's also no coincidence, i think, that for this short while, at least, i am the generation in the middle.
one of the first principles i learned about magic was that liminal times and places - the middle times and places - are considered those best suited generally for all sorts of rituals and magical workings. another is that for the celts, there were five directions, not four. the first four correspond to our north, east, etc. but the fifth is for the place called HERE, which is where all the other places meet.
it is the place where the magic begins.
it is the center of one's being.
so here i dance, in the center of the five directions, back and forth across five generations. the possiblity of what dreams might come, what stories might surface, what insights and challenges i might face, boggles my mind. and so for tonight, i watch the glowing crescent maiden moon rise in all Her glory. and i breathe.
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