wicca201

So, hi.  Remember how I told you we were moving to NC, and then we went and moved here?  Right, so, we might be moving again.  Things are just not working out the way we planned.  TH (the husband) has had a rough transition into the new job and it has not been at all what we thought.  We really expected to see each other more, and it was a key factor in deciding to move here.  He really wants to see the witchlet* grow up, and that is not really how it is going with the new job. 

Also, moving here has put our priorities into realignment.  Our TV broke in the move, and it has become less and less important to replace it.  We have a big beautiful house, but no one to visit us here.  We have started to eat a lot more fresh food, more whole grains, less meat, use more organic, local, sustainable resources.  We walk and bike everywhere (I'm in much better shape than when I left MD, that is one good thing that has happened in NC!).  The witchlet and the dog and I are outside in the yard/garden/park for hours each day.  We miss our family terribly, especially the witchlet's grandparents and my young cousins.  We miss our friends, and though I am happy for them, my heart breaks a little each time I hear about their exciting plans being put into action for forming a coven.  TH works for a soul-less, racist company that destroys the earth and celebrates it daily.  

We are ready for a change.  We want to embrace the healthy aspects of our new life - less tv and commercialism, more sustainable, ecologically friendly food, shelter, transportation and jobs.  Our new plan is to move back to MD (or even PA) as soon as we can sell our house here and find a job (or two) back home.  We want to buy a few acres, and build a very tiny, totally green home.  Did I mention that we want to build it ourselves?  With an architect's assistance of course, but we've been doing a lot of research, and we think we can make this work.  TH wants to find an IT job, but with a company that does green networking, or rebuilds ecosystems or something more aligned with our values.  I don't want to find a job in social work right now, but I'll do what I can to make this dream work.  In the meantime, I am starting an Etsy business (link to come in a week or so), where I will sell totally green pagan journals (or blank Book of Shadows) made from handmade recycled paper and hand embroidered covers (from recycled materials), along with other items.  We hope that it will bring in some income, and allow me to stay home with the witchlet as much as possible.  In one of the books we've been reading lately, a woman wrote, "I can honestly say that I prefer having my father around the house to having my father's money.  My dad taught me carpentry, and car repair.  It's more precious than money."  That phrase has stuck with me all week, and I know that my most important job right now is to raise a responsible little person.  I just don't want to do it here.  

So, positive energy, prayers, support would be appreciated.  There is a lot that needs to come together at or around the same time and it will take a lot of coordination that is beyond our control.  I'll keep you posted.           

*Really our daughter can choose any faith she wants and we are only vaguely raising her in a Wiccan tradition, but witchlet works as her name on here!

A pagan list that I am on here in NC is very active and I have posted limited things there.  A self-described "newb" posted recently asking, "How did you get started on your path and how long have you been practicing? What (or who) sparked your interest in it and how did you get started?"  For some reason, I felt called to respond and wrote a long piece.  I'm going to re-post it here. 

I don’t know that I ever shared these answers with this group, even though the question has come around a few times in the short time I’ve been on this list.  And, yes, I’ve been quiet for a while.  There has been a lot going on in our lives, but it has been interesting to lurk on here while the sparks fly.  

Like everyone else, it seems, I started elsewhere.  I was raised in a loving, affirming Catholic community, and was extremely involved in youth ministry and Sunday school and was even a Catholic schoolgirl for a number of years.  Ha!  When I started pulling apart the theology as I studied for my Catechist Certification (late high school), I felt very conflicted.   My main issues were the lack of roles for women in the church and the treatment of gays and lesbians.  I also did not always feel the deep connection to the Divine in Mass the way I did in the great outdoors, or even in the rituals we created in youth group or with friends in the backyard.  I knew I needed something else to get closer to the Divine, but continued with the church. 

In early college, my not-yet boyfriend (now husband) mentioned Paganism in passing, and it sort of rocked my world.  Here was the Divine presented in terms I could get down with, and even though I didn’t know what more was to come, it certainly sounded interesting.  The following spring, I took a course called Search for Meaning (I was a double major – Religious Studies and Social Work) and the professor presented many obscure and/or marginalized religions in an exceptionally respectful manner, including Wicca.  An excerpt of Margot Adler’s Drawing Down the Moon was assigned reading!  I actually missed the lecture on Wicca due to the funeral of a dear friend, but this forced me to stop by the professor’s office to ask more questions, and he gave me his personal copy of Drawing Down the Moon.  As I read the book, I knew I had come home.  (Re-reading it now, I wonder how I got through the dry history parts in the beginning, but the rest of the magick is still there for me.)  As a side note, that professor is still a close friend and confidant, and I actually spoke to one of his Search for Meaning classes a few years back about my path in Wicca.  He is a good man and good for the American alternative spirituality community.

So, once I found a name for what I believed, I still had a lot to figure out.  I spent the next few years doing moon rituals on my own here and there, and reading everything I could get my hands on.  At that time, I read a lot of Scott Cunningham and Starhawk.  I tried Ray Buckland and Silver Ravenwolf, but couldn’t get into them.  Earth Prayers, a collection of earth based prayers or meditations, was also really important to me.  The public face of my religion turned to the Episcopalian Church (long story, but at least we were with one of the gay-friendly churches and a hippy priest) and then a Quaker meeting (another long story, but I tend toward the pacifist side of things, so it fit for a time). 

In the fall of 2002, having graduated from college and married that sort of pagan (now Buddhist), I went online in the middle of some dark October night determined to find someone else to celebrate Samhain with.  I found a group that was practically in my backyard in Pennsylvania (and had been spitting distance from my college) and recruited a brave friend to go with me to the local Unitarian Universalist Church for their open Samhain celebration.  It turned out that the church merely hosted this group, an “Outer Court” group that swelled to around 200 in it’s heyday (it is still going strong with around 50-75 people at most opens).  From there I did a two month Wicca 101, many workshops, formal and informal ritual, and eventually was initiated into a coven that hived from the coven that started all of this.

The group itself had Gardenarian, Alexandrian and Protean lineage, though my coven eventually most identified itself as Protean.  I could not bear to jump into the fray with the recent discussion on this list about the differences between the traditions as I have definitely had painful experiences there.  I must say though that no one had ever told me I could not call myself Wiccan unless I was Gardenarian, just that we weren’t “family”.    

And that is just the beginning of my journey into Wicca.  I’ve lived in two states since then, and waded a strange course through both the Trad in-fighting over degrees/lineage and the lovely souls who respect me just for following a strong ethical path.  I've also faced the difficulties of finding people to connect with when pagans are still quite often a clandestine people.  Not to mention I’m now trying to raise a little witchlet, to whom I want to give all the love, beauty, light, dancing, drumming, yoga, reading, herbs, flowers, mud, rocks, sunshine and rain that the gods can grant us in the short time we have here in the magick of childhood.  Now the authors I tend toward are Dianne Sylvan, Judy Harrow, Ronald Hutton, and every herbal textbook I can lay hands on. 

Oh, and belly dance!  Dance, especially tribal belly dance, has been huge in my spiritual path.  There is nothing that brings me closer to the Goddess than ecstatic dance, and that has been part of my path from the beginning..  Gabrielle Roth, her book, her music, her movement meditation. 

Baby crying, must go.  This is more than long enough . . . probably more than you wanted to know . . .

The past few weeks have been packed with unpacking in our new home!  It has been a tremendous undertaking to unpack a whole house with a toddler and a dog underfoot who are constantly trying to explore new territory as far from me as possible or trying to crawl up my legs to get as close to me as possible.  Usually at the same time and in opposite directions.  I have endured some gentle teasing from people who wondered why I would be planting a garden when I can’t find clean socks or towels (or my dog for that matter), but ultimately this new place is starting to feel like home because my hands have touched the earth first and found missing boxes later.    

There are a few more major projects to complete, but in another week or two, we should be able to settle into a routine.  Once we get to that time, I am looking forward to learning this land.  There are so many unfamiliar trees in our yard, and each seems to have a story to tell.  I have a journal that I am keeping about the herbs I’ve planted.  I also have the start of the sun/shadow pattern in the yard, and I will continue to record when things sprout, bloom and fade as the wheel turns.  I’m looking forward to getting to know the many trees and birds and yes, even bugs that live here with us. 

In addition, I have now met with the priestess and priest of a local coven twice, and things seem quite promising.  They are warm and kind and favor spirit over tradition, which is very much what I am looking for in a coven.  They have asked good questions and given me good answers to my questions.  Some of the things I am seeking are a focus on personal transformation, but a community focus as well.  As an earth-based tradition, I want a group that works to come into union with the seasons and cycles on a personal level and works to protect the Earth.  It seems that this group would fulfill that desire!  I will keep you posted as things evolve.  

 

Well, we have been here one month and the journey is well under way.  In that time we have met about three people who we hope will turn into friends.  We found a house to buy.  We have started to develop a new daily routine that includes a lot more walking and swimming and outdoor time (and I’ve lost eight pounds!).  We have begun the process of finding a spiritual home. 

We attended the Unitarian Universalist church here a couple weeks ago, and despite it’s church-i-ness, the message was right on, and it made me hopeful that we could find some like-minded souls there.  And the fact that it is so close to our new house, just makes it all the sweeter.  Once we are settled, I am hopeful that getting up early on a Sunday morning will feel more appealing. 

Lammas was a draw for me this weekend.  Yesterday, I went to the farmers market here and bought about a million herbs for pennies.  Granted, many of them are leggy and a little sad because they have grown too large for their pots, but I think they will be much happier when placed in my new garden and planters this coming week.  I really did not think that I would be able to find these plants this late in the season, but in the window here, I have many of the plants that were in my old garden.  Rosemary, Basil (Thai and African), Yarrow, Thyme, Chives, Patchouli, Oregano, Sage, Rue, Parsley, plus a few new ones, Echinacea, Dusty Miller, Tarragon, and a whole bunch of succulents for the strawberry pot.  (Last fall I killed all of the succulents because I left them on the porch through the first frost.  I was too busy doing something else; what could that be?  Oh yeah, feeding that baby!)  There’s ferns and purple sweet potato vine, and one plant that I can’t identify and I can’t remember why I bought it. That will be something to research in the coming weeks.

I plan to plant them here with the intention of setting down roots and using the power of the growing season to “grow” our lives in so many ways.  With the longer growing season, they will have much longer to take root before frost comes.  So, my personal celebration of Lammas is different from the harvest I usually take at this time, but I am feeling invigorated and energized and excited about the prospect of learning about the nature of this new land. 

On the flip-side, we tried to attend Lammas today with one of the groups I had found online.  According to their website, they normally meet for Sabbats near one pavilion in the park, but today they were meeting “near an antique locomotive” near the entrance in the park.  The gathering was from 1-5, with ritual at 3PM.  We arrived at the locomotive at 1, in the sprinkling rain.  No one was there or even anywhere in the vicinity. 

We played at the nearby playground for a little while, putting the baby in the swing and watching her laugh.  We decided to walk over to the pavilion that was mentioned for past Sabbats and walked through the park and discovered a gorgeous pond and introduced our daughter to the local ducks.  It was quite funny to hear her say “duck” for the first time in an appropriate context.  We found the pavilion and watched as various people stopped there over the next hour or so, but none of them (except maybe the long haired guitar player) appeared to be remotely pagan.  As it neared 3PM, the rain was beginning to clear and more and more people came to the park.  A Frisbee game started near the pavilion and kids rode around and around on their scooters.  Even if we could find the pagan group, I was becoming more and more uncomfortable with the idea of holding ritual in such a public and populated place.  How can I get to that altered state of consciousness if I’m so aware of being a spectacle? 

We walked back to the front of the park and as we got back into our car, we saw that the group was forming right there at the locomotive, in plain sight of the playground, the parking lot, and anyone entering the park.  There were a handful of people under a tent with an altar and other familiar tools, and I knew then that this was not the celebration for me or my family.  We left the park sort of downtrodden.  I asked TH if I was being too sensitive because I am not accustomed to being “out of the broomcloset”, but he said he certainly would not be able to have a deep spiritual experience in the public eye. 

This group also helps host the Pagan Pride Day in the same park, and I feel like that might be more appropriate.  A festival is different from a ritual.  It is ok if other people watch or come in because spiritual work is not being done.  We will probably check out the festival when the time comes, but in the meantime, a much smaller, more private group (the one that wants to meet 3 times before allowing me to a Sabbat) is starting to have greater appeal.  I am hoping to meet the priestess this Friday and I am awaiting her reply. 

As my former coven sister Iris wrote about this week, there are challenges to practicing alone when you have grown accustomed to working in a group.  I’m not ready to jump into a coven, but I definitely want to start the process of getting to know potential coven mates or move on to the next group.  Wish me luck.  Happy Lammas and harvesting to you all!     

One of the challenges of my new life is how to raise my daughter spiritually.  She is my greatest joy, and every day is a balance in teaching her the things I want her to know, and helping her to become her own individual.  Tall order for a little person who is not quite a year old yet. 

We’ll talk about the challenges of raising a child in an “alternative” religion later on, but right now, I am just concerned with how to get through the day.  Some days at this age, and at this stage in our lives (between homes and without community), seem to blend together, and whole days go by and I wonder if I really have done anything of value.  I want to give my daughter every opportunity for viewing beauty in the world, but how do you really do that? 

At the end of each day I ask, did we read any books today?  Yes.  Did we spend any time outside today?  Dog-walking and pool time help with making this a resounding yes.  Did we listen to any music today?  Usually, but sometimes it is crappy (the radio stations here are not so good).  That is something to work on.  Did we dance today?  Not enough.  Did we giggle today?  We could always do more of that.  Did we eat healthy food today or try a new fruit or vegetable?  I am proud to say I can honestly answer yes to those questions most days, as North Carolina has awesome farmers markets.  How many times did I say something encouraging and how many times did I say no?  That is an important balance I’m getting better at since I realized that one of her first words was ‘no’.  How much magick did I share with her today?  We do need to start a  regular meditation practice together, but how can I incorporate more magickal moments into everyday life?  Did I teach her enough about love from my actions and example?  More, more and always more.

Tonight she did not want to sit in her highchair to eat dinner as the lightening flashed and the thunder rumbled.  I told her that she had no need to be afraid, but she did not stop fussing until I picked her up.  I carried her outside to the porch at our end of the building and pointed at the lightening and said, “See, pretty.  It’s pretty.”  She looked at me like I was crazy.  I said, “Listen, the thunder is like when your auntie plays the drum.”  She did tap my shoulder the same way that she taps the drum, so she must have understood something.  Slowly the rain grew quieter and she became less and less anxious.  We went back inside and she returned to her normal self, even as the storm whipped up again.  She learned to change her fears through understanding and that was magick 101 for an infant.  I think that is enough religion for one day.             

Wow.  I said I would be back someday.  I just didn’t think it would be over a year later.  My, how things have changed.  I’m a mama now. Still a witch, but now a solitary witch.  My old coven is no more.  Even if I wanted to go back to them, I can’t.  I quit my job. I live in North Carolina.  Few transformations could be more complete.  Oh yeah, and then I cut my hair off and got my nose pierced.  And we are buying a house, like this week. 

So why did I come back now?  I’m at an exciting, terrifying, totally unexpected point in my journey.  Never in a million years did I think I would be able to quit my full time job to stay home with my daughter.  Never did I think that I would move to another state again, let alone a state so far from ‘home’.  The world is unfamiliar and new again, and opportunities abound. 

I have spent countless hours online (thank the gods for the internet) looking for Wiccan and Pagan groups in the area.  Some have not panned out, too far, too weird, just plain inactive.  But a few have really peaked my interest.  There’s the women’s full moon circle at the Unitarian Universalist church, which is practically in our (soon-to-be) backyard.  There’s the open group that meets in a local park downtown (in public!) for Sabbats and a few workshops throughout the year.  They are intellectual and interesting online; we’ll see how they are in person and whether anyone shows up to protest.  There’s the coven that is based about 30 minutes outside the city, that wants to meet me three times in a public place (coffee shop) before allowing me to join them for a Sabbat.  This is the South after all, and in some regards, I guess some Wiccans are even more clandestine than what I am used to. 

This journal will get back to what it’s original purpose was, to be a record of my spiritual journey after the initial ecstasy wore off.  I’ll try to write down what happens with each of my encounters as I start over.  And too, it will be a record of what happens next.  I’m taking a break from social work, and I don’t know what will happen next.  There’s that Religious Studies degree that I’ve never done anything with.  Maybe once I start writing again on a regular basis, I’ll feel more confident and can start to explore some professional opportunities.  I’m also really interested in taking some classes with Cherry Hill seminary or with Starhawk’s school, both of which can be done online (during naptime?). 

Of course, there are also the day-to-day tasks of witchery that will be different now.  In the coming months, I’ll be setting up our first real home, planting nearly half an acre, and raising a little witchlet with all the music, dancing, reading, nature walks, and yoga that I wish to give her.  Here’s to writing it all down as we go along.   

So, my friend wrote me recently making a comment about how this blog was dead, and I guess it has been defunct for a little while.  A lot has happened, but most of it has been great.  I started a new blog on our baby-to-be website.  I won't post the link here as it has lots of pictures and family stuff, and well, I just want to keep the two separate for now.  If I know you, you've probably already received the link, but if you haven't, feel free to email me and I'll send you a link. 

In any case, pregnancy has certainly changed the course of my spiritual path.  I made the very difficult, but important decision to leave my coven, Stone Circle, that is based in Pennsylvania.  The drives twice a month were wearing on me, and a middle of the night run in with a herd of deer, a fox, a rabbit, and a cat almost didn't make an impact on me until I also had a run in with a police officer for speeding (that was all in the same drive home).  I'm just too tired to drive that much anymore.  I also think that the maternal nesting instinct is requiring me to set down spiritual roots closer to home.  Some of my closest friends here in Baltimore are forming a coven in the next year, and it just seems to make sense that I make the transition to working here.  I had always intended to finish my third degree with Stone Circle at some point, but I think that if I tried to do that, it might be a decade away or more, as my life will become inundated with baby responsibilities and just as that will let up, soccer practice and violin lessons will start, and perhaps another baby, and life and more life.  In any case, I think driving will become more complicated for a long while. 

In the meantime, I've had to start a new individual spiritual practice which has been challenging and nurturing all at once.  I'm learning patience with myself, and exploring some areas that I had been putting off for a while - creating art in magickal space, silent meditations, journaling as spiritual practice, taking a different, more laid back approach to spiritual gardening.  It has been good. 

I also missed Midsummer in PA due to not having someone to drive with me.  There were some weird medical warning signs a few weeks back with the pregnancy that could point to a way early delivery.  Even though we're not due until mid-August, and even though the warning signs are lessening, I'm still trying to be cautious (read: trying to be a good mom) and I didn't want to drive alone.  As it turned out, my potential ride-mates were unavailable at the last minute, and I just couldn't go.  It was terribly disappointing, as I don't anticipate getting back up there until Yule at this point, but also a lesson in learning limitations now. 

Our Blessingway ritual is coming up soon, and hopefully circle friends from PA will be joining us here for that, so that there is some sense of celebration together before the world is overtaken (as it should be) by baby. 

Another spiritual development to share before closing, I finally returned to the ocean last weekend for the first time since the great Terribleness.  I think I had imagined that the ocean would forever be raging, and built it into a scary and mighty powerful being in my mind.  I was so surprised that when we arrived that the ocean was gentle and rocking, the nurturing friend it had always been to me.  I cried for a while, and TH had to remind me that "there was never any malice in it" toward our family.  It was too cold to get in, and that seemed a challenge best left to another day anyway, but sitting on the beach all day was a good first step in healing.  I want our baby to know the joy and peace I found in the ocean as a child, but in time, she will also have to know the destructive side as well.  Our little pagan baby in the making. 

I'll be back.  At some point. 
BB!

I can't stop smiling.  Maybe it is because I just got back from my first pre-natal yoga class, and I'm totally energized.  Maybe it is the Peach Mango Salsa I'm practically drinking right now.  Maybe it was the nice long walk in the sunshine today with the dog, and the fact that it is still light out now at 7PM!  Maybe it is looking forward to the walks this week after work, or the pre-natal dance class I have on Tuesday (also totally energizing and full of lovely mamas).  Maybe it is because I have not been thinking about leading Ostara next weekend, and so I haven't had time to be nervous.  Maybe it is because I spent all day yesterday with the young cousins, exchanging their labor for our computer (as arranged by their mom), and we finally, finally, got the office/junk room cleared out for a nursery.  There's not much in there besides a rocking chair and a few neutrally colored (green and yellow) blankets and clothes given to us by friends and family, but now there is space to visualize and dream about what will be.  It was almost a more spiritual exercise than the need for physical space.  Maybe my smiling has to do with the dozens of snow drops blooming in the herb garden or the green tips of many dozens of tulips and hyacinth and crocus and Easter lilies poking up through the dead leaves.  I could almost smell springtime!  Maybe it's my current reading material, the Witch of Portobello, which is an unexpected page turner.  Or perhaps it is the little foot or fist that keeps kicking my bladder and other essential organs, since I am feeling more confident that it is not my digestion that makes these little taps and flutters.  Maybe it's all just pregnancy hormones that have finally decided to agree with me in a very delightful way.  In any case, I'm having a happy, joy-filled day, and I am wishing you all many blessings and joys as well!        

As promised, we have ch-ch-ch-changes to announce.  A few weeks ago, a new creature entered our lives.  A beautiful Husky now shares space with us.  He’s full-grown, but still a puppy through and through.  He’s cuddly, trusting, and totally hilarious.  He’s teachable, he’s sweet.  He also chews up everything in sight, and has broken one leash already with his unbelievable strength.  Even with the challenges of raising a young dog, I am so very happy.  Living with this young boy has shown me how naive I was to take in our last dog.  There is not an aggressive bone in this dog’s body and things I took as normal are not even a thought with my husky.  I had so much hidden anxiety when people came to visit with our last dog, and I was on constant alert to protect people from dog bites.  But with this sweet boy, I have no worries.  He might exfoliate your face with his sandpaper licks, but he listens when you push him off (if, for some reason you would prefer your own loofah!).  What a sweet change to bring into our lives after such sadness!  

It’s also a joy to return to daily walks.  As my belly grows, and the nausea has finally, finally ended, I’m really enjoying pregnancy and learning how my body is changing.  As movement is my favorite meditation, feeling strong and healthy as this baby grows was very important to me.  Being so sick and losing my walking companion during December made me feel even crappier, but I’m finding myself back on the path to normal, albeit a new and exciting normal.  

I may have to give up the idea of teaching dance class right now, though.  I thought it was such a great idea, but lately it feels like I barely have time to do the stuff I need to do, let alone the things I want to do.  I realized how ridiculous it was when I tried to schedule dinner with a friend, and it seemed that we just could not pick a date anytime soon.  And, then I think of all the other friends I have tried to make plans with and fell through on.  I just don’t know if I can commit to one more night of class and another night of planning each week.  Not right now anyway.  Perhaps, though, I could start teaching after the baby is born.  (I know you are laughing right now!)  But maybe a long time after the baby is born?!?  In the meantime, I’ve found a drop-in prenatal dance class that will be taught in the coming weeks by another belly dancer.  

Tonight I was supposed to be at my covenstead in PA for my second degree elevation.  With the yucky weather however, we decided to delay another week.  This has been a long, long, long time in coming, but another great “change” that is part of the great year 2008.  So far, this year is the light that was at the end of a long and winding tunnel.  The other night I was supposed to gather for a full moon ritual here, and the weather also caused some re-scheduling for that night as well, but I was able to spend the night reading and meditating on this next step under the lunar eclipse.  In this process, I’ve learned to stop for the turn of the seasons.  And this winter has been no exception.  I missed Imbolc with my community in PA again this year due to weather, and this week has been a cozy week, though less social and active than I had planned.

I’m looking forward to a cozy weekend of sewing (I need a new ritual dress that I’ll be able to wear in the coming months that will allow me to dance and allow for my growing girth), finishing one book and starting another I’ve been looking forward to, and cuddling with the pup and the husband, and of course, with baby!    

So, I wrote that last post this morning in a rush before running out the door.  I get really passionate about the right to vote, and as I drove to work, I tried think back as to why.  By the time I got to work, I was wiping away tears after remembering the day it became so important to me. 

Sometime in 1993 or 1994, my little brother became close friends with a little boy at school who was biracial (not at all unusual in our neighborhood, but important to the story).  Our parents became friends and we often spent time with them at ball games and our moms talked as they waited for the kids to come out from school.  One afternoon I was waiting with my mom for my brother to come out of school, and we talked with "Leah" as we waited.  Leah proudly announced that day that she had voted.  My mom, distracted by a thousand other things said, "Oh, ok," not realizing what had truly happened.  I immediately said congratulations, and Leah grabbed my hand with tears in her eyes and in her gentle, musical voice she said, "thank you."  I started to cry as well because I knew what this meant to her. 

WIth that same lilting voice, I had heard countless stories over the past year of the beatings and harassment she had received in her home country of South Africa for falling in love with a man of the wrong color.   She was a black South African, and her husband was a white American.  She had told of the times when no one came to her aid as women shoved their shopping carts into her at the neighborhood grocery store, and times when even the police made nasty comments as she walked down the street.   No one defended her right to love who she chose, and she had no vote, no voice to create change. 

And today, with the end of apartheid, she was finally granted the right to vote in her own country.  Though she was residing here with her husband as he finished his second doctorate at the university here, she was able to vote by absentee ballot.   She  was still her sweet and forgiving self, but she held herself differently now, with dignity, with pride. 

I know that it was not that long ago that such grand changes happened here in our country as well, but this is the moment that it all came home to me.  Now, for the first time since I've become legal to vote, I'm feeling like a patriot.  I found a candidate who inspires me because of who he is, and not because I hate him less than the other guy (how I've voted the last few elections, because gosh darn it, I was going to exercise that right to vote).   I was so thrilled to cast my vote tonight, and the ice storm did not deter me or any of the other people who were skating across the parking lot.  In fact, I strategized with another woman on the best way to get up/down the ice covered steps to the lower parking lot because the upper lot at the high school was already filled.

So even if you are not in love with Barack the same way I am, and even if you are in love with someone else this election year, I encourage you to take advantage of your privilege and right to vote.  I'll write more soon about the ch-ch-ch-changes going on here. 
   

If you live in Maryland, today is the day to vote!  I don't care who you vote for (actually I do have a strong preference, but I'll respect your right to choose!), but I do care that you use your right to vote.  Not everyone has it, so exercise yours!

More later . . .

This afternoon, as I lay in bed reading a book, my husband climbed in next to me for his third (!) nap of the day.  He said, "I'm a firm believer that humans should hibernate in the winter."  And so it is here in our cozy house today.  I have only left the bed to get up and make pancakes this morning and to read at the kitchen table while the morning sunlight warmed the room.  I then retreated to my bed where I've made a significant dent in my book (the first that has captured my attention like this in ages) and caught up on more sleep.   Even the cat has spent most of the day curled up at my feet, or with paws crossed against my elbow. 

Normally, I really have to force myself to slow down during this dream time, the dark winter months.  I'm busy by nature, running here, there and everywhere for social events, going to yoga and dance, even trying to brave the outdoors on the coldest days.  But this winter, with my body preoccupied with the formation of a little human, slowing down is not too difficult.  In fact, it is preferred.  I have had every, and I mean every pregnancy symptom in the book.  All the ones you hear about, and even the weird ones that you worry about (is this related to pregnancy? No one talks about it!) but then find on internet searches to be quite common among other pregnant women.  And despite the discomfort and grossness of some of them, it really is quite reassuring that there is something going on deep inside my body, besides growing too big to wear most of my favorite pants.  This all makes for a sleepy, hibernating mama, who is quite content this winter with staying in the warmth, dreaming of days to come.  I'm still looking forward to the second trimester (less than two weeks away now) and the "sudden bursts of energy" that have become as legendary as myth to me. 

For now, though, I'll read a little more, and then put on thick socks to go visit the neighbors.  They live downstairs, and I don't even have to put on shoes or change out of my pajamas to go sit by their fire.   Together, we'll hibernate and drink warm tea, eat cookies and dream of spring.   Maybe my husband will even wake up from his nap in time. 

Wow, really?  November 26th, huh?  I really thought my last post was at least in the month of December.  Just goes to show what a whirlwind month December really was.   Well, today I write you from my bed.  The lady cat is curled up next to me, the vaporizer continues to send steam into the air, and I'm propped up amidst pillows, blankets, tissues (clean and used in different piles!), papers, a cup of tea and the most recent issue of Hip Mama zine.

It's been a wild few weeks here in Wicca 201 land, with a number of life changing events (aren't they all life changing anymore?) that led me to take another day off to recover from this yucky cold.  Well, we'll go with the bad news first (there is good news in here too, so keep reading).  I had written long ago about my many walks with the sweet but wild David John, our rescue dog who joined our family in May 2006.  From the start we were told he had some behavior issues, mostly around biting when you grabbed his collar.  The rescue (and we) suspected he had been abused by a previous owner and that this somehow involved David being hurt when he was touched in this area.  We naively believed the rescue folks who said that with some obedience training and a lot of love, he would eventually become more trusting.

As the year and a half went by, we learned that many more things triggered David's rage, in between being the sweet dog he also could be.  He repeatedly bit people for things you would expect (taking food away from him - never do this to a dog you don't know) and for things you would not expect (being told no when he was trying to follow TH out the front door) and even 18 months into the relationship, David John was not beyond snapping at me and my husband or even biting us, between seeking us out for pets and belly rubs and giving us his paw.  At some point it seemed like it was getting better and then all of a sudden, it seemed to be getting much worse again.

On Christmas Eve, David John severely bit my father-in-law all over his forearm, sending him to the Emergency Room.  My father-in-law is recovering well and forgave the dog right away, but when we called the rescue to say that we could not care for the dog anymore, Animal Control got involved and the Rescue's Behavioral Specialist also said that the dog had to be put to sleep.  Put down.  Euthanized.  Killed.  So many nice terms for the same thing.   So, last Friday, we took our beloved David John to a very nice veterinarian's office and stayed with him as he drifted off to a land where he is hopefully chasing squirrels and cats freely (off leash, as he could not do in life), and preparing for his next, hopefully happier life.  It was the first time I had been with anyone as they died, and it was more peaceful than I thought it would be.   We are still left with the questions of morality, and whether this was the right thing to do.   

The morning of the dreaded day, TH and I discussed driving into the wild somewhere (not much of that around Baltimore) and dropping DJ off in a place where he could join up with a pack of wolves.  He always looked like a wolf, and his aggressive tendencies would have made securing food a non-issue for him.  Of course, he would have been the wolf who wandered into someone's backyard, sat in front of them, offered a paw for a shake, expected a belly rub, and then bit their kid as he took off with the steak he stole off the grill.  

As a pagan who tries to respect all forms of life and has struggled through years of being and not being a vegetarian and all the moral implications of both, this was a really tough decision.  Though, looking back, I don’t know that the decision was mine ever.  I didn’t decide to abuse this dog, and in fact, I made efforts to try to reverse this cruelty.  And in the end, I think the city would have taken the dog anyway, or had him confined to the house for the rest of his life.  I’m still left with the simple fact that he was both sweet and dangerous, and too, aren’t we all!  We miss him terribly, and probably always will.  

So, onto good news.  Though we are still cautious, we have made it past the point of our last loss, and we are happy to tell the world that we are having a baby!!!  Baby should be arriving in mid to late August (by my guessing), and we could not be more happy about this.  We decided to wait until the holidays to tell our families and many of our friends, and it has been such a joy to share with people as they celebrate births (the Sun, the Son, etc) about our own future birth plans.  Of course, this has also meant a very exhausting and nausea filled holiday season, but I could not be more grateful for morning sickness, as it is a sign of a strong pregnancy and a strong baby!  With this cold, I’ve only had momentary nausea this week, since I can’t smell much, but the midwife did give a few good suggestions this morning for stuff to help with the stuffy nose, constant coughing, etc.  

In addition, a big belly is going to make teaching belly dance a lot more interesting and a lot more challenging.  That should start in March or so, and I’m totally looking forward to it.  I’m also starting that Tribal class tomorrow night (if this cold gets significantly better by then) and I’m excited about that possibility too.  Belly dancing is actually really good for the baby and for the mama, and I can’t wait to be more active in that scene again!  

Until then, I’ll stay here in bed, listening to the wind in the trees and reading my zine, drifting off to sleep again and again, waiting for the cold to go away, waiting for the guilt to go away, waiting for the new baby to introduce herself or himself, waiting for warmer days and dancing in the woods.         

It is truly amazing what happens when you let go of disappointment and open yourself to opportunity!  So, last week I told you of the devastating news that Helen was quitting her position of dance teacher to pursue yoga teaching.  I spent a whole lot of time that day on the internet looking at dance classes, but in the end it has paid off. 

I continued to search for Tribal Belly Dance teachers, and only found one in Baltimore.  She appears to be in the middle of a session now, and has not posted the start date for her next series.  She also didn't respond to an email, which is not promising.  I started to give up on this avenue, and decided to focus on what I would want to teach, and envision what my class would look like.  I love formal belly dance, but I also love the free form ecstatic dance as taught by people like Gabrielle Roth.  I don't think I could really dance until I danced her "5 Rhythms", and I love where these two forms come together.  Movement meditation is intensely powerful to me, and this is what I want to teach. 

To that end, I googled "Goddess Dancing."  I found an awesome group in Boston that combines everything I love about ecstatic dance and the Gabrielle Roth type stuff with the formal improvisation of tribal belly dance.  They are called "The Goddess Dancing."  I wrote to them asking if they had any teachers or workshops in the Baltimore area.  I mentioned NOTHING about my new teaching dream.  Cathy wrote me and said no, they don't have teachers here, but perhaps I could be the first certified teacher of their style in this area.  Really guys, what kind of synchronicity is that?!  I am now on their waiting list to do a correspondence course/weekend intensive teacher training, and a copy of their DVD is in the mail.   But wait, it gets better. 

So, I am dancing along my merry little way, excited about the ways this dance thing is coming together, and I'm frolicking amongst the signs from the universe that I should start teaching, when I get a posting on LiveJournal through the MD Pagans group about the opening of the Spiral Dance Bookstore and Womyn's Center.   The post said that they are asking for women to bring their artwork, etc for consignment there, and that any woman with an idea for a class, performance, etc, should contact them.  Seriously, crazy.  So, I thought about it overnight and then sent an email saying that I am looking into teaching a Goddess centered belly dance class, in the next 3-6 months or so, and if they were interested, we could talk more.  Laurie, one of the owners, responded with a very enthusiastic email, and asked me to come in when I could.  I got up early on Sunday morning and stopped into the store after the farmer's market.  The store is pretty much in one of the worst neighborhoods of Baltimore, but the energy radiating from these women was unbelievably fantastic, and they actually chose this location as a way to help the women of this community!  I was instantly drawn to these women, and we talked for quite a while.   They are very women focused, pagan, into community outreach (something I have often found to be missing in the pagan community!).  If you look on the website, there are pictures of the rehab of the store building, which is still in progress, and all of the work has been done by the women themselves (no men allowed!).  Their stock is limited with this first opening, but will be filling in during the next few weeks.   I bought some great pomegranate incense and a cinnamon candle, both of which were made in the shop.  Laurie and Bobbie knew of The Goddess Dancing in Boston, and showed me an awesome ritual/dance space, which they have they have graciously offered to me at such time that I'm ready!  Insanity!!!

Amazing how disappointment can turn into an amazing opportunity when I'm open to it!   This group has community celebrations for Sabbats, and a monthly potluck, which I am going to try to attend next weekend.  It seems like a great community, and a place where I can finally do something with the creativity I've been holding onto for a while.  On Wednesday night, after my last class with Helen, I am doing a ritual to honor the lovely Goddess Hathor, and to formally dedicate myself to this dancing path.  These are exciting times in Wicca 201 land!      

This morning, I went to my favorite independent Baltimore organic salon to get a haircut.  My sweet dance teacher , "Helen", happens to be the manager/receptionist there, and as I had skipped class the past couple weeks due to Halloween, a concert, and other events, we caught up this morning over a cup of green tea.  Her dance partner and co-teacher, who had become a good friend to me as well in the past few months, moved out of state last week (she'll soon be moving to Paris where she will pursue her painting career).  I knew this part, but what Helen told me this morning was that since she is nearly finished with the yoga teacher training class and since her co-teacher left, she is going to stop teaching the tribal fusion belly dance classes she has been teaching and just teach yoga for now.  Though I had felt this coming, I was initially deflated to learn that this class I always look forward to would be ending.  As Helen walked away from me toward another customer, she tossed over her shoulder, "You know, you should teach the class now!"  I laughed and said, "Yeah, right."

But it stuck with me all day.  This was the second time in as many months that someone has suggested I teach a dance class.  A pagan list serve I am on had a message recently noting that a local community college in PA needed someone last minute to take over this semesters belly dance class, with opportunities to take on more classes.  The person knew me personally and suggested that me or one of two other women (both professional dancers and teachers) take on the class.  I had laughed it off that time too, and dismissed even thinking about it as the location was way too far away to even consider.  Besides, me, a dance teacher?  Really?

And now I can't get it out of my head.  I looked online for a while today at the class opportunities in Baltimore.  There is not quite the Tribal Belly Dance community here as there was in Philadelphia.  And the teachers who are around here are not necessarily teaching a style that I would want.  Tribal is very earthy, very community focused, very beautiful.  Tribal can get very strict, but it gives a language for women to dance with each other very easily.  Once you learn the language, you can dance with Tribal dancers from anywhere.   I've been out of the Tribal scene for a while (tribal fusion turns out to be pretty earthy and beautiful, but doesn't teach the same cues as a true Tribal class).

Helen also taught a dance class last year that focused on meditation and movement.  She is a lovely and creative dancer, and I think that I actually gave her some helpful information for that class based on my experiences and studies in this area.  Movement meditation is a particular interest of mine, and something I have definitely been drawn to more and more through the years.  I love the idea of finding stillness and peace in the center of chaos and constant motion.

And last weekend, I went to an African Drumming Concert.  It was called "Bumbada! Women Drumming!"  My downstairs neighbor performed with them, and I was there to see her, but I had another moment of feeling like I had come home.  These are my kind of women.  They were wild and expressive and spirited.  They were so pagan, it was glorious.  I am sure that at least a few of them would have named themselves as such, and all week I dreamt of starting up a series of open Sabbat rituals in Baltimore, a la the open rituals we have in Pennsylvania.  I figured that if I started with this drumming community, we could find the hidden pagans in Baltimore, and bring an awesome energy to this new endeavor. 

I'm still excited about the idea of bringing an open Sabbat to Baltimore, as there does not seem to be much out there like this, but today I am filled with a spiritual dancing energy.  There is definitely an unmet need in Baltimore for Tribal Belly Dance, and for the spiritual side of belly dance.  I feel like I need some more training in an area or two, but these dark months may be a good time to do this study, this preparation.  Maybe this morning's news won't be so bad afterall!    

    

I have put off writing this entry for about a week now.  As I mentioned way back in January, I chose then to take on a spiritual journey that would reach it's culmination in November, and, well, it certainly did.  And, I guess the journey actually started many years before that.  Back when we lived in Pennsylvania, in the fall of 2002 to be exact, I was feeling antsy about religion.  I had been practicing as a solitary Wiccan for so long, and I really just kept returning to the urge to find other like-minded people to practice with.  In the middle of one dark night, I went online and found Sacred Crossroads and their open Sabbat rituals.  I recruited a brave friend who was certainly pagan, but did not name herself as Wiccan at the time.  Samhain was our first group ritual.  We went, we danced, we didn't really talk to anyone beyond cursory greetings, but we felt we had come home.  In this ritual, we called upon Hecate to guide us through this time of reflection and death.  And boy, did she show up!  Hecate was fiery and wild and wise.  She yelled at us, calling us to look within and realize there were things within us that were already dead, and she held us in her arms as we cast off grief and the dark things that no longer served us.   It was a powerful and stunning ritual.  It was comfortably familiar too.  As we lit the candles to remember our ancestors, I remembered doing the exact same thing as a Catholic child on All Saint's Day, November 1st.  We left that night inspired, challenged, ready for more.   

Flash forward to January 2007.  The woman who aspected Hecate at that Samhain is now my high priestess and spiritual mentor.  The brave friend and I have now enmeshed ourselves into this larger Wiccan community which today we call family.   We have both participated in small and large ways with this community and their rituals, classes and workshops for years.  I co-led a ritual last year, and this January, the brave friend volunteered to lead this year's Samhain.  And who do you think she asked to take the part of Hecate?  It may have been fitting even if I had not already descended into an underworld of pain and suffering last fall, but it seemed to be perfectly orchestrated with her in the leadership role of this ritual. 

So, since January, I have read and studied and meditated and delved deep, deeper, and deep, trying to expose the mysteries of Hecate in the dark of night.   I did a tarot reading at the start of this journey and one of the cards I pulled pointed to the hidden dangers of exploring Hecate.  I sort of laughed this off, thinking that I had already been through the worst of it, and that I already knew how dark it would be.  The journey I took this year was beyond anything I had ever experienced or though possible. 

Facing the mysteries of Hecate meant taking a long hard look at the parts of myself that are not usually exposed to other people.  Exploring the tremendous sadness of the past year and really sifting through that, and all the questions about life and death and meaning and existence which were brought forth also meant looking at all the harmful ways I have of dealing with issues when they get too personal or too painful or just too much to bear.  For me, that means pushing away people and things, usually the ones I need the most.  This exposed itself in a very personal and painful way this summer.  Up until then, the voice of Hecate in my meditations was kind, nurturing, rather grandmotherly.  She cradled me often, reassuring me in the dark moments of doubt that my deceased family members were ok, that we were going to be ok.  But when I started to get into my own crap, my own fears, and most especially my personal style of dealing with problems and my old patterns of destruction, she turned harsh and chastising.   Hecate raged against the multitude of ways I used in order to ignore what was really going on and the easy distractions I would turn to instead of facing her. 

This summer was particularly difficult.  I came within days of a choice that would certainly have been the easy one, a choice in which problems would be swept under the rug instead of coming into the light of day.  And even then, Hecate promised me that just as deeply as I felt sadness and pain, so too would I feel ecstatic joy.   Perhaps it was this promise that set me straight.  For taking the easy road meant not going that deep, not getting that sad, that angry, but then, I would never really be that happy, never be filled that deeply with joy.  The wisdom of facing off with those dark nights would have been lost if I had not turned inward with Hecate's torch as a guide.  If I had embraced the easy distractions, gone with the choice to throw away a precious gift that asked too many questions at the time, let myself be pushed over that dangerous (and hidden) edge of the cliff, I never would have come to the deep peace I have found in the dark.

And so, through this wild year of wrestling with my many shadows, I kept a journal devoted specifically to this ongoing discussion with Hecate.  Looking back at that, and even tonight, looking back through my blog, there is a written record of my journey that will be priceless in the years to come.  I struggled though with how to bring this to the ritual.  In the years since we first attended Samhain, the format has changed some, and the role of a male energy has been introduced.  Hades now joins Hecate in charging the people gathered to face the shadows and together they sweep up all of the things people wish to cast off, transforming fear and shame and grief into wisdom and peace and joy again.  Arcturus took on the role of Hades and especially in the last few weeks before the ritual we conversed often, planning and comparing notes.  Our fervent prayer was that whatever we said in that night would be helpful and transformative to whomever was gathered, and not just a message to ourselves.  Too, we approached the ritual less as an aspecting, and more of an invoking (another change in ritual format since that first Sabbat we attended) of the Gods. 

Even so, a week after the ritual is complete, I feel a vibration in my body when I think of that night.  It was too personal to put into words here, too powerful to contain on the page.  People responded in ways I never would have imagined, and magick certainly took place.  I was strangely unaware of certain things (children making noise, the sheer mass of people, how my voice changed, etc) and unusually aware of other things (people crying, energy shifts, the echo of my voice from a far wall)  As Hades and Hecate raised our torches high in the air above the cauldron that night, I was filled with an indescribable sense of Goddess, power, release, wisdom, grief, joy.  As we called into the night, the growl that came from my throat was and was not my own.  Indescribable.  I am content with the way the ritual unfolded.  

And now tonight, I am finding contentment for myself.  I can put away my notebook, knowing that the lessons written throughout it's pages are invoked within me anytime I need them.  I move forward into the dark of impending winter, ever looking back to study the edges of my dark shadow self, remembering always the wisdom to be found there.  I dance though now, with joy in my heart, with peace on my lips.

Today I took down most of the garden.  I trimmed back and pulled up and buried deep the plants killed by the frost last week.  I dug up the red potatoes for dinner this week and next.  I collected hundreds of seed pods from the moon flowers and tomorrow I'll take the last bit of harvest from the herb garden before calling it a year.  I am melancholy over it.  I don't know if I will be here next year when the strawberries and asparagus are promising their best year yet.   We don't know where we will be come spring, as circumstance seems to be pointing us toward a new home by then.  I do know that I am feeling the presence of the Gods and Goddesses so much more intensely, so much more intimately.  The change of the season is welcome; the time to turn inward, with the hard work completed is a blessing that I could not have imagined, let alone asked for.  In another five years, who knows where my brave friend and I will be?    

So, what's a wild pagan girl to do on the most sacred night of the year when she is helping raise five beautiful, but deeply conservative, Catholic little girls?  Go trick or treating of course!  I know, I should be home, spending time with the ancestors, meditating on the past year, going deep, deeper and deep yet again, but sometimes we have to take what we can get.  My extended family really can not join in my pagan celebrations right now, and maybe not ever, but this is one little, albeit goofy, way that we can party it up together at the same time of year and not have to talk about our differences.  Of course it helps that I don't have to be to work until late tomorrow, so the midnight hour is all mine.  Too, Friday's Samhain ritual promises to be a life-changing experience.  Someone compared it to the equivalent of my first communion, and I think she was on to a good sacramental theme there.  Hope you all can make it! 
Last night as I took one of my young clients home from a late appointment, she said, "Hey, wait, do you smell that?  It smells like Halloween.  Don't look at me like I'm crazy, Ms."  I told her I didn't think she was crazy at all, but truly I was stunned because I never knew anyone else who knew what Samhain smelled like.  Maybe it is just fall nights, but this specific smell brought back childhood and tromping through the neighborhood with friends and even more recently, outdoor Samhain rituals and the ritual of just staring out an open window at the moon on this night.  May your day be filled with the smells of inspiration and healing, and perhaps I'll see you Friday!
      

So, in addition to all the things I listed in my previous post, I am also looking forward to more consistent blogging!  Though the weather has not quite turned here yet, there is a wind of change in the air.  As I wrote before, there seems to be time to breathe again, and that seems to include time for writing again. 

Long ago, I promised that I would write something here on harvesting herbs.  And while it might be too late this year for your flowering herbs, I find this to be a great time of year to harvest many of those leafy herbs.  As for auspicious timing on herb harvest, I am a big fan of whatever makes sense to you.  I am usually reminded to do some work in this area around the full moons, or the new moon, or near Sabbats.  I aim for the hottest times of day (though not when the plants are wilted) or when the sun is highest (noon).  Some plants I feel called to harvest at night, under the moonlight. 

You definitely want to harvest happy looking parts of the plant that are not brittle or wilted.  I think I read about this rule somewhere, but I usually follow the thirds rule when deciding how much of a plant to cut.  I first ask the plant's permission (do this in your own intuitive way, they usually say yes, especially when they are in my garden), and then if you are just doing a regular harvest cut no more than one-third of the plant.  Try to leave a few leaves or a joint of the plant on the end of the plant to encourage new growth.  If the plant truly needs a big cutting back, you can take up to two-thirds of the plant.  I would also do this major pruning at the last harvest, as you are heading toward the end of the season.  As you finish, thank the plant, perhaps offering it some water or leaving a few stones nearby. 

To dry these herbs, you have several choices.  Many people place the herbs on paper towels to dry at first.  For my mother's herbs, my father built a structure with a screen (as from a window) that was attached to a wooden frame that allowed air to flow above and below the drying herbs.  This initial drying is so that the herbs can be drawn into a big bunch and tied with string (or yarn, or whatever) and hung to dry.  If you did not do the initial drying, the herbs on the inside of this bundle would rot instead of dry because they would retain their moisture too long.  Due to lack of space, I myself usually skip the drying on towels or screens, and just tie up the herbs in smaller bunches.  As long as each branch is on the outside of the bundle, they usually can achieve the same result in a short amount of time.  As you can imagine, there are now multiple strings of herbs hanging in the upstairs space, and I am careful to keep the air flowing through this area, and not to hang too many of the herbs too close to each other.  Each herb has it's own recommended drying time.  You can often look up this information online, but you can also tell that it is probably ready to store when the plant is brittle to your touch. 

My favorite storage containers are coffee cans.  They do not allow light in, they are compact, and they give a fairly good seal (I also have a million of them, coffee fiend that I am!).  I would also recommend leaving the leaves on the stems until you are ready to use them.  This keeps the strength of the herb in a way that separating them does not allow.  It is not necessary, but my experience has been that herbs are stronger and smellier and more useful when they have stayed connected longer.  Also, you will find that different spells, teas, incenses, etc will call for different parts of the same plant, such as flowers, leaves, stems, roots, seeds.  I don't harvest roots myself, though I would love to hear from those who do!  I just haven't had the need to do it myself, but occasionally I see them listed in spell books, and certainly they are mentioned in the herbal medicine books.  I feel like I would need to learn a whole lot more about them before using them medicinally.  This year's great harvest adventure will be to harvest the seeds of the gigantic moonflowers I have growing in the yard.  There are monstrous seedpods growing on the plants, and today my neighbor and I were discussing the best timing on harvesting them.  We'll keep you updated.            

For the first time in a long time, I feel like I can take a deep breath again.  Some deeply painful issues are on their way to the mend, and my house is really, truly clean.  I know that a clean house may not sound like much, but when I get depressed, the house goes to hell, and when I am really distraught, I have to clean something.  Over the past few months, I have been most distraught, but through physical and ritual cleansing of the mess that accumulated over the past year, my soul finally feels lighter. 

The last room to clean was our ritual/meditation/library/studio/apothecary space.  This week, I cleared away rose petals that had floated under the altar a year ago, ironed up multiple spots of spilled wax on the rug from rituals-gone-wrong, organized and labeled and alphabetized all of my herbs, organized this year's Mabon harvest of herbs from the garden (we still have a Samhain and, with this warm weather, maybe even a Yule harvest to go!), and many other tasks that had been let go for far too long.  The summer altar has come down, and the fall altar is in full swing.  A new book shelf finally went up for all the stacks of books that had started falling off the shelves, and another book case replaced an awkward structure that held an assortment of books and papers and candles and photos and paints and canvases and stationary.  A new lamp is up and the space is filled with light.  The space is clean and there is room to breathe again.  The room is ready for dancing.  And my life is starting to fill with light and space and dancing again.  A little bit anyway.  We are moving into the dark time of year, you know, but somehow I am facing the upcoming darkness with a sense of hope and excitement I haven't had in a while. 

There's meeting friends for coffee at the farmer's market, and funky fall clothes, and the kids' soccer games, and my newly planted mums that will bloom this week, and my friend's band's upcoming concerts, and more herb harvesting, and zucchini bread, and new thick socks and my soon to be finished knit scarf, and crunching leaving in the woods with the dog, all of these things to look forward to!  Oh, and rituals, the many awesome rituals that are coming up!  This year's Samhain promises to hold many challenges and resolutions, and I just can't wait for it!   It really feels like a harvest of so much hard work this time, and I am feeling most blessed.