home blessing ritual, Bones style

Characters
Me
Archer, my husband
Bear, my son
Roxy the Brave, my old dog
Stella-Boo the Neurotic, my young dog
NaaNaa the Lion-Hearted, my deceased kitty
Eric the Joy-Bringer, my other deceased kitty
an assortment of statues: one at (near) each doorway and window, on the inside of the house
my house, including its yard



Ingredients
salt, whatever I have on hand
stone, collected from my yard
cedar oil
bowl
ashes of NaaNaa and Eric
hair from Stella-Boo and Roxy
flower petals, from my yard
some sort of talisman for my house's spirit that I'll come up with (hopefully) before the ritual



Steps

At the home altar, in the heart of the home:

1. mix salt, stone, and oil in bowl
   Salt of the wild Ocean,
   Stone of the desert Earth:
   Keep my home safe and sound.

2. add to the mix: ashes of NaaNaa and Eric
   NaaNaa the Lion-Hearted,
   Eric the Joy-Bringer:
   Hearth-friends, Soul-friends, hear me: 
   Walk these walls, Watch our home;
   Keep us safe, Keep us wise;
   Stand as Guards.

3. add to the mix: hair from Stella-Boo and Roxy
   Roxy the Brave,
   Stella-Boo the Neurotic:
   Hearth-friends, Soul-friends, hear me: 
   Walk these walls, Watch our home;
   Keep us safe, Keep us wise;
   Stand as Guards.

4. add to the mix: flower petals
   As life flourishes around us,
   let us grow, too: 
   undaunted by life's storms,
   nourished by the challenges we face.

Around the outer edge of the yard:

5. annoint each corner and gate with the mixture, creating a circle
   This is Home. This is Mine.
   No illwill can find root here.
   No illwill can cross this line.
   This is Home. This is Mine.
   Only goodwill can find root here.
   Only goodwill can cross this line.
   This is Home. This is Mine.

Around the outside of the house:

6. annoint each corner and door, creating a circle
   This is Home. This is Mine.
   No illwill can find root here.
   No illwill can cross this line.
   This is Home. This is Mine.
   Only goodwill can find root here.
   Only goodwill can cross this line.
   This is Home. This is Mine.

Inside the house:

7. annoint each statue and door, creating a circle
   This is Home. This is Mine.
   No illwill can find root here.
   No illwill can cross this line.
   This is Home. This is Mine.
   Only goodwill can find root here.
   Only goodwill can cross this line.
   This is Home. This is Mine.

8. return to the altar at the home's heart

9. place bowl on the altar, annoint talisman of the Home spirit
   Spirit of this Home, I give you:
   Salt of the wild Ocean,
   Stone of the desert Earth;
   Spirit of this Home, I give you:
   NaaNaa the Lion-Hearted,
   Eric the Joy-Bringer;   
   Spirit of this Home, I give you:
   Roxy the Brave,
   Stella-Boo the Neurotic;
   Spirit of this Home, I give you:
   Petals from your own yard,
   Signs of your life. 
   Spirit of this Home, I give you:
   My dedication to you.
   You are my home,
   and I will keep you
   safe and sound.

   This is Home. This is Mine.
   No illwill can find root here.
   No illwill can cross this line.
   This is Home. This is Mine.
   Only goodwill can find root here.
   Only goodwill can cross this line.
   This is Home. This is Mine.

So mote it be.

oh ritual

I can't tell, when I write "oh ritual," whether I'm shaking my head at the wayward child ("Oh, Ritual, what did you do now?") or uttering an expletive after stubbing my toe ("Oh Ritual! That hurt!").

For now, I'll just leave it unpunctuated and undefined.

What does an animist with shamanic tendencies do when called upon to write a ritual?

Well, my first step was to load up the ol' google machine. Which, of course, got me about a bazillion Wiccan rituals that were in no way appropriate for what I wanted to do.

Oh, yeah, I'm trying to write a ritual for a handfasting. My handfasting. With Archer. Which means it has to honor the spiritual paths of Archer and me. Neither of us is remotely Wiccan. We're not really Druids, either. Nor is either of us really Asatru or Heathen, though I wander that way sometimes.

Anyway.

Where are all the animist rituals? (Wait for it...) Oh. Right. There aren't any. I'm starting to realize that none of the animist writers I read talk about doing rituals. This doesn't mean they don't do them, it's just that they're not talking about it. Not in the same way that you see Wiccan rituals all over the internet. The animist writer might mention having done a brief private ritual for this or that, but the ritual is so intensely personal and specific to their purpose that it doesn't translate, or they just can't/won't describe it at all.

Do animists do rituals? Is it just that I haven't found the ones who do?

With the clock ticking on designing this handfasting ritual, I thought about the elements I wanted to include. To shape these elements, I looked at examples of - yes - Wiccan rituals, Heathen blots, and Druidic rites (these were what I could find online and in the texts I own). I didn't necessarily use the forms I found; more often, I used them to craft an outline from negative space (to use an artist's term). That is, the examples of formalized ritual from other paths showed me what I wanted to avoid. Those were what not to do, while still being related somehow to what I did want to do.

To further complicate things, I wanted the ritual to also be meaningful to the other participants: a few of our closest friends and family, who aren't necessarily pagan at all (though luckily, none of them would be in any way offended by our pagan ways).

So here's what I did: I took all the things I did want, and tried to craft them into something that made sense to people not on the same path as either Archer or me, while shaping the intent of the ritual in such a way that it made me happy.

Example A: What to do about the elements? I haven't called quarters for my private rituals in probably more than a decade. I don't feel the need to call them, because they're already here. Always. They're part of me. I don't call my hand when I want to pick up a glass, either. In my way of seeing things, these energies we work with are not distant sprites to be called (or not) on our whim. They're integral to ourselves, to our world, to everything. But I do want to acknowledge the presence of those energies within us, and draw them to our attention because I think doing so strengthens the sense of commitment we will endow in our oath. 

So, if I'm not going to call the elemental energies into the circle (the casting of the circle is another thing I don't do... I'll come back to that) maybe I can call them from within ourselves, thereby bringing our own connections into play, and preparing us individually for making the handfasting oath. Here's what I have come up with, so far, for that:

From Within, we call Air: clarifying our thought and speech.
From Within, we call Fire: clearing the way for new life.
From Within, we call Water: rising from our greatest depths.
From Within, we call Earth: standing solid to house us.  

So that's what I've been struggling with for the past two weeks.
Oh and I'm working on a home blessing ritual that Archer and my son can participate in with me.
Oh and a dear friend of mine asked me to collaborate with a couple other friends to write a ritual for her coven, for Beltaine. Obviously I said I would, because I love her.
It's all rituals and cowbells up in here, folks. And me with no predilection for candle waving.

This morning, I saw the new prompt for the Pagan Experience. It goes, "Ritual - What is your definition of the word “ritual”? What are your rituals- mundane and spiritual? How do they inform each other? Is ritual a necessary component to spiritual practice?"
And I thought, I should write a response to that one. Maybe it'll help me figure out how to write this damn beautiful/wonderous/pile-o-awesome handfasting ritual.

This afternoon, while working on this very post by looking through my blog feed to avoid doing any actual writing, this post from Lupa, one of my favorite modern pagan authors (translation: one of the ones whose path I feel has the most affinity with my own path), came up in my feed. In it, she says, "there are things I’ve left behind me as I’ve carried along my path. Rituals, for example. I no longer do much in the way of formal ritual, unless it’s a very special occasion." And I thought, "Me too!" I remember doing tons of rituals when I was a baby pagan and had just learned of Wicca. I'd be sitting there with candle and Cunningham's in my fists, trying to breath properly and connect with a Lord and a Lady I wouldn't have known from Adam and Eve.

Deeper into Lupa's article, she shares this gem: "When I did formal rituals before, a lot of my purpose was to find connection to the sacred. Now I recognize that I am immersed in the sacred at all times, and my goal is not to find the sacred but to remind myself of it, both in thought and action."

Yes. Yes. Yes. So much YES. Exactly! So if I can just get the handfasting (and other rituals) to reflect that idea, I'll be alright.

(Incidentally, later in that same paragraph Lupa mentions working out of Cunningham's Guide for the Solitary Practitioner in her early days. I lol'd, companionably, with the mental image of that book cover burned into my retinas.) 

~~~

Yeah, I'll probably post all about the handfasting when I get it all figured out. No worries, y'all.
And I'll post the ritual I come up with for the house blessing, too.

By the way, I'm sharing this over at the Pagan Experience. Then I'm gonna read what everyone else over there has to say about the subject. Happy reading!

~~~

Oh crap, I forgot to get back to you on the circle casting thing.
Well, basically I feel like every space is sacred, so it's a bit arrogant to say I'm creating sacred space, eh? But there are practical reasons too. For one thing (and Lupa describes this in her article, linked above, too), I just don't need it anymore. I can focus on the sacred without the activities of creating a circle. Also I don't want to cut off the 'outside' world from what I'm doing 'inside' the circle. I'm seeking connection, so why cut myself off? Anyway that's my take on it. 

growing the little house of Bones

I live in a little house.
It might  be 900 square feet. It has two bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen, a living room, and a dining room.
There are no hallways.
I use the front porch and yard as my art studio.
My 'laundry room' is an attached shed; I have to go outside to reach it. I share that space with house spiders, because they keep the flies down.
This house is full to bursting with me, my son, and our dogs. This house has a friendly, warm feeling to it that I cherish. It's a happy house, and it makes me happy.
There isn't room in it for one more living thing. Or any more dead things, for that matter. In fact, I recently had to get rid of some books because I realized I could not possibly fit another bookcase in this house, and stacking them in front of the bookcases is hoarder-esque.

I didn't really understand exactly how full my house was until I considered how I might go about making a third person comfortable here. That third person, of course, is Archer. He will be moving in with me in the near future. So as I thought things like, "I could move this over there, and..." it dawned on me that no amount of shuffling furniture would make this house big enough for all of us.

So I'm gearing up to move out of this little house that has sheltered my son and I for the past almost-three years. This is the house that taught me there is no such thing as "hoarder-chique." It taught me that I can garden, and things will actually grow. It taught me the value of leaving a string of lights up on the front porch - my house always looks inviting. It taught me to love front porches - now a requirement for future homes of mine.

I'll miss this house. It will be awkward, for all of us, learning to live in a new space with a new person. And when I go to see a potential house, I'm looking for something I cannot see. I'm looking for happiness in the walls, peace in the floors, and comfort in the ceilings. 

the bones of Naanaa

Naanaa is my spectral loneliness, my black panther-kitty who would have lived if I'd had the money to save him.

He was two years old. A panther in miniature. Hunter extraordinaire and silent stalker of my face under the blankets. He only snuggled when I wasn't looking, but he watched out for his little brother, Muzi, and let my then-six-year-old son carry him around like a rag doll. His face was always haughty, even when he was purring. He purred loudly. There must have been a jet engine somewhere in all that muscle where his soul hid. He was a big cat, but lean and regal. You never knew his size until you tried to pick him up. Only two people could pick him up: my son and me. He was as loyal as the dogs he disdained. I used to have a picture of him as a kitten, sitting on an old high-back chair with Muzi, who at that age was more fluff than kitten. Muzi is spacing out, looking somewhere nobody else can see. Naanaa is sitting iron-rod straight, his eyes burning holes into the camera. He was always intense.



On Ostara, 2010, I was driving my son to the city pool. We didn't get far. I pulled over because I'd heard a noise that sounded almost like a tire catching a nail, loudly. I checked around the truck, but didn't see anything wrong. I started driving again. The noise came again, only twice, like two rounds from a rifle on automatic. Pop-pop, only softer. I pulled over again, and looked more carefully. This time, there was blood dripping down from somewhere in the engine area. A moment of confusion, then panic because Naanaa had been outside and out of sight when we left the house. And I hadn't called him when we went outside. He always came when I called, but I hadn't been worried about him and we were in a hurry to meet Bear's friend at the pool. Then I saw a flap of sleek black leg.

I told Bear there was something wrong with the truck. I didn't mention Naanaa. I called my friend, his friend's mom, and asked her to come pick him up. Said I'd explain when she got there. Didn't want Bear to hear me. She took the boys to the pool so I could deal with "some engine trouble."

Naanaa let me pull him down from the fan casing where he'd been lounging before the truck started. He was so docile. He was scared, but he stopped hissing when he heard me speaking to him. As I cradled him against my chest, he began to purr. I think he was in shock. I wrapped him up in my towel, not looking for what was broken or missing. His little face was so serious, so certain that I would make it all better.

Two other vehicles had stopped to help; one of them went back to their house for a cat carrier. I put Naanaa, blanket and all, into the carrier, and put the carrier on my passenger seat. I took the phone number of the person who'd loaned me the carrier, and I drove into town. It was a Sunday, so the first three veterinarians' offices I drove to were closed. I was a complete wreck long before I found the one that was open. Naanaa had started to cry, too.

His right hind leg was shattered. His left hind leg was gone. The vet the remaining hind leg might be salvageable, but it would take a lot of time and care - his words. I had time and care in spades.

At that point, the bill was already over $400. I had $48 between cash and my bank account. The vet wouldn't do anything else until I paid, and showed that I could pay for additional services.

I called my mother.
She said I had too many pets, and they were taking up too much of my money.

I begged the vet. I begged the vet's receptionist.
They lectured me on running up bills I couldn't pay.

With a show of see how generous I am, the vet euthanized my Naanaa, because I couldn't afford even that.
The bill was just above $500. I gave them the $40 I had in cash, and agreed to bring the rest when I got my paycheck. The receptionist was greatly displeased with me. The vet's assistant put Naanaa's still body in my arms, wrapped again in the towel, and looked at me sympathetically, silent. They wouldn't take his body. That would have added to my bill.

By the time I left, I was glad Naanaa was coming home with me.
I laid him on my altar that night.
The next day I cremated him in my fire pit. I had to light the fire several times. I didn't really know how to do what I was trying to do. He burned for three days. Finally, when there was nothing left but his skull, I stopped relighting the fire. I kept his skull and a few other bits of bones that had hidden in the ashes. At the time, I couldn't have told you why I kept them. Instinct told me to, and I did.

The fragile bones have crumbled into smaller pieces now, but I still have Naanaa's bones.
They're cradled in a green glass cat, that's curled in a sleeping pose and was probably intended to be a votive candle holder. Naanaa's bones live on my altar.

I began writing this post on 21 March 2013, the third anniversary of Naanaa's death. I had to write it just a little at a time. It still hurts that I couldn't save him. 

Jack Frost!

I was thinking about him last night as I laid in bed, falling asleep. He has a prominent role in this year's Christmas-classic-to-be, The Rise of the Guardians. Great movie, by the way. I loved it. Very pagan-y, not a madonna to be seen in the whole thing, and Jack Frost - one of my favorites - had a starring role. What's not to love? Oh, and it was pretty funny. Jack Frost's epiphany could have been written a bit better, I thought, but hey - that's really the only moment I didn't fully enjoy. And it was a rather short moment.

Side note: I was impressed with how they explained the Tooth Fairy. I won't spoil it, but yeah, that was cool.

So anyway. Movie critique aside, what really excited me was seeing my little Bear (my child) get excited about Jack Frost. See, Jack Frost was my favorite of the big legends when I was growing up. Santa was cool, but I caught my mom in that cover-up pretty early (something I've managed to successfully avoid with Bear, thank goodness), so Santa wasn't all that. Jack Frost, on the other hand, left beautiful works of art on my window every morning, all winter long. And really, that wasn't until I was a teenager.

See, when I was a kid I lived with my mom, and we always had heat in the house. So even though we lived in upstate New York, I'd only see the frost on the windows when I woke early, which wasn't all that often. But when I was a teenager I lived with my dad, and my bedroom didn't have heat. It would have if I'd left my bedroom door open, but I didn't. I needed the seclusion more than the heat. I needed my bedroom to be my refuge - I thought of it as my cave, my own space where I couldn't be hurt. It's where I went to heal when I was wounded. Honestly, in hindsight I realize it wasn't much different than my dogs running to their kennel when they're in trouble. Only, I was in trouble all the time. Anyway, my room was freaking cold.

I'd pile up in my blankets, creating a tent of warmth, and listen to music while I stared out the window. My room was in the corner of the house, and the window looked out over the lakes and hills below us. The wind was louder in my room than in any other room of the house, and I loved it. I had positioned my bed so that the foot was next to the window. My desk was at the foot of my bed, which served as my chair if I felt like sitting there. I didn't sit there much, though, because my desk was more of a hidey-hole for all my little trinkets, and the top of the desk was dominated by my stereo. (Which, by the way, had two tape players in it. Ha!)

When it was really cold, which was pretty much all winter, I would sleep with my head in the corner of the room and my feet near the window, with extra blankets over my feet because the window wasn't really sealed all that well. Or maybe the seal was just overwhelmed by the cold. I don't know. Anyway, the extra blankets helped. In the deepest parts of winter, I would sleep with the next day's clothes in the bed next to me, so they would be warm when I put them on the next morning. I'd bring my pillow under the blankets with me, and craft a blankety tunnel from my face to the fresh air, with a curve to soften the cold. In that little den-within-a-cave, I slept quite well.

Mornings were always good, despite my insomnia and my preference for sleeping in. In the morning, the house was quiet (nobody else was a morning person, either), and my window was painted with frost. I'd tunnel to the foot of my bed and lift the blankets just enough to peek out and admire the artwork. Then I'd peek over the frost to check on our cows, in the field just below. Sometimes I'd see our horses, but they usually preferred to hang out in the lower tree line, where it was a bit warmer and a bit too far for me to see clearly. Then I'd lay there, holed up in my little den, and listen to music.

I thought about Jack Frost a lot, then.

Since leaving New York, I haven't had much cause to think of him. I hadn't forgotten - I still thought of him every time I did see frost, but that wasn't very often. I live in Arizona, now. I'm a big fan of being warm pretty much all year, but I do miss Jack Frost. I don't miss the cold, or the snow, just the beautiful filigrees on my windows in the morning. Of course, you can't have one without the others.

The Guardians movie brought Jack Frost back to the forefront of my thoughts, and I'm delighted that my little Bear thought Jack Frost was "so cool."

Last night, several hours before I went to bed, I was grumbling about the clouds that had rolled in right before sunset, because I was going to miss out on the meteor shower. "The first time in weeks that we've had clouds, and it's the night of the meteor shower. Figures." My mother called me from Iowa to tell me that she just saw the most awesome meteor, and I should go outside to watch the shower. "Yeah, thanks Mom. I'm appropriately envious now." Then it started raining. I grumbled some more because it was just downright cold (for southern Arizona).

I didn't sleep well last night. I fell asleep quickly enough, but I woke at 4am, and never got completely back to sleep. I dozed on and off, noticing the clock at 5-something, 6-something, and a few more times before 8-something, when my dogs decided I was awake enough to feed them. I really was awake by then, although I did not want to get out of bed. (Nice warm bed. Soft bed. Ahhhhhhh.) I got up anyway, to let the little bouncing Bella dog outside. My old boxer dog, Roxy, refused to got outside - too damn cold and she hadn't had her breakfast yet. As I thought about getting Roxy's jacket out for her (she's thin-skinned and short-haired, and adamantly anti-cold), I turned to look out the door, to see where Bella had gone... and there was frost on the windows of my truck. Filigrees, tender little ferns of frost.

It made my heart happy.

Good to see you again, Jack.




And now, as I finish this post, I'm looking out the window next to my desk at the front of my house, and I see that my truck's windows are clear, but there's snow falling from the sky. Until next time, Jack. Be well.

x is for xylophone: a short story

When we were kids, little kids, before any bad things happened, my brother was partially deaf and had trouble learning words. Later, Mom would have his tonsils removed, and that somehow fixed his hearing, because the deafness was linked causally with frequent and severe ear infections. But until that happened, he said words like, "Kee qu-oom," which meant 'thank you.' Our older half-brother, who was a teenager at the time, delighted in giving the younger boy words to say, just to see how they would be repeated back.

"Hey, say 'thank you.'"
"Kee qu-oom!" *giggle*
...and so on.

Until one morning at breakfast,...
"Say 'xylophone.'"
"Xylophone!" *grin*
...and jaws dropped all over the table.

Some things just come naturally. Some times, it's a thing we least expect.

self-renewal and repurposing my home

I've been quiet of late, I know.
I'm reordering my life. I'm focusing more on my relationships - with my child, with myself, with my gods, and with my loves - and I'm reorganizing my house, so that it will be more of a sanctuary - for my child, myself, my gods, and my loves. That's what I've always sought in a home; that's what I will create, here, for the first time in my life. A sanctuary, gestalt.

~

Odin seems to have taken up permanent residence on my altar. I think I need to make him an altar of his own, so I can retain the general-usefulness of the one current altar in my house. I'm not sure, yet, where I'll put it. Probably in my bedroom somewhere. But I need my altar for other work.

~

Yesterday I spent a large-ish chunk of time contemplating ways to make my home stronger, less malleable to the expectations of others. Hmm, I suppose that requires some explanation.

Here's the thing: I wouldn't have thought of this if it hadn't happened. I'm still not totally sure it isn't coincidental, but the more I think about it, the more my doubt fades. It just doesn't make sense any other way.

Every night, my dogs sleep soundly from the time I go to sleep (or earlier), until I wake up in the morning, and I wake them up by opening my bedroom door. Frequently, me opening my door only wakes up Bella, the younger of the two dogs. I have to intentionally rouse Roxy, my old lady dog, to get her up for her morning potty break. And every day, my child sleeps until at least 8am, if not 9am. I am always the first one awake in my house. On the rare occasions that I oversleep, the dogs stay quiet, waiting for me and snoozing, while Child plays quietly in their room. If I oversleep, it's because (I'm exhausted, and) the house is quiet enough that I can. In the mornings, as I get close to waking, I sleep very lightly indeed.

Every time that Archer spends the night, something happens to disturb our sleep. The dogs have a coughing fit (I'm lookin at you, Bella, with the one ticklish hair caught in your throat), or they've eaten something that disagreed with them (oh Roxy the Ravenous) and are loudly vomiting all over my carpet (really, you couldn't at least aim for the tile?). Or Child wakes up at the crack of dawn, and knocks on my door because "it's morning, Mama!" W.T.F. household. Why you gotta be like that? And why do you only do this shit when Archer is... here? Oh....

There has to be a reason. Archer and I have been together almost two years - the longevity of this issue makes me really think it's not a coincidence, any more. Maybe it was at first, but not after so long. It has become... habitual. And why is that? It could be that Child and my dogs feel a change in the household when Archer is here. It could be. But... that doesn't feel like it's a strong enough variable to be independent. Their energy is unfocused, reactive but not driven. Archer's energy, on the other hand, is Driven. He is powerful, whether he means to be or not. His expectations have a way of coming true.

So I think that my house needs to be given a purpose. It needs direction of its own, and the energy to resist the expectations of anybody who isn't Me. It's My house, dammit. As I contemplated how to do this, Sretya seemed to come back out of the mists. Of course - homes are her thing. In hindsight, that's probably why she didn't want to be involved in my recent spellwork that opened the door for Odin coming into my life. It was to help something that was outside my home, and outside my household. Duh.

Anyway, that's why I need the only altar I have, back. Odin is here, so with his and Sretya's approval, I'll include him in the ritual, In fact, with the approval of all three, I'll include Hela, Odin, and Sretya, each for their own reasons. But, Sretya is the power behind this upcoming work. Hela and Odin are there for me, in their ways, but Sretya is there for the home. The altar will need to reflect that. And Odin needs his own. Maybe Hela does too - I'll ask.

Once I complete this work, I'll get back to working on learning the tarot and the 78 days project, and re-learning the runes.

I'll keep you posted.

Samhain, obviously

It's the morning after, but I'm not done with this season yet. In my book, Samhain is a season, not a day. And I like it that way. The veil is thinning  - it doesn't just I'm always a little sad when each day of the season is over; I won't have an excuse to do all this again until next year (without looking awfully eccentric, that is).

We still have Dia los Muertos to celebrate. That's a big deal in this region, and the themes are the same as those we recognize in Samhain, so we celebrate that despite not being hispanic or latino. Besides, it gives us a chance to share in a public celebration of the dead, which we don't usually get as pagans.

Yesterday was pumpkin carving, costumery, trick-or-treating, and a mute supper. In other words, awesome. I cooked dinner, which I almost never do. Beef roast, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and baked beans. I made everything from scratch except for the baked beans, which were canned. That makes it sound like I did a lot of work (unless you cook, and you know how little work goes into mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce, and a roast done in the crock pot). That's my kind of home cooking. I was going to make pumpkin pie, but I didn't have enough evaporated milk, or anything to substitute for it, and I really  didn't feel like driving to the store. So we'll do that tonight.

The down side? Missing Archer. This holiday is so very family oriented; it felt strange to not have Archer near, and stranger still to know that he is on the other side of the country and sick with something flu-like, and the distance is keeping me from being there for him. Making him soup. That kind of thing. His illness compounds the normal missing-him part. I want to help, but all I can do is get off the phone with him, so he can sleep. Are you reading this, Archer? I love you. 

 

the week of Samhain festivities continues!

The day between the full moon and Samhain - today - my coven is having our Samhain ritual. Which means I'm leaving my little town for the first time since Friday. I have class tonight, too. Statistics, bleh. I don't know about statistics class, but I'm feeling well enough for ritual. My energy is somewhat better than neutral - a huge improvement. I even cooked  myself lunch today. I'm quite pleased with myself. And despite my misgivings, I'm leaning toward being ok with the new medicine. So far, it seems like it's a good thing.

Pumpkin carving and more Samhain stories tonight tomorrow!

time out

I took this weekend off from the world.

Saturday's plan to go to the flea market and the farmer's market got cancelled. I just couldn't do it. I didn't sleep Friday night. I was exhausted Saturday morning - but still unable to sleep - and I worried about the safety of driving.

Maybe I could have slept, I don't know. Every time I laid my head on my pillow, the tears came. It was too painful to let my mind wander. So I distracted it with books and games. And before I knew how late it was, the sun was rising.

My new meds came in the mail Saturday morning. I checked my mail, because I promised Archer I would. I took a dose, then took a nap.

Today is day three of the new meds. It seems to be helping. I got to sleep before 1am Saturday night, and before midnight last night. That's a huge improvement. I've been getting to sleep around 4-5am for the past several weeks. Except for the nights I stay with Archer - then I get to sleep by 11pm, usually - but those are too few and far between.

Enough of that. I'm feeling gradually better. Today I feel... like I don't want to move, but I can  move, and that's an improvement. Today I have the strength to fight back.

I'm still skipping class today. I'm not quite that  ambitious. Yet. I'll have to make myself go tomorrow. That's my statistics class, and I can't afford to miss that one.

I did still include my child in some Samhain activities this weekend. We talked about our town's local ghosts, did some baking from our "harvest" at the grocery store Friday night, and explored our family tree on ancestry.com. Which, by the way, is completely addictive.

~

I did something else Friday night. I continued the oracle reading I had started on Thursday.

Thursday, I had drawn the first three. After the reading I left the cards in order, setting them on my altar. Friday, it felt right to continue.

In shorthand, I would read this as (roughly): "Remember what's good (otter); return the loyalty of dogs, they will guide you (dog); speak kindly to yourself (fox). Healing requires transformation (adder); persistence will bring you home (ram); find the strength to lead yourself, to be ok with being alone (wolf). Connect to what matters, leave the rest behind (hawk); be open to nourishment offered by others, particularly feminine deities (cow); you will find your place in the world through this journey (horse). These are the lessons to balance destructiveness with construction, to resolve long-buried conflicts and begin a new life (raven).

Good advice. I hope I can do it.

~
I use The Druid Animal Oracle Deck by Philip & Stephanie Carr-Gomm, illustrated by Bill Worthington.

a week of Samhain festivities: day 2

Day 2: Saturday 27 October

It's Farmer's Market Day! Yay!

We're going to round up the Last Harvest with a trip to our town's Farmer's Market. It's always an awesome event, but of course being so close to Halloween, it'll be even awesomer on this day.

Then home for carving pumpkins and making Pumpkin Pie Spice Butter! Double Yay!

Pumpkin carving is a great time to talk about the thinning of the veil. I'm taking a certain amount of homeschooling-mom pleasure in the fact that in Child is learning about metaphors in our Literature lessons right now, and I can reinforce that lesson by explaining the metaphor of the veil. I look at it this way (and this is roughly how I will explain it to Child):

The "veil" is a metaphor we use to describe the thin, porous separation between the world we can see and touch with our bodies, and the world that only our souls can feel. It's like the difference between body and soul. These two things - our bodies and our souls - are connected and so entwined that it can be hard to tell where one begins and the other ends, but they are also two different things. The two worlds are like that - it's hard to tell sometimes where the physical world ends and the spirit world begins, but they are in fact two distinct worlds which happen to be located in the same places. Now, even though we are souls, we still live in our physical bodies in the physical world. There are other beings who live in the spirit world only, and we can only see them when they find ways to reach our souls, or when they find a way to cross the "veil" and enter the physical world. This is important to know because during this time of year, the veil thins. It is thinnest on the night of Samhain, which is the same night as Halloween. The thinning of the veil makes it easier for spirits to communicate across the veil. So Samhain night is the easiest night of the year for us to communicate with those in the spirit world, while staying in the physical world.

Child's inevitable question: Who lives in the spirit world? The souls of the dead who have not yet been reborn, the spiritual memories of our ancestors, the elemental energies, and the deities. 

~

We will have a dinner story with our meal this evening; I'll read "Journey to the Shining Isle" by Starhawk, tweaking it ever so slightly, to replace the generic goddess stirring the cauldron of souls with the named Goddess, Babd of the Morrigan.

~

Our town has innumerable festivities planned for this weekend; we'll wander about and join in as we please, between our family events.

~

To make the pumpkin pie spice butter, combine these ingredients, mix well, then store in the refrigerator for up to three weeks:

4 tbs softened unsalted butter
4 tbs pumpkin puree
1 tsp brown sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
1/8 tsp ground cloves
1/8 tsp ground ginger
1/8 tsp grated or dried nutmeg
1/8 tsp salt

(the cloves, ginger, and nutmeg can be substituted as a group, with 1/2 tsp pumpkin pie spice)

I got this recipe from Witchin in the Kitchen's facebook page.

~
The fall leaves clip art used above came from this website: http://www.kidsturncentral.com/holidays/clipart/fallclipart.htm

a week of Samhain festivities: day 1

So I decided to make a big deal of Samhain this year. You know, as opposed to Halloween, which has always been a big deal. This year Child's getting involved, and I'm taking the opportunity to finally teach Child some of my beliefs. This will be a week(ish)-long celebration. I'm excited.

~
I've noticed I'm getting better at planning activities for Child since I started homeschooling. Come to think of it... my whole life is getting more organized. All because the homeschooling schedule demands it. 

Huh. Didn't see that coming.

Day 1: Friday 26 October

Samhain - Summer's End, in the language of our (Child's and my) Scottish ancestors. We can feel it here in the high desert. Summer is ending; it gets cool every night, now, and the days are short and the lengthening nights are often windy.

We homeschool, so instead of the regularly scheduled history lesson (the beginning of the Age of Exploration, if you're curious), Child will be learning about the history of Samhain. I've hopped across the internet and scoured my own books, and come up with a plain-language but thorough enough story of the holiday. I'll share it in a separate post.

This evening, Child and I will participate in a haunted house event at my college to kick off the season. On our way home, we'll stop at the grocery store and "harvest" a large hunk of beef to roast, some potatoes, apples, and sweet potatoes (yay pie!). We'll pick up some cider and mead, and pumpkins too. I'm using the shopping trip to explain the harvest that our ancestors would have done, and that I participated in as a young'un growing up on a cattle farm.

I'm cutting the festivities there, for today. Child's attention span is easily overloaded.

If Child's interest is still engaged when we get home, we might talk some about the predators our ancestors would have seen this time of year - notably, wolves - because of the relative scarcity of prey, and the not-quite-too-cold-yet conditions that would keep them moving about, rather than hiding in dens. And bears, which would be preparing for hibernation.

~
The fall leaves clip art used above came from this website: http://www.kidsturncentral.com/holidays/clipart/fallclipart.htm

Samhain is acomin'

...as it edges nearer, and the desert autumn comes fully into season...

I think it's time to include my Child in a rite. This is the sort of thing Child can understand. Honoring those who have passed beyond this life and into another makes sense to Child. Now I just need to come up with an inclusive ritual.

We will honor my paternal grandparents and my sister, none of whom my Child remembers, but we will also honor some who are known to Child, like our cats Naanaa and Alison, and our dog Chaunzy.

We will pay respect to Hela in our ritual.

This might be a good time to foster a stronger relationship with our home and the spirits that live here, or even our totem animals.

It will have to be very active, to keep Child's attention.

That's what I know at this stage of planning, which is preliminary at best.

~

I've decided to take some tips from Circle Round, by Starhawk, Diane Baker, and Anne Hill. There are quite a few suggestions for activities, so I'm thinking of making a week of it, maybe doing one or two things each day for the five days or so before, then culminating with a Feast of the Dead ritual (of my own devising) on Samhain.