r is for reality: a statement of being

My spirituality is my reality.

This is not a phase, or an act of rebellion.

This is not a game or something I chose to profess belief in for the sake of politics.

This is not a hobby I practice in my spare time.

This is integral to my thoughts, behaviors, and choices, every moment, every day.

My worldview is what it is, not because I liked this view best, but because this is the reality I perceive, whether I like it or not.

~

I'm tired of hearing people tell others that their reality isn't real. It's not just pagans, though I addressed the above statement to the disparagement many pagans hear when their spiritual path becomes known. I doubt there's a box we put each other in that isn't questioned. Any identifier is fair game; I've heard everything from the spiritual to the mundane, from the sexual to the political, and even medical.

These are all actual examples:
(Except the italicized parts. Those happened in my head. 
Well, some of them were out loud, but not all of them.)

"You're not really depressed. You look fine to me."
(Oh really? Who died and made you my psychiatrist?)

[To a transman friend of mine] "What's your real name?"
(*Masculine name* IS his real name; why does his  birth name matter to you? When women in the US get married and take their husband's last name, is their new name fake? It's not their birth name, after all... oh, but you don't like that analogy.)

"Oh you're an artist? That's cool. Are you thinking about getting a real job someday?"
(...No, I prefer my soul intact, thanks.)

"Are you still in that gay phase?"
(Are you still in that ignorant phase?)

"You don't look like a real lesbian."
(Sorry, I guess I forgot to wear my label today, asshole.)

"He's not a real black man."
(Um, what's a fake black man look like? 
I promise you, he does NOT look like a Ken doll under those jeans.)




All of the above piss me off. Perhaps that was obvious?
But to keep things on topic, I'll stick to this one for today:

"Did you become a witch to piss of your parents like the rest of those goth kids? Haven't you outgrown that rebellion phase yet?"

Yeah, someone actually said that to me. It was a long time ago, but I still hear those familiar strains spoken around me, though not usually to me anymore (I find myself less inclined to hang around assholes long enough for them to speak). Haven't we had enough yet? So what if my reality doesn't match yours? Are you so miserable in your world that you require my company?

Well fuck you, I'm not drinking your kool-aid.

~

It seems appropriate to repost this:



I'm a huge fan/supporter of this cause; it's a reality I'm willing to try to share.

(Link on my side bar, and in the original post.)

~

And just for fun:

That made me laugh.

o is for ... observing the divine

I see what you did there.

Or, namaste.

~

The first time I ever tried explaining to someone that I felt all people had divinity within them, he broke up with me. It was the summer between high school and college, and I thought I might love him.

~

These days, I recognize myself as something of an animist, not quite a pantheist - I believe we all have the divine within us, which people commonly refer to as souls or spirits, but there are also other divine energies, which are both separate and connected. We are of the same stuff, and entwined, but our directions, our personalities, our essences, vary. And by 'we' I mean all things.

~

I like to sit on my front porch and watch the world go by. It's a good spot for it. There's a regular troop of people with dogs walking by, a car or three crawling up the hill every five to fifteen minutes, occasional visits from the neighbors' cats or stray dogs, and the weather's almost perpetually pleasant. It feels connected, but not rushed. It's soothing. It's my namaste to the world.

n is for... needs

"N" is for ... Necessity. Nincompoops. Normalcy. Need.

 This is what happens when I just start writing. Nincompoop is fun to say. Ninnnnnn Commmmmm Poo-Pah.

But I get bored with it easily. And now I'm done.

I don't feel much like writing today. I don't feel much like being home today. I feel like taking a walk. A hike, even. I want to go somewhere. I want to break free from life, from the daily shit. I want to do something interesting. I don't want to be here, fighting with my child to try to finish their schoolwork. I want to leave.

(I did leave. I went for a walk. It cleared my head. I needed that, clearly.)

~

I've been doing a lot of thinking about my home, and what that means to me. I hate to use this as a literary crutch, but I'm tellin ya, if you know how Virgos stereotypically feel about their homes, then you know how I feel. I fall directly into that category. In case you don't: I'm a very earth-bound critter, and my home is my cave. I'm in the process of figuring out what I need to be happiest with my cave. Right now it's a bit messy, and it's driving me absolutely-up-a-fucking-wall. Tomorrow, I hope I'll be able to spend some more time on making it right.

Since I got back from Rwanda, I've had a lot of trouble feeling 'at home' in my home. It's not just the house guests, it's also the rearranging my mother did while she was house-and-child-sitting for me, and the general chaos of a house insufficiently tended for the past three weeks. My house wasn't even quite the way I wanted it when I left. There were things to be done that I hadn't been able to get to, either due to time or money. Now I'm back, trying to settle in, and I'm seeking normalcy in my home, without knowing what that will look like when I find it.

What do I need?

"Space and light and order. Those are the things that men need just as much as they need bread or a place to sleep." -Le Corbusier (1887-1965)

I'm finding that to be true.
It's not enough that my house shelters me and has a functional refrigerator - though I'm grateful that I have such amenities. Like a good believer in Maslow, I'm now seeking something more. And like any other zoo animal, I need an enriched environment. It makes me happier and more active, each of which feed an upward spiral.

A big part of what I'm focusing on right now is how to set up my alter space. I need some sort of space for rituals. Right now, I don't have that. My alter 'stuff' is all hanging out, neatly arranged, on top of my dresser - not a good spot for it. I don't use it there. It's more of a safe storage space until I find a better solution.

I also need a painting space, and an art-stuff-storage space. And a place to sit down and read. (Maybe I just need a bigger house.)

~

So, what are the necessary components for my worship space?

I need:
- to be able to sit comfortably in front of my alter
- an alter space that won't be disturbed, or a portable alter
- quiet, but with music available when I need it
- a calm feeling


... That's a start. Time to get to work.

favorite monument

I have to do a presentation about my favorite monument, for my history class, which is due tomorrow afternoon.

I don't have a favorite monument.

So, that's a challenge.

I'm thinking of maybe doing the Roselyn Chapel. I'm not into the Dan Brown books or anything, but the mystery of that place - whatever your theory - has drawn people to learn more about their world. And isn't that the ultimate purpose of a monument?

Or, if I don't feel like doing a ton of research, I could talk about Dian Fossey's grave. I even have pictures of that one.

Or maybe I'll talk about Stonewall, just to stir some minds a bit.

I think I'll sleep on it, then throw something together in the morning.

co-habitation

Written Friday, 24 August 2012:

Lately, my home hasn't felt like my home. I have loved ones staying here because... well, I guess it's just more convenient. I don't mind the company, either. In fact, I need the company. Except that my house is starting to feel like it's not my own. And I don't know what to do about that. I need to establish boundaries, but I'm not sure where to draw those lines.

And just to be clear, my loved ones have not over stayed their welcome. I'm just having trouble sorting out my own needs in my head. I know my needs will be respected, once I've voiced them. 

I wonder if I will always feel like I need a roommate. I wonder if I'm substituting that kind of intimate/non-intimate interaction for something else... something less conflicted. There aren't many people I'm actively interested in living with. In fact, I can't think of anybody, besides Archer. And for now, I actually want  to live alone. (Incidently, so does he, which works out nicely for us.) I do want my house to not change when I'm not looking. I want to not be required to inform other people of how I want things done. I want to just do them myself.

But I also want company. It's so fucking lonely living alone. Having other people around keeps me level. Not because it makes me feel level - it doesn't - but because it forces me to act like I'm ok, like nothing bothers me, which keeps me closer to feeling ok, at least for a little while.

I wrote this  in something I'm not going to post in entirety: 15 Aug 2012: Sometimes I wonder if I can handle living the rest of my life alone, or with only a roommate. I think I will need a roommate, always. I wonder if I'll always be able to find one. Will I be happy never living with Archer? Is cohabitation necessary? It was always expected, in the standard-issue model of relationships, but obviously we're not the standard relationship. So now I'm left wondering, do I need it? I think I do. I'm afraid that I do, becuase I know I'll never get it. But maybe I can substitute a roommate, so I don't feel so alone. Maybe I'll be sixty years old, still sleeping with my stuffed animals. Maybe I'll have to let my dogs sleep next to me, again. Maybe I'll always be a little bit lonely. (Maybe this is the sacrifice our relationship requires of me. He has certainly made plenty, for me.)

I suppose that makes it sound like co-habitation is something I want, like right now. It isn't. This is prophetic speculation. Right now, I want my space to be my own. I want to own my space.

But someday...

I don't know how long I can be alone. I also don't know how to live happily with roommates.

I know that I will always have pets. Or at least a pet. My life is better with one, and there are too many homeless pets for me to not help at least one. They ward off the loneliness, and maybe, in this house, that will be enough. It wasn't enough, in my old house, but that's at least because of my history in that house - that's where I moved when I got laid off and couldn't feed my child, where husband #2 left me, and it was secluded from the world, on a desolate stretch of desert grassland. Nothing in the world could have made that place ok. [That place had an energy that damaged me, in addition I think, to the lingering energy of the events there. My own events, and historical events. That house was located in a place called Miracle Valley. If you're curious, google the shootout at Miracle Valley, in Cochise county, Arizona. I didn't find out about that until after I moved there.]

So now, with this uncertainty, I'm trying to decide how much company I need, and whose company. What is sufficient? What is necessary? And for how long? Do I need human company in my home, or is the company of my pets enough?

For a while there when I needed my dogs' company, I would just sleep on my couch. They could curl up around me, there. Now someone else is sleeping on my couch, and has been since I got back from Rwanda. I don't remember when that change happened. I think it was while I was gone. I don't think anybody ever asked me. It would be ok, really... I think. Or maybe that's just the conciliatory Bones, trying to make everyone happy. Maybe it's not what I really feel. Maybe if they did ask, I would have said it's fine, just to avoid conflict. Maybe I depend too much on other people to recognize the boundaries of a conscientious society.

Where should  my boundaries be?
I really don't know.

And another thing... I find myself leaving my house less, because I have people here. Which makes sense, right? You don't leave your house when you have guests. But when the guests don't leave, when they transition into de facto roommates, it's externally-enforced hermitage. Maybe if I didn't have guests, I would get out more. Maybe that would supplement the company of my pets, negating the need for roommates.

Does this all sound as confused as I feel?

"S'ok Mama, I luvs you." -Bellissima

~

Written today, 26 August 2012: I'll figure this out. I got some input from Archer, who's better at identifying boundaries and foreseeing potential problem areas than I am. My house guests and I are going to establish boundaries together, and our situation is changing. Their stays here are becoming shorter and more clearly articulated, because of some other (more complicated) things going on in their lives. They left tonight. They'll be back in five weeks, to stay with me for one week, before they go again. Which is cool. And I'm working out what boundaries I require... I'm feeling optimistic. Tomorrow, I'm going to spend some time organizing my house. I'll probably be spending a lot of time on that this week. I need to get it back to being 'me.' I need to nest. Then I can have house guests here again.

save tonight

There was a time when this song brought tears to my eyes.

It seemed to epitomize everyone's struggle to find love, knowing it wouldn't last if we did find it. I felt we were all trapped in this tragic cycle of searching and loss, or settling for less than we sought, and it just seemed so hopeless, so painful, and so unnecessary - a product of human fears and mistrust which never allowed for purity in love. Yet, there is a levity in the song, and it speaks to the happiness found in seizing those moments we can, when we do have love, and live fully in those moments despite knowing they are fleeting. Or maybe because  we know they are fleeting.

I don't know what Eagle Eye Cherry intended for that song to say, but that's what I felt, when I heard it.

I do know that I've finally broken the cycle. 

The song means something different to me, now. I still hear the first story I heard, but there's an added thread. Save tonight, because even once we've found that love we sought, life is still unpredictable, and we never know when tragedy might strike. Somehow, that seems less inevitable than the severance of love by human foibles. 

in Rwanda: 29 July 2012, Bones sees bones

Journal 29 July 2012

Today was a whole lot of awesome, followed by a whole lot of work.

This morning we got to see the gorilla skeleton project in action. Shannon McFarland, a primary researcher on that project, gave us a presentation on what and how they’re doing, then we got to see the lab and the bones, and meet some of the other researchers. Pictures were taken. It was awesome. Then Chelsea and I (and the other teams) spent the rest of the day trying to perfect our own presentations. In fact, this journal is going to be quite short, because Chelsea and I still have presentation work to do. Tomorrow is the big day!

Shannon McFarland, showing us an unusually shaped gorilla skull:

Puck, may she rest in peace: