At the end of desire

Stirring

2010-03-10T22:30:00.002-05:00

Sap's running. Can you feel it? My pagan heart thrums with the turning of the wheel.

My baby turned 1. I turned 40. Life is very sweet and not at all what I expected. But I'm devoted. To the whole thing, religiously. That is my thealogy.

A Ritual to Read to Each Other

2010-02-01T19:28:00.001-05:00

If you don't know the kind of person I am

And I don't know the kind of person you are

A pattern that others made may prevail in the world

And following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,

a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break

sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood

storming out to play through the broken dyke.

And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail,

but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,

I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty

to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,

a remote important region in all who talk:

though we could fool each other, we should consider--

lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake,

or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;

the signals we give--yes or no, or maybe--

should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.

~ William Stafford

Fifth annual cyberspace poetry slam for Brigid

2010-01-31T19:58:00.001-05:00

A lovely tradition, now in its fifth year:

WHAT: A Bloggers (Silent) Poetry Reading

WHEN: Anytime February 2, 2010

WHERE: Your blog

WHY: To celebrate the Feast of Brigid, aka Groundhog Day

HOW: Select a poem you like - by a favorite poet or one of your own - to
post February 2nd.

Participate and help to weave the web.

Maternal Thinking

2010-01-06T23:15:00.003-05:00

For some mothers, giving birth to and living with children inspires something akin to a religious respect for nature. (Sara Ruddick)

Despite many years working on a Ph.D. in ethics and feminism, I never read Sara Ruddick's oft-cited, oft-criticized (for being "essentialist") book Maternal Thinking: Towards a Politics of Peace. I probably read some excerpts along the way and joined in the criticisms, fancying myself a radical feminist uninterested in motherhood.

But this week I started reading the book as part of my resolution to read some whole books this year, the first year of motherhood being singularly ill-suited to reading books. My copy of Maternal Thinking is the British paperback with its ugly jacket art; I probably picked it up for a few dollars at the library book sale because I thought a feminist philosopher ought to own a copy, even if she never read it. I found it again over New Years because it rested on a bookshelf in my son's play space, behind some building blocks.

It is a wonderful book. Carefully argued--with all the usual criticisms addressed in the first chapters, ye lazy critics--impassioned, engaged, emotionally astute, blindingly smart, it has me engrossed. The notes to chapter four cite Iris Murdoch, Adrienne Rich, and Virginia Woolf, who might as well be the troika who rule my thinking life, as well as Spinoza, that old heretic.

Highly recommended.

Pisces 11 and 12

2010-01-03T17:29:00.004-05:00

One of my most important spiritual teachers is an astrologer by trade, and I'm erstwhile her astrology student. I used to think astrology was a bunch of nonsense and hokum. But then I met my teacher, Linda, and I couldn't deny the genius expressed in her understanding of this complicated art. I still have only the smallest idea of what's going on or what she's talking about, but Linda's way of doing astrology makes each person the hero of her own life and each life replete with meaning.

I have come to understand myself as an initiate because of two symbols that appear in my natal astrological chart (the snapshot of the sky taken at the minute of my birth from the perspective of my location on earth). First, my sun is at Pisces 11 (in the 11th house). The Sabian symbol for Pisces 11 is: A group of serious eyed, earnest faced men are seeking illumination and are conducted into a massive sanctuary. Second, my north node is conjunct my sun, at Pisces 12, the symbol for which is: A convocation of the Lodge of Initiates has bought the earth's glorious souls in spirit to examine the candidates.

The sun represents the meaning of one's life. The north node represents where one is headed in this lifetime. That my sun and north node are conjunct means that the meaning of my life and where I'm headed in life (my north star, if you will) are in sync. To me, both of these symbols are deeply spiritual. They make sense to me as someone who has sought meaning and the Divine her whole life.

While an initiate has mastered a body of knowledge in order to be initiated, she is also very much at the beginning of something: she us up for examination, she is being ushered into a sanctuary. At first this idea of being a beginner, not a master, chafed my ego: "Well crap, in this lifetime I only ever get to be a newbie?"

But I assume the mantle of initiate with reverence anyway, and I remind myself of the archetypal importance of the beginner (for example, the Fool in the tarot). My life snaps into narrative focus--it makes sense--when I remember myself as an initiate, when I narrate my life as a story of initiations. The story of undergoing an initiation is a way to make sense of and revere difficult times, because initiation isn't easy. Inanna had to give up her very life, her flesh and bones. The old saying that in childbirth a woman descends to the underworld to retrieve the soul of her child isn't an unfair description of my experience in labor.

As for my nom de blog, I chose it before I understood anything about myself as an initiate. But now I think it makes lovely, prescient sense.

The initiate

2010-01-01T23:27:00.004-05:00

I feel tremendously blessed.

Last year during the full moon in Cancer, I gave birth. Last night saw the return of that full moon (though my son's solar birthday is still nine days away). These past twelve lunar cycles have been a year-long intensive, an initiation, a breathtaking journey down into myself--a self who is now two, in that strange human way that flesh begets flesh and produces another who is of oneself but not oneself. From breastfeeding, and sharing attachment parenting with my partner, has emerged the most intimate relationship of my life, we three. Being a mother challenges me in ways I never anticipated and brings me into bliss.

One of the most striking things, to me, about motherhood is how it's brought my values into sharp focus. I'm someone who cares about value--moral, aesthetic, etc.--a lot. Becoming a mother, with the relentless demands on my energy and attention, has burned away a lot of bullshit. Here is what matters to me: family, spirituality, creativity. I can flesh that out again--my spirituality encompasses my devotion to the earth, for example--but those are the clean bones.

So I return to this space, where for many years I've written about spirituality, my winding, earth-based path. My passion is still here. If you're reading--and especially if you've been reading for years--I'm grateful.

All's well

2009-10-16T22:42:00.002-04:00

All is well. I've just been busy raising a baby these last several months. Very challenging. Sheer bliss.

Pagan values: pleasure and beauty

2009-06-18T21:38:00.003-04:00

Let My worship be in the heart that rejoices, for behold, all acts of love and pleasure are My rituals. Let there be beauty....

(The Charge of the Goddess)

To be incarnate in a human body is to know exquisite pleasure. I imagine that when souls choose to incarnate they do so largely because they want to put on a body and feel the lusciousness of being human: of flesh upon flesh, of swimming in cool water on a hot summer's day, of eating chocolate and strawberries, of dancing and yoga, of stroking an animal's soft fur, of making and witnessing art, of warming in front of a fire, of mud baths and hot springs, of smelling incense and flowers, of nibbling a baby's fat thigh.

For we Pagani, all glory is in embodiment. We don't honor asceticism, chastity, or restraint. There is no reason to deny the pleasures of the flesh. All mutually consensual and pleasurable sex is holy. All variations on the human form are lovely and beloved. Our sacraments include taking care of oneself and one's body, of each other's body, of animals, children, and the land. We seek the pleasure in eating and shitting, in crying and bleeding, in sex and dancing, sleeping, stretching, breathing.

To make beauty is a holy thing: to plant a flower, prepare an altar, pick up litter, carve a toy, sweep a stoop, cook a meal, or paint a picture. We practice bearing witness to the beauty in others. If I could do nothing more than reflect back to my son the beauty that shines in his face and his whole being, then I have been a good mother.

It's not necessarily easy. I complain sometimes. I have a habit of negative judgment. I let ideas about what's wrong, and my self-judgment, cloud my vision of what's true and right and beautiful and holy. I sometimes deny my body what it needs. I worry about the weeds in the garden, the dust in the house, the shape of my body, the uncertainty of my path in life. I tell myself that I don't have time to enjoy myself, or that I don't deserve to, or that I should be doing something different from whatever it is I'm doing. We must be vigilant against self-denial and self-abnegation.

The call is always to open to what is, to make a small patch of earth beautiful and lively, to enjoy the pleasures given to me every day, to love my life and make it holy and delicious and good. To turn toward myself. To embrace the mystery and mess. And to give thanks for the good green earth, all-sustaining and filled with delights. Blessed be.

Pagan values: immanence

2009-06-17T17:18:00.001-04:00

Deborah Lipp has written recently about immanence, so as a lazy blogger let me point you first to her post. Do come back.

Deborah says that the immanence of deity--which she defines as gods' being inside us--means that the source of value and goodness is also within us. Such a view rejects an authoritarian, "handed down from on high" view of morality in favor of something more self-directed, more democratic. I define immanence more broadly than Deborah does, though I don't disagree with her.

I take the transcendence of deity to mean that god is somewhere outside of nature or everyday reality: above, beyond, distant from us. If god is "out there," even if he can intervene "in here," then "out there" is more divine, better, more desirable. It's heaven. If god is transcendent, then we are necessarily at least somewhat alienated from god, because there is a place he occupies that we don't. (Hence the need for mortal intercessories in Christianity: saints, Mary, or Jesus--someone who can get the message to the big guy, who can mediate between heaven and earth).

The immanence of deity means that there is no "out there"; there is only "right here." The Divine is present on earth and in us. She is present in mountains, springs, trees, compost piles, cities and slums, my pit bull, you, and me. Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote that "earth's crammed with heaven." More prosaically, I think of the world's being infused with divinity.

People either believe in the immanence of deity because they experience the world that way (Starhawk famously compares the question "do you believe in the Goddess?" to "do you believe in that rock?"--belief really isn't at issue), or they experience the world as suffused with god because they believe it is (the background belief thus affects the quality of experience). I can't tell which it is for me; the mystic favors for former explanation, and the skeptic favors the latter.

Why does it matter whether deity is immanent? On a practical level, the way I treat the beings and things around me is affected. I'm much more likely to be patient with my dog, my child, myself, if I remember that we all partake of the Divine. Other choices I make that reflect my belief in the Goddess's immanence are to eat food that's organically or humanely raised, to pick up trash when I'm hiking, not to use chemicals when I garden or clean my house. It's not that I think, "god is there, I should be careful." Rather, I experience the things in my life as holy, and from that experience I strive to make choices that honor the holiness of all beings.

Thus a belief in immanence is closely connected, for me, to a belief in the sanctity of the earth. The earth is all we get. There is no heaven, no afterlife in another place untained by fallen humanity. We don't get to escape the earth. We don't get to use it up and then leave. If we eschew or deny what's real, we don't get to transcend the consequences of our actions. God Herself is in the whole thing. She is the shadow as well as the light. And She is as close as the beating of your heart.

Blessed be.

Pagan values: the sanctity of the earth

2009-06-16T09:25:00.002-04:00

If you had to find one value that the majority of Pagans would identify as a Pagan value, the sanctity of the earth might be it. For many Pagans, this value is central to our spirituality.

Some say that the earth is the Goddess and don't mean that metaphorically (some do). Many subscribe to something like the Gaia hypothesis, which posits that the earth itself not only houses living beings but is a living being itself. Many say that we find the gods in nature. Pagans tend to be animists, believing that even things like trees, rocks, and mountains have a kind of soul, spirit or consciousness. Many if not most contemporary Pagans believe that the earth is holy and has instrinsic value.

In keeping with this value, Pagans strive to live in right relationship with the earth and her creatures. We invoke the ideas of balance and right relationship and reject models of dominance. We may practice permaculture, buy organic foods, garden organically, strive to live sustainably, belong to conservationist groups and land trusts, advocate rights or protections for animals, or shelter and rescue domestic animals. Most of the Pagans I know are involved in one or more of these practical, earth-honoring activities.

Our rituals often take place out of doors, and even when they take place indoors, we often invoke and honor nature, the earth, or earth spirits and guardians. Many Pagans honor the old agricultural cycles and the phases of the moon. We practice grounding ourselves and our energy, and we value the particular places where we live. One Witch I know says he can't sleep well if he doesn't know the land.

Some conservative Christians make the disingenuous mistake that all environmentalists are Pagans. Of course that isn't true; one can value nature, animals, trees, habitat, and the wild without practicing Paganism. But Pagan religions are the only ones I know that make concern for the earth a central spiritual value.

Surely the image of earth as Mother arose in cultures where there was less separation from the land than in ours, and where breastfeeding children was the norm. The way that a human mother gives of herself for her child, providing nourishment and care, fulfilling the needs of early life, mut have struck our ancestors as analogous to the way the earth provides us with water, food, medicine, shelter.

In right relationship, we love the One who sustains us, as She sustains us with her love. Blessed be.

So what makes those Pagan values?

2009-06-15T11:02:00.004-04:00

I think my five favorite Pagan values are in fact Pagan, even if not every Pagan holds them, and even if non-Pagans hold (some of) them. Why? Because they're values that arise from (many kinds of) contemporary Pagan spiritual practice. And while they're not uniquely Pagan values, strictly speaking, they are values that other religions I know of don't hold as spiritual values. So these values are intrinsic to the way I practice my religion and to my spiritual life, but they're not intrinsic, as far as I know, to other religions or spiritual practices.

That's my rough-and-ready definition of what makes something a Pagan value.

Pagan values, a brief introduction

2009-06-14T22:25:00.003-04:00

June 2009 is International Pagan Values Blogging Month. Well, twist my arm and hold the baby (or, er, vice versa). My undergraduate and graduate training were in philosophy with specializations in ethics and feminism. Though I'm a recovering academic, I still care deeply about value and can wax pedantic with the best of them. I'll try to avoid that in a series of short posts (you can't hold the baby for that long) about my favorite Pagan values, ethical and non-. I'm optimistic about this being a series because Adonis is taking the week of from work, so I'll be holding the baby less than all the time.

So to begin, a list of my favorite Pagan values:

1. sanctity of the earth
2. immanence of the divine
3. pleasure and beauty
4. (re)enchantment
5. healing

Available: freelance Pagan priestess

2009-06-03T21:19:00.003-04:00

Women are more likely than men to be religious. When women belong to a particular culture, tradition, or faith, they're more likely to be conservative about that culture, tradition, or faith (or so I think I've read; I remember it surprised me). Women--usually mothers--often play the role of cultural conservator: I think of mothers lighting shabbas candles; mothers cooking big holiday meals, sending cards, buying gifts, remembering birthdays; grandmothers attending Mass every day. Women don't often hold positions of power in religious hierarchy (though that started to change with the second wave of feminism), but they most often do the day-to-day religious work in a culture.

In Wicca, of course, especially those strains of Wicca influenced by feminism, women hold spiritual authority. (This is something of a truism, but my own experience suggests a pretty firm divide between feminist-inflected Wicca and other, more traditionally male-centered Wicca; I don't think the public face of Wicca is as feminist or female-friendly as one might expect from a Goddess-centered spirituality.) Also, since Paganisms are relatively new, historically, and often improvisational and ad hoc, and since they seem to attract seekers with anarchist or countercultural sympathies, many Pagans don't set much store by tradition. (Obviously there are exceptions, but even traditionalist Pagans don't have that many years of tradition to uphold; and Reconstructionists are, you know, reconstructing, which involves much faithfully making things up.)

I think a lot about what it means, as a woman and now a mother, to serve the Goddess, and what it means to be called to a kind of clergy-like service in a faith that has no clergy (and that some would argue should have no clergy; please forgive a new mother for not looking up all the links; I think Kerr Cuhulain made an argument to that effect recently). I think about how I want to practice my faith now that I have a child. Can I still slack off on some of the sabbats? (Pagan true confession: I never manage much for Beltane.) How will I get my child a spiritual education? (Join the UU church? Develop a curriculum for Pagan SunDay School, as one non-Pagan friend suggested I do?) Is spiritual community even more important now, and is a specifically Wiccan/Pagan/earthwise community important? How do I rustle up one of those?

In short, what does it mean to be a religious conservator and innovator within my family?

What does it mean to be a freelance priestess in my wider community? For we Pagani a sense of place--of the very earth under our feet--is important, but there aren't a whole lot of Pagans in my place. I image playing a role something like a public monastic; I imagine tending a temple and playing a visible role in a wider community. I'm a solid celebrant, though I usually have to create my own occasions and invite people to celebrate with me. But I imagine that my public role might be more counselor and healer. I'm also an excellent teacher--really, it's one of the things I do best, though I've been several years without a classroom or students.

In short, I have vision, skills, training, and interest, but I don't know how or what to manifest.

I remain open to Her call. The changes in my life in the past year alone have been tremendous. I'm incredibly blessed. I just wonder if I need to be taking more assertive action. I don't want to miss out. Yet the message I get so often is, be patient and wait.

So I turn these ideas over in my mind, I listen, and I wait.

Thoughts on healing: caring and bearing witness

2009-03-15T22:00:00.002-04:00

It could be a tenet of Wicca (but it's not, since Wicca tends toward tenetlessness) that Witches Heal. Though we often speak as though healing is something we do for another person, as in a doctor healing her patient, in fact we can only heal ourselves. I can care for another person and provide some conditions for healing, but only he heals himself. Similarly, and of concern to many Pagans, we cannot heal the earth; but we can care for the earth and provide conditions under which it will thrive and heal itself.

One of the most important things we can do as healers is to bear witness: to hold a non-judgmental but discerning space for the person or being who is healing. We need to be able to discern what would help them (an action, a holding, a medicine, a clean needle, a kind word, a pointed observation, a touch), but we cannot sit in judgment, for judgment limits and constrains where healing needs room for natural expansion and contraction. Bearing witness means being able to see things as they are, not as we wish they would be, and to "hold space" compassionately for whatever arises. Much of the work of a healer lies in being present to another, not buffeted by or frightened by their emotions, not sucked in, not closed down, not colluding, not withholding. Being with. And in that being, seeing what else might be needed.

4 years of desire

2009-03-14T22:09:00.003-04:00

Just a quick note to celebrate that I've been keeping this blog for four years. So much has changed in my life, but writing about that will have to wait. Happy blogiversary to me!

Witches heal

2009-03-02T11:40:00.003-05:00

I found the following on this week's page in We'Moon '09. I've been thinking about this a lot over the last couple years; I think she's exactly right.

I began thinking about ancestral memory and what if? What if the wounds I carry are not solely from my lifetime, but also from my mother's, my father's, and grandparents' passed genetically and psychically? What if the multiple abuses I have processed in therapy are from ancestral wounds as well as current, and what if the connections extend beyond even ancestral lineage to some kind of interspecies link?

I feel lighter when I entertain these thoughts and constantly renew my commitment to my path of healing, not only for my family and myself but also for all beings. I am beginning to see that the web of life weaves connections between all of time, space and place. And how each small healing benefits the whole cosmos.

(Janice Young)

Now on twitter

2009-03-02T11:37:00.002-05:00

I started tweeting last week and am having lots of fun spouting random thoughts onto the web (like blogging, but more pithy). If you're a regular reader and would like to follow, drop me an email and I'll tell you how to find me.

A sense of wonder so indestructible

2009-03-01T13:15:00.003-05:00

Happy birthday to me! I'm 39 today and thrilled to be incarnated. Still, I called my mother this morning and apologized for that whole labor thing.

A quotation I want to remember for Lucian's Wiccaning/baby blessing ceremony:

"If I had influence over the good fairy who is supposed to preside over the christening of all children I should ask that her gift to each child in the world be a sense of wonder so indestructible that it would last throughout life." (Rachel Carson)

Ahisma

2009-02-28T23:41:00.001-05:00

This afternoon I was eating a piece of cake from a take-out container when Gryphon, my dog, who loves chocolate, ventured a lick at some frosting on the lid. I said his name in a scolding way and, without thinking, lifted the magazine I was holding in my hand in a gesture of playful admonishment, as if I were going to bop him on the muzzle (something I would never do, even in a playful way). This is a 70-pound dog who wrestles on the floor with Adonis, but something in my gesture and-- yes--the energy of my intent caused him to cower as if he'd been struck. His posture was as automatic as my raised hand had been.

I felt awful. The thought came to me immediately, "he HAS been hit." In his life before us, I mean. Lugh, whom we raised from puppyhood, wouldn't have even understood the gesture. But Gryphon knew it. I apologized to him and promised I would never hurt him. I hope he understood me.

Lugh was the most joyful being I've ever known. People responded to him because he embodied pure joy. Gryphon is sometimes happy, I think, and often content, but I don't know that I've ever seen him express joy. Surely he had a difficult early life where he was at best neglected. He is an anxious dog.

I want to give him a good life and to help him, as best I can, to suffer less from anxiety. But I also have to accept him for who he is. I practice seeing his divine nature, his Buddha nature, if you will, and I also practice seeing him clearly for who he is as an animal.

I practice acceptance of my dog. He is who he is. I don't need him to be joyful. Or, if I do, that's my need, twisted and unfairly projected onto him.

Similarly, I practice acceptance of my son: easy in some ways, since infants are such shining beings, but difficult, too, for example when he's crying and I can't find a way to comfort him, or he's waking every two hours in the night to nurse for 45 minutes. But he doesn't need to be other than who he is, either in his divine nature or his baby nature (or his individual nature).

But the hardest practice, I find, is to feel acceptance for myself. To believe, truly, that there is nothing about me that needs to change. To accept who I am, right now, in this moment. To approach myself with gentleness instead of force. That is my challenge, and it's a worthy one, I believe, because my child will learn how to treat himself by watching how I treat myself.

Passing through the gates

2009-02-26T21:37:00.005-05:00

I'm loving being a parent. The sight, smell, and sounds of my lovely boy fill me with pure joy and happiness. That's true, though it's also true that the first weeks of parenting are singularly challenging. He'll be seven weeks old on Saturday.

Labor was a harrowing rite of passage. "Initiation" seems like such a lilting, romantic idea, till you go through one. Hurts like hell.

When I began this blog nearly four years ago, I chose "Inanna" as a nom de blog because she seemed like an ancient Mama Goddess who didn't get a lot of air time (what did I know?). Also, I loved Talia Took's depiction of Innana in her aspect as a goddess of sexual love and fertility. Later, I felt a bit sheepish about my choice: "queen of heaven and earth" was meant as an ironic descriptor for little ol' me.

However, what you might know about Inanna is that her descent into the underworld is a paradigmatic rite of passage. Her initation involved giving up every claim to identity she had and all her worldly goods, abasing herself in front of her sister/shadow, the queen of the underworld, and having her corpse hung on a meat hook in hell. We might call it the mother of all initations.

Shortly after beginning this blog, I began studying astrology, and I learned that the Sabian symbol for my sun at Pisces 11 is "a group of serious-eyed, earnest-faced men are seeking illumination and are conducted into a massive sanctuary." The symbol for my conjunct north node, at Pisces 12, is "a convocation of the Lodge of Initiates has brought the earth's glorious souls in spirit to examine candidates." In other words, initiation is my raison d'etre, in this lifetime at least.

And so after a series of initations over these last several years, one fast upon the heels of another--mystery school initation, ordination, traveling to Turkey, ending my academic career, the illnesses that pointed the way out of academe, adopting my beloved dog Lugh, Lugh's death--I decided to become a mother, Goddess willing.

Labor was a dark door that I approached unwillingly but also with singular determination. I was wary and afraid, but I also believed in its necessity, its sacredness. There were times during my labor with Lucian when I thought, "this is the worst day of my life"--a thought I don't think I've had on any other day. The pain was unlike anything I've ever experienced, and the thought floated through my mind that childbirth is more physically challenging than war. ("Take that, you big, macho, patriarchal, death-fetishizing assholes," was the other part of that thought.)

I worked in a huge cauldron of warm water at home, surrounded by midwives, and I had the dream that I was reliving my own birth, my mother's labor. I screamed often, and worried the dog, though Adonis reports that my focus was inward and away. There was an abrupt break in the labor at transition; the baby's heartrate dropped and didn't recover, and my midwife made a quick decision to move us to the hospital, where Lucian was born four hours later, after I pushed him out myself under conditions that mostly felt hostile. But I was held by a large community saying prayers, meditating, visualizing, and making magic. The magic worked; more on that later.

At the end of labor, with a roar--his, mine, that of the people in the room--my sweet baby entered this life. Someone placed him on my chest. Adonis cried. And--forgive the cliche--I knew that that day was also the best day of my life.

Earth my body, water my blood

2009-02-19T23:22:00.001-05:00

So go the words to a popular Wiccan chant. ("Earth my body, water my blood, air my breath, and fire my spirit." Alternatively, "earth Her body..." etc.)

I'm sure I'm not the first breastfeeding woman to make this observation: whoever crafted Jesus's words to his followers at the Last Supper surely had a breastfeeding woman in mind (or was herself a breastfeeding woman?).

"Take and eat. This is my body given for you. Take and drink. This is my blood shed for you."

These words are biblical and appear as part of the liturgy for holy communion recited in Catholic and Protestant churches.

[In Chinese medicine, breast milk and blood are considered the same substance. Thus the breastfeeding woman to stay in good health should build her blood (e.g. by eating iron-rich foods and taking herbs like astragalus) since she generates and loses extra "blood" each day.]

We Goddess-folk can get a little itchy if we think our experiences are being appropriated by patriarchal religion. It's difficult not to wonder why Christianity had to assign a central ability and task in the lives of women to their Main Guy and elevate it to the central and supreme sacrifice of the faith. Jesus gets mad props for making this sacrifice; his willingness and generosity are signs of his divinity.

But women are the ones who literally give of our body and blood so others might live. And that gift is one of life begetting life, not one of death begetting life. Also, the earth is conceived of as a Mother largely because She provides food and water for her creatures. She provides all the nourishment we need. And, in right relationship with us, She regenerates and can continue to feed us. No "ultimate sacrifice" is necessary.

Women's work - and dear Goddess can I now testify to breastfeeding's being work! - goes unnoticed and unheeded. It's mostly taken for granted. But attribute these qualities to some guy and call him the Messiah, and all of a sudden it's a big deal.

Frackin' patriarchy.

Week 6

2009-02-18T22:52:00.001-05:00

I can't believe that this being of light has been entrusted to me. Every day is a delight, a wonderful gift. I feel like my raison d'être is to love.

Love is the Source

2009-02-10T22:12:00.004-05:00

Adonis said he didn't understand what the heck I was talking about when I said that "the energy of joy and pure love that they [babies] bring is the energy that grounds Being--the energy that some of us call, in convenient shorthand, Goddess." That's what I get for blogging while sleep-deprived, because usually he knows what I'm talking about.

Terri says it differently here: "Love is the Ground of All Being, the Zero Point of the Universe whence all matter and spirit is bound." To use Plotinus's image, Love is the One overflowing, self-generating.

Carol Christ writes about attending her mother's death that she (the daughter) experienced the overwhelming presence of Love, and that for her that was a tangible, indubitable experience of Goddess's presence.

It's just a belief. A tenet of faith. In the beginning, there was Love. At the end, there will be Love. Love is the Source. Love is the Ground. If you believe this, you will experience the universe thus. Call it confirmation bias. Call it revelation. Call it faith. Regardless, it is a rich and joyous way to live. It is a good way to regard the earth and all her creatures.

When I gaze upon my baby's face; when a dog at the SPCA crawls into my lap; when a friend offers me compassion--then I feel the Source rise in me like sweet water from a spring. And my faith, which is so often a guttering candle, burns a little more steadily and brightly.

29ish days

2009-02-09T16:03:00.001-05:00

Today marks the end of Lucian's first lunar cycle. (Tomorrow is the one-month solar date.) Happy birthday, beloved one!

Emissaries

2009-02-04T23:15:00.001-05:00

Today my therapist described to me her belief that babies come to us with all this spiritual wisdom that they bring either from their own past lives or from wherever they've just been. The energy of joy and pure love that they bring is the energy that grounds Being--the energy that some of us call, in convenient shorthand, Goddess.

Not only my own relationship with Lucian, but the world's response to him, suggests to me that something like that theory is true. Never have I been surrounded by such goodwill and/or never have I been so open to receiving it.

Seeing things as they are

2009-02-04T23:02:00.001-05:00

"In refusing to acknowledge how things actually are in any moment, perhaps because we don't want them to be that way, and in attempting to compel a situation or a relationship to be the way we want it to be out of fear that otherwise we may not get our needs met, we are forgetting that most of the time we hardly know what our own way really is; we only think we do. And we forget that this dance [of reciprocity and interdependence between self and world] is one of extraordinary complexity as well as simplicity, and that new and interesting things happen when we do not collapse in the presence of our fears, and instead stop imposing and start living our truth, well beyond our limited ability to assert tight control over anything for very long.

"As individuals and as a species, we can no longer afford to ignore this fundamental characteristic of our reciprocity and interconnectednes, nor can we ignore how interesting new possibilities emerge out of our yearnings and our intentions when we are, each on our own way, actually true to them, however mysterious and opaque they may at times feel to us. Through our sciences, through our philosophies, our histories, and our spiritual traditions, we have come to see that our health and our well-being as individuals, our happiness, and actually even the continuity of the germ line, that life stream that we are only a momentary bubble in, that way in which we are the life-givers and world-builders for our future generations, depend on how we choose to live our own lives while we have them to live."

(Jon Kabat-Zinn, Coming to Our Senses)

Embodying the abundant universe

2009-02-03T18:00:00.005-05:00

(From the Gaian Tarot by Joanna Powell Colbert)

I believe as a tenet of faith that the universe--the Goddess, the Mother--provides what we need in abundance. Always.

This belief doesn't reside in my intellect, if you will, but in my gut. My brain easily generates myriad reasons why this belief is false; begin with the reality of poverty. But my belief, which relies on faith, isn't so much a proposition against which to marshal arguments. It is, rather, a way of understanding the world. It functions like a background assumption. (I'm well aware of problems with confirmation bias, but I'm not doing science here. Grant me poetic license.)

I think that whether or not this belief (or way of understanding the world) comes easily to you depends on the circumstances of your early life. That's not to say that we can't come to believe that the universe provides for our needs in abundance even if the circumstances of early life were meager in the relevant sense. The first step in coming to believe is realizing that we believe otherwise; for example, to realize that we're acting from an assumption of penury, that we believe fundamentally that life is hard, that we're its victims, that we're undeserving, that things never get better, that people are out to get us. Thus we uncover our operating assumptions. We work to accept that we have them (and acceptance is no small feat, though I give it short shrift here). And we begin to pay attention to all the hints we're given that assumptions of scarcity are false. When people make gratitude a practice, that's what they're doing: they're paying attention; they're counting their blessings.

(I've had a hard time with the idea of practicing gratitude because I have an old belief that I don't deserve my many blessings. Gratitude is, in my mind, and for biographical reasons, linked with feelings of guilt and undeservingness.)

Very early in one's life sojourn, one learns on a basic, physical, preverbal level that the universe provides for one's needs, or one learns that it doesn't. I think I'm lucky; I got the message, somehow, that my needs would be met. Maybe I carried that belief into this life with me. (My "soul card," in tarot, is the Empress. Both my rising sign and my Pluto carry the message, too.) Maybe my faith formed as the result of responsive early mothering. (Thanks, Mom!) Things--mostly thoughts--have happened to occlude my faith, but I think that at its foundation it's solid. It is a glorious piece of luck.

I know that as I spend these early weeks with my child, my one task, as I see it, is literally to embody for him the abundant universe. He's still coming into this life; he's new here. How is the world as he finds it? There is a lot of big, scary, uncertain stuff that he doesn't need to know about yet. But he is almost always held. We hold him bare skin against bare skin. We hold him in the sunlight streaming through our bedroom windows. We carry him, we sleep next to him, we wear him in a sling. He is never away from us. He is never left alone. We sing and babble and kiss him and make jokes. He is always fed when, or even before, he asks. There is plenty to eat. He is kept dry and clean and warm. That big, loud beast, the dog, is his friend. He shows no fear.

And there is a huge, excited, welcoming, loving community holding him and his parents. We were held during the birth by an extended network of friends. Witches worked magic for him. Astrologers watched the sky. Gifts continue to arrive. People come to visit. Home-cooked dinners appear on our doorstep every other day; his body is literally being built by the community. I'm in awe of the generosity, love, and good will engendered by this small being.

He affirms my faith in all things good.

A poem for Brigid

2009-02-02T23:24:00.003-05:00

(Venus at the Forge of Vulcan, Louis Le Nain, 1641)

Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat?
Then crouch within the door--
Red--is the Fire's common tint--
But when the vivid Ore
Has vanquished Flame's conditions,
It quivers from the Forge
Without a color, but the light
Of unanointed Blaze.
Least Village has its Blacksmith
Whose Anvil's even ring
Stands symbol for the finer Forge
That soundless tugs--within--
Refining these impatient Ores
With Hammer, and with Blaze
Until the Designated Light
Repudiate the Forge--

(Emily Dickinson)

Imbolc: in the Mother's belly

2009-02-01T21:00:00.004-05:00

(Lucian, 3 weeks)

Normally for Imbolc I host a poetry party. We light candles, eat dairy-rich foods, and drink wine. Everyone brings a poem to read. I especially encourage children to read; our youngest reader was five. We've had poems read in Russian, Icelandic, and Yiddish, as well as English. Folks have read Shakespeare and Shel Silverstein, Olga Broumas and Mary Oliver. People read their own poems, too. This is a good time of year for a party, and it's a nice way to celebrate the holiday with non-Pagan friends.

This year I've been a bit preoccupied, and I didn't notice Imbolc creeping up on me, despite the days growing longer again. Only yesterday did I realize that February is upon us. I'll make time to participate in the Fourth Annual Brigid in the Blogosphere Poetry Slam. But no party this year.

My life feels like it's been stirred in Brigid's cauldron these last several weeks. I'm still assimilating the enormous initiation and transformation I've undergone. To you, I send all good wishes of inspiration and transformation.

"You were born in a merry hour"

2009-01-27T14:52:00.004-05:00

When Lucian was born, my astrology teacher sent me his natal chart. Several astrologers I know had been watching the stars for weeks, awaiting the birth. I know just enough astrology, and am just enough a new parent, that I could look at the chart, look up a few things, and freak myself out. A very little bit of knowledge is dangerous, at least to oneself.

Yesterday I was looking at the chart again and freaking out, so I emailed my teacher about scheduling a March appointment for the family. I told her how I was scaring myself and what some of my concerns are.

Today, visiting our favorite cafe for lunch following a pediatrician's appointment, we saw my teacher. Adonis and I walked in, Adonis carrying the baby in his car seat. We were immediately greeted by several people we knew. My teacher came over to us in the midst of the whirlwind and said, "I didn't even see you guys, but I saw the baby and knew immediately who he was." She gave me a big hug and said loudly into my ear, "don't be stupid; just look at him." Then she leaned over Lucian and, like a fairy godmother from a fairy tale, whispered words for only him to hear. He watched her intently, and when she was finished, he closed his eyes and slept.

Early days

2009-01-25T13:03:00.004-05:00

Yesterday at the mystery school a friend said to me, "you still look totally shocked--or am I just projecting?" I replied, "nope, I'm still totally shocked." How does one get used to the idea of having a baby? "Getting used to" doesn't even make sense. He's just there, now, this whole new part of my life, who in the early days and weeks feels like all of life. I'm sure at some point I'll once again have a thought that isn't about the baby, but not yet. It's been only two weeks. Mostly, we breastfeed and sleep. We've had some visitors, including my family for a weekend. I'm aimlessly reading some books. We care for Gryphon, who seems to be adjusting well, but whom I worry about anyway; does he still feel important and loved? Does he feel like he has a role? (He's very protective of the baby and me, but I worry he's stressing himself out.) Adonis does household chores and keeps me fed, with the help of friends dropping off meals every other day. On warmer days, when it gets above 20 degrees, we all go for a long walk. But mostly, we're captivated. Held captive.

Yesterday we spent the day at the mystery school with Adonis's class. That was very good. So much love. I wouldn't have had Lucian without the hope my years in the school have given me. We can change. We can heal. We can risk love. We nourish ourselves in the darkness and reach out toward the light.

Welcome, little light

2009-01-14T17:42:00.002-05:00

I gave birth to our beautiful son on Saturday the 10th at 1:42 p.m. We named him Lucian, meaning "light" (like Lugh and luz), to honor the dark time of the year and the difficult time in our lives that allowed him to come forth. We feel fully blessed and wrapped in the love of our communities. Thank you to all of you here who have been holding space for us.

Waiting

2009-01-06T12:22:00.004-05:00

Yesterday we went to visit our midwife, who performed acupuncture on me and checked on the baby (still in utero). Baby is fine, taking its own sweet time. I'm fine, too, if a little impatient and judgmental of my impatience. (Pregnancy hormones are a fine thing, though--very soothing.) Adonis went back to work today so he can spend his alotted time off with the baby instead of sitting around watching me not have the baby, which was making him anxious. Gryphon the dog is keeping a close eye on me and prefers not to let me out of his sight. I wish I knew what he knows.

Thank you to everyone who keeps checking in and leaving comments. You help keep my spirits up; I feel so lovingly supported by my cybercommunity.

And still not yet

2009-01-02T19:26:00.002-05:00

Thanks to everyone who keeps checking in. I will keep you posted.

We've descended into quite a bit of silliness in the household. I want the baby to know that eager as we were to meet her/him, we also had a lot of fun waiting. And waiting...

Not yet

2008-12-31T18:51:00.002-05:00

Still no baby; looks like s/he's coming in 2009. Morale is flagging a bit here at chez Inanna, though I know this is all perfectly normal: the lateness, the emotions in reaction to lateness, trying to keep busy, trying to stay focused, wondering what we could be doing differently while knowing, somehow, that everything is unfolding as it should. I got into the birthing tub tonight to try it out and watched the bright crescent moon rise through the window. We've created such a beautiful, loving space. I'm quite happy in this, the very definition of liminal space.

Adonis and my sister have shoveled out the car and gone for Thai food and dvds. I'm curious to learn which movie they manage to agree on. Another member of my birth team is coming over to hang out and braid my hair. I'll likely fall asleep early.

May She hold you close as we all tumble into the new year.

Uber-Cap

2008-12-27T12:05:00.002-05:00

One day past our due date, and baby and I are hanging out with Adonis, Gryphon, and my sister, who arrived yesterday and is blessedly doing housework. If the baby comes in the next day or two, s/he'll have six planets in Capricorn, including sun and moon. Sun, moon, Mars, and Pluto are basically conjunct in the first six degrees of the sign. That's a little hard to get my head around.

Fair Yule

2008-12-25T16:16:00.004-05:00

Belated solstice blessings, ye Pagani, and a merry christmas to those who celebrate today, too. (Earlier I was saying to Adonis, christmas is really the same holiday as solstice, you think Jesus was really born in midwinter?) I celebrate christmas when I'm with my parents and sister; growing up, it was always a special day in our house, and I don't mind continuing that. I like the candlelight service and carols, the special breakfast, the gifts. But I haven't missed them this year, as we've stayed home.

The solstice tree is sparkling, we've had special food, and we had a very sweet ritual in the birthing room on solstice night. For me, the solstice is about honoring the simplicity, darkness, and quiet of the season, so gifts are wintry and warming; this year I gave Adonis long underwear, flannel pajamas, and a new turtleneck the color of his eyes. There is a wreath on the door, soup on the stove, and cookies in the oven. Friends are stopping by to visit. Family are calling on the phone.

Last night Adonis tossed and turned and had unusually vivid dreams about moving through tunnels and greeting unexpected angels at the door. "Prepare, make way, the time is nigh." I thought immediately of all those dreaming men in the bible, men like Jacob, the Pharoah, and Joseph. The women, it seems, never dreamt, but instead were visited while awake by angels (Sarah, Elizabeth, Mary). Why is this?

I always appreciated Sarah's skepticism ("a child at my age? tell me another one") over Mary's obedience ("I am the lord's handmaiden"), but now I see, too, that to experience pregnancy and birth is to give oneself over to forces not of one's own ego and will. I made a conscious decision in the last couple of years to open myself more and more to the magic of what happens, to ride my life rather than try to steer it. I don't know why that works better for me, but it does.

That is my Pagan prayer for the winter solstice: to open to magic and mystery, to earth and the fullness of being human; as much as possible to bear witness to my own life without judgment; to love, to hope, to have faith; and to try to feel all of it.

Still cookin'

2008-12-24T17:27:00.002-05:00

Nothing to report yet on the baby front. I'm cleaning a little, cooking a little, sleeping a lot, watching movies. And I'm so happy not to be traveling for the holidays!

Slow times

2008-12-19T12:33:00.002-05:00

Yesterday the sun was shining, which is a rare thing this time of year. I took Gryphon for a walk--more of a slow waddle on my part--so we could sunbathe. There is a nice stretch of land along the lake's inlet where it's safe to let dogs off-leash, yet few people take advantage of it. We rarely encounter anyone else there, except for disgruntled Canada geese, though we do see human, dog, and deer footprints in the snow.

Today we're getting a foot of snow. It's coming down fast and beautiful. I'm contemplating walking three blocks to the coffee shop for a mocha. But who knows? Gryph and I managed to stay under the covers till noon.

Today is Adonis's last day of work for six weeks! Hooray for parental leave!

The birthing room is almost ready. If I manage to do any work today, it will be finished. Last night two friends came over to help with the big tub. Amidst the art and quilts and houseplants, it looks less like a big agricultural trough and more like, as Adonis pointed out, a cauldron. I'll post photos of the room when it's ready.

Pleasure is a holy thing

2008-12-16T14:43:00.003-05:00

For several days I've been thinking about writing about sex. (That seems either fitting or nuts for someone about to give birth, no?) A few things prompt my reverie. (1) A recent conversation with a close friend that reminded me, yet again, how many couples of long standing aren't having sex, and how surprised I am every time I hear something like this. (2) Several recent articles and comment threads (at Salon, Jezebel, and the NYT) about the documentary Orgasmic Birth. (3) Jason's ongoing excellent coverage of the Pagan dimension of the struggle for gay marriage; in particular, his fine argument that legally forbidding same-sex marriage is a violation of Pagans' freedom of religious expression.

Paganism is, at its most cohesive, a family of religious (or spiritual) traditions (or practices) with some views or practices held in common. None of the Pagan religions are religions of the book (will someone come along to dispute that "none"?); as a rule, we're not doctrinal. So there is no one Pagan view on sex or sexuality, and certainly no one view is prescribed. Our views on sex and sexuality are as various as we are.

At the same time, we tend to be a libertarian and unconventional bunch, or to fancy ourselves as such, so individual Pagans' views about sex often do fall outside those of the mainstream. One example, prompted by Jason's most recent post, is that mainstream culture is heteronormative; that is, there is a pervasive cultural belief that heterosexuality is to be preferred to homosexuality or bisexuality, mostly for moral reasons. (Even those who argue that heterosexuality is better because it's more natural are, at base, usually making a moral argument.) Pagans, on the other hand, tend to eschew heteronormativity. We don't value heterosexuality any more than other expressions of sexuality; we don't think it's better or more natural than anything else. Wiccans often point to those words from the Charge of the Goddess--"all acts of love and pleasure are My rituals"--to make the point.

Are people attracted to Paganism in part because it doesn't condemn unconventional views about sex, and it even welcomes such views? I know I am. My own views about sex, and my own exerience of sex, fit within a Pagan worldview; they don't fit within the confined doctrines of the church I was raised in. At the same time, I often feel like an alien in the dominant culture more generally: my reaction to some women's claims that they experience orgasm during childbirth is, "cool! I should be so lucky." Yet many commenters in the articles I point to above responded either with "they're lying," or "ew, gross, orgasms and children shouldn't have anything to do with each other, that's incest." (Presumably such people do know how babies are usually made.)

In the healing tradition I study, sexual energy is just one manifestation of energy or the life force. In anti-sex, Puritanical cultures where we're encouraged from a very young age (birth? pre-birth?) to block, hide, and disavow sexual energy, we're literally blocking, hiding, and disavowing our life force. The result is physical, emotional, psychological, and spiritual illness. The result is disconnection from the earth and from each other: pain, isolation, alienation, addiction. These are the results of living in a culture where sexual expression is permitted or endorsed only within very narrow norms, and where sexual autonomy isn't valued at all.

The reason to support same-sex marriage is because we live in what is supposed to be a secular nation, partial to no one religion, in which adults have equal rights and protection under the law. But the reason I haven't married is because I believe the institution of marriage puts narrow constraints on what's morally and socially acceptable, and that these constraints are harmful. Even if we loosen the constraints a little to allow same-sex couples to marry--and I think we should do at least that much, because people's lives and wellbeing are literally at stake--we're not challenging many aspects of traditional marriage that should be challenged. I have no problem with a couple's choosing monogamy, for example, but I have problems with a social system that removes most of the significance from that choice by making it normative.

(Actual same-sex partnerships do challenge the norm of monogamy far more than opposite-sex partnerships do; monogamy is less likely to be a long-term expectation for same-sex couples, whether they consider themselves married or not, than of married straight couples. I don't want to claim that same-sex marriage isn't highly transgressive, and in a good way. Clearly it is, or people wouldn't get so worked up about it. I also don't think that monogamy is any better or worse than polyamory. I value honesty to oneself and one's partner most of all. My own choices have varied at different times in my life and with different relationships, and my only regret is when I've failed to be honest, to embody integrity.)

All acts of love and pleasure are My rituals. "All acts of love and pleasure" is a wide rubric. Give thanks and take pleasure in the expression of life force in its wide and various forms: sex and dancing, swimming in hot springs, getting a massage, laughing or crying with your best friend, eating a delicious meal, breathing mountain air, planting a garden, getting sloppy kisses from your pit bull, gazing at the moon, being present with your emotions, giving birth to your baby, making art, falling asleep under the stars. Feel it. It's not always easy. We hold ourselves back from pleasure. But pleasure is a holy thing. So practice.

This is lovely

2008-12-14T21:12:00.005-05:00

I would guess that the Winter Solstice is important because it combines a moment of poise and stillness--that only the dark can provide--with a real change of direction. Everything goes on but nothing is quite the same again. This echoes our experience of those Solstice moments of life: birth, menarche, leaving home and cleaving to another, death.... Womb moments.

To listen or be truly touched we have to be brought to the point of stillness. Only then can we be truly open to the other. Then we must enter the creative dark where all seems confused and uncertain and anything can happen. Then the light rises. Then all seems the same but there is that deep awareness that things will never be the same again.

--Paul, She changes everything She touches, "Evoking the Goddess"

A tree of happiness

2008-12-14T17:45:00.004-05:00

Terri has tagged me for a "Tree of Happiness" award. I don't know what I've done to warrant an award, but I'm more than happy to play along with the meme. Here it is.

• Link to the person who gave the award to you.
• Post the rules on your blog.
• List six things that make you happy.
• Tag six people at the end of your post and link to them.
• Let each person know they’ve been tagged and leave a comment on their blog
• Let the person who awarded you know when your entry is up.

Six things that make me happy:

1. My relationship with my partner, with whom I feel blessed every single day;
2. My sweet-hearted pit bull;
3. Swimming in hot springs (I really should be a northern California girl);
4. Kindness, and the capacity to be open to it;
5. Walking in the woods;
6. Dancing.

Tagging six bloggers whose blogs make me happy: Cate, Kim, Lunaea, Molly, Luna, and Sia.

Full moon in Gemini

2008-12-12T14:12:00.005-05:00

(Virgen de Guadalupe by Susan Grice; image found here.)

Today is the full moon in Gemini 22: Dancing couples crowd the barn in a harvest festival.

This degree Symbol is about celebrating the warmth and providence of the earth, the joy of nature's harvest, joining with others to celebrate, the reality of rhythmical or seasonal adjustments, agriculture, good old-time values, going out, having fun, listening and dancing to music, barns and dance halls.

Today's full moon is at its perigree for the year, the closest to the earth it will come. I don't think it will be visible where I am, given the cloud cover. But do try to see it if you can! Go here to read Lynda's full report for the day.

Today is also the feast day of the Virgen de Guadalupe, one of my favorite faces of the Goddess, beloved in Mexico and the southwestern U.S. Despite her roots in Catholicism, I consider her a goddess native to the Americas.

Today is the first day of the We'Moon calendar for the upcoming year. The theme for the year is "At the Crossroads." Since 2000, We'Moon has been progressing through the major arcana of the tarot for its yearly themes. 2009 is card 9, the hermit or the crone; Hecate the crone rules the crossroads. At the crossroads, our elders and ancestors, those who walked the path before us, serve as our guides. Read a statement of alliance from the International Council of 13 Indigenous Grandmothers here (and in the new We'Moon).

Today I'm ordering herbs to restock my pantry in preparation for birth and days postpartum. There is still cleaning and stocking to do before the little one, due at the new moon, arrives.

Noontime walk with Gryph

2008-12-10T13:04:00.002-05:00

Lying in

2008-12-09T10:27:00.005-05:00

In this morning's dark before the alarm went off, Gryphon climbed the stairs and crawled into bed with us, burrowing under the covers next to Adonis. I snuggled in closer to Adonis, relieved that today, at last, I didn't have to get up and go to work. The lying-in has begun! After several minutes Adonis had to extricate himself to go take a shower--he has far more resolve than I do, to pull himself out from between two warm, loving bodies--and Gryphon curled up to rest his head against my body, beneath my heart. I presume he was listening to my heartbeat, and the baby's, too. He rested like this for a while, and then straightened out his body so his head lay on Adonis's pillow, his body parallel to mine. We slept nose to nose until it was time for him to have his morning walk with Adonis. At the first jingle of collar and leash, he was out of bed and back downstairs.

Adonis and I left the house around our usual time, since I had to drive him to the airport to pick up a rental car; he's off for a 32-hour business trip to the city. When I got home, Gryphon was a little surprised, since most days he doesn't see me between breakfast and lunch. I've been craving long, lazy days at home with him, but most of this morning he's been on high alert, ready to jump up and bark at the slightest noise outside. Poor guy; it hadn't occurred to me that my being home with him might interrupt his morning sleep. Now I've got music on, and he's settled somewhat. Shortly we'll head back to bed with a book.

Spirit is not separate from Matter

2008-12-09T10:11:00.004-05:00

Terri writes this incisive bit of thealogy at her blog:

Spirit is not separate from Matter. I don't believe with some people of faith that Spirit was inserted into Matter at some point in Creation. Neither do I believe with some Buddhists that Spirit is ultimately the important thing.

Spirit and Matter are co-dependent. They are so inextricably intertwined in one another that not even death completely separates them. Spirit suffuses every atom of Matter, and Matter interpenetrates Spirit from each and every one of those atoms. Spirit Matters, and Matter is en Spirited.

Thus the conclusion that Earth is Primary is inescapable. Our landbase is what makes our consciousness of Spirit possible....

Life does indeed teach Life, and toxified and sickly Life can only inform pathologically.

The sleepy sun

2008-12-02T11:07:00.003-05:00

(Art found here.)

Joanna is celebrating Advent-of-the-Sun at her blog; each day this month, as we await the return of the sun, she'll post a small gift: a poem, photo, or recipe. (One year in the spring she posted a really good iTunes playlist for Ostara; might you consider a Yule playlist, Joanna?)

I also love the idea of celebrating the four Sun-days before the solstice. Beth Owl's Daughter uses a wreath with candles, like an advent wreath, but she calls it a Solstice Sun Wheel, and on each of the four Sun-days before solstice she calls and honors one of the directions/elements.

These dark, quiet days between Samhain and the winter solstice hold wonderful magic that I long to celebrate even as I resist anything too fast-paced, consumer-oriented, hard-working or hard-partying about the season. 'Tis a lovely time for a lying-in, isn't it? (Thanks, Hecate, for reminding me of that lovely, old-fashioned, and eminently reasonable idea.)

Birthdays and presents

2008-12-01T09:38:00.002-05:00

Happy birthday wishes to two men who have long delighted me: John Crowley and Woody Allen. (Who knew they shared a birthday, and with my little friend Iðunn, too?)

Last night was our last childbirth class, and the man who delights me the most gave me an excellent footbath and foot massage and a very cool present. (Let's hear it for retro-aesthetic sexuality, postmodern femininity, and pit bulls.)

Where we're at

2008-11-29T12:27:00.002-05:00

That's Gryphon with my baby belly. Four weeks till our due date.

Our birth team came over for the home visit yesterday: our midwife, her apprentice, and their nurse. They'd been up the night before at a birth. We showed them around our house and sat down with them to envision the birth. They described their different roles and asked what we needed from them. While they'll be there throughout the labor to offer support and monitor how the labor goes, they also described themselves as working quietly in tandem, largely in the background, meditating and holding space for us and the baby. I'll give birth in a space created by Adonis, my sister, and me, held by these three women with tons of experience (I have none, after all) who respect the instinctual, animal wisdom of my body, who will support Adonis and me but not interfere with us, who will offer us care and love throughout the birthing. In my wider community, word will go out via the mystery school's listservs that I'm in labor, and we'll be held by all of that love and energy, too.

I'm very excited. I feel so lucky that we've been able to create sacred space and intention around the birth; no matter what happens in terms of events, we've created a vessel to hold us.

I'm slowing waaaay down. My brain is enjoying more spaciousness, less pointed analysis. This morning as we walked home from brunch, Adonis delighted me with a high-flying exposition on capitalism, saving the earth, and Shiva. My response? "I need to pee, and then I need to lie down."

That's where we're at these days.

iPhone

2008-11-15T18:15:00.003-05:00

Life has been far too busy the last couple of weeks. I'm looking forward to things slowing down.

I was snapping photos of Gryphon today, to email to Adonis, who's out of town. There's my handsome boy. Photos on my new iPhone, I should add. Adonis is a hardcore iPhone fanatic, and I put off getting one for a long time, because I thought I could never love it the way he does, and hence couldn't justify the expense. After laundering my much despised cell phone last weekend--it was an accident, I swear!--and my verizon contract having just run out, it was time to take the plunge. I'm quite happy with my gorgeously designed, sexy, intuitive little machine. Using it is a total pleasure.

If only there were a nice Blogger interface application so I could blog easily from the iPhone.

Hope

2008-11-05T11:03:00.005-05:00

My sister just sent me this email:

I called [my friend, who is African-American] this morning and she told me that when her stepson woke up and found out who won, he was so excited, he told her "Mommy, now I can be president, too." And her girlfriend called her to tell her that her seven year old son dressed himself in his Sunday suit for school telling his mother that if he was going to be president he'd better start dressing like it.

There are a lot of people this morning dreaming of a much better and more equitable world. The power of that inspiration can't be underestimated.

I voted...

2008-11-04T12:05:00.001-05:00

...and then I went to a Rotary club pancake breakfast. People are so excited; it feels like a national holiday. Friends and new friends, hugs and blueberry pancakes all around! Blessed be.

Samhain blessings

2008-10-31T10:24:00.002-04:00

(Art found here.)

It will be a quiet observance at home this year: no altars set up, no decorations unpacked. I might carve a jack o'lantern after work, before trick-or-treaters arrive, if I have the energy.

But this time of year is magical regardless, and I've spent lots of time out of doors with Gryphon, watching the changes in the sky and earth, feeling the shimmering liminality, talking to my dead; imagining Lugh, who died a year ago, and my grandma, who died in the spring, and my baby-to-be, who arrives with one more turn of the wheel, spending time together on just the other side of the veil.

Blessings to you in these holiest of days.

Doggerel

2008-10-28T12:32:00.003-04:00

I found this in my in-box from Adonis this morning:

I love pit bulls!

And I love you!

Therefore, you are a pit bull!

My response: oy, logic in the hands of amateurs.

His response: I prefer to think of it as poetry in the hands of amateurs.

Hence the pun that titles this post.

ETA: The occasion for this bit of doggerel was Adonis's purchasing for us the 2009 The Unexpected Pit Bull calendar. 100% of proceeds from this sweet, beautifully photographed calendar go to support pit bull rescue and advocacy groups.

Six random things

2008-10-24T20:50:00.004-04:00

Thalia (new blog!) and Terri have both tagged me for this meme. Here are the rules:

1. Link to the person who tagged you.
2. Post the rules on your blog.
3. Write six random things about yourself.
4. Tag six people at the end of your post and link to them.
5. Let each person know they’ve been tagged and leave a comment on their blog.
6. Let the tagger know when your entry is up.

I've organized mine by (random) theme.

1) Dancing. When I was not quite three, I insisted to my mom that I had to take ballet lessons. No one knows where I got the idea. I think she had been putting me off for a bit, because, you know, I was a toddler, so one summer day I told her I was going to go sit on the back step and wait for her to make the phone call to the ballet teacher. Bless her, she did find a school that offered a dance-and-tumbling program for toddlers, and she found the money to give me lessons. I studied dance into my college years: ballet, tap, jazz, modern, and musical theater. I was never more than a devoted amateur. My top two female baby names are those of favorite dancers from my youth. (And I can tell you one, because Adonis has vetoed it: Isadora. The other is currently our top choice for a girl. Stay tuned.)

2) Sex. I started having sex when I was 16. Since then, in 22 years, I've never gone more than six months without a sexual partner. I've had sex with women and men both, with friends and people I've been in love with, but never with a stranger. Sex is one of my favorite things in life (along with dancing), and my partner, Adonis, is the best lover I've ever had. We've been together for nearly 13 years.

3) Handwriting. I have beautiful handwriting. I'm proud of it, and I always get compliments on it. However, my grandmother, who was a teacher for nearly 50 years, was frustrated because I never learned to hold a pen correctly. Apparently, there is a correct way to hold a pen. (Don't ask me what it is; I can't do it.) Also, I don't know how to type correctly, though I'm fast; that has never bothered anyone but me.

4) Food. I was a vegetarian for 11 years because of a philosophy book I read, Animal Liberation by Peter Singer. That was not healthy for my body. I resumed eating meat about seven years ago, largely because of arguments in a philosophy book I read, Animal, Vegetable, or Woman? A Feminist Critique of Ethical Vegetarianism by Kathryn Paxton George.

5) Illness. I'm the only member of my immediate family not to have a life-threatening illness.

6) Travel. I visited the Soviet Union once, in July of 1989, months before the end of communism. (For the record: we never saw it coming. I remember vividly the day my mother woke me with the news.) I've never been to Russia. But I did visit Poland both during (1989) and after (1994-95) communism. I lived in central Europe after college, and then I traveled to most of the former Soviet bloc countries.

Consider yourself tagged: Sonja, Deborah, Diana, Morninghawk, Patrick, and Sabrina.

Smack in the middle of desire

2008-10-22T14:02:00.004-04:00

Despite the name of this blog, anyone who's read for a while or knows me in real life knows that I'm a big fan of desire. It's one of the most delicious and satisfying features of being incarnate. So I'm quite enjoying this part of my pregnancy where I could literally eat all day long. So far today I've had a Greek yogurt with honey, raw cider, a scone, a decaf Americano with cream, a grilled ham and cheese sandwich, a pear, carrot sticks, some sesame sticks, and the apple I'm working on now. Good times.

Parenthood, flexibility, fear, and politics

2008-10-20T10:31:00.002-04:00

I took a personal day from work today, wanting to rest, work around the house, and write. I've started the dishes, cuddled with the dog, read some blogs, and had some oatmeal and tea. A bit of writing, and then I'm upstairs to finish unpacking the bathroom. I want to spend as much time as I can preparing the house--I work slowly and deliberately--but it's felt difficult to do while working full time, caring for the dog, running necessary errands, getting enough rest.... I'm a Pisces. We're easily overwhelmed. Lately I've been thinking about this quality a lot and trying to find some value in it, rather than just hating it and wishing it weren't true. If I know that I get overwhelmed easily, and I'm practicing acceptance, what is the healthiest way to proceed, and what gifts can I discover?

Last night Adonis and I attended our first Birthing from Within childbirth class. I've felt so much serendipity around our pregnancy so far, and very little anxiety or fear. (I just want the house to be ready!) All indicators are that I'm healthy, the fetus is healthy, and things are proceeding normally; we've opted for very little testing or intervention of any kind, preferring to embrace the inevitable mystery of the process, and that feels like the right choice. We feel utterly blessed to be working with our calm, hugely competent, compassionate midwife and her apprentice, a Witch with something of an attitude. The childbirth class is just us and one other couple; the other pregnant woman shares a first name with me, is due a week before I am, and lives with her partner two blocks from us. Like us, they're first-time "older" parents. The teacher is certainly Pagan-ish if not Pagan. Both Adonis and I were relieved after the first class to have an intentional space for focusing on the birth. Sometimes little bits of doubt creep into my brain--maybe we should be doing things some other way, having sonograms, planning a hospital birth--but then I'll have an experience, like attending last night's class, that confirms for me the way we've chosen to do things.

My family has been relatively chill, for them, but it's clear that they're taking on the worry-work that is eluding me. That bugs me. I'm sure it's a good lesson for parenthood to be dealing now with disagreement, conflict, and their fear about my choices; there's going to be plenty about the way Adonis and I parent that my own parents won't like. But the shock for me has been how my parents apparently don't care what my reasons are. They don't want to be reassured. They don't want explanations. They don't want to--or can't--hear why I value what I value. They just want to express their own fears and opinions and then hope I change my mind. There's no dialogue, no conversation. I think of the premium I place on gathering information, thinking things through, listening to my intuition, consulting my values, consulting my partner...and I marvel that these people, my people, don't use the same methods or value the same things. Didn't they encourage me to think critically? Didn't they teach me to consult my own heart and conscience? I thought they did. Maybe I was wrong. It's unsettling and weird to realize--at my quite advanced age, I know--that in an important sense, they don't care what I think. They don't want to understand what I'm doing or why.

All of this led Adonis to make an observation with which I quickly and easily agreed, once it had been articulated: when we're parents, we want to engage our kid(s) in conversations about what they believe and value, and to listen and sincerely try to understand, even if we disagree. I feel as if my parents maybe tried to do this when I was growing up, but I haven't felt that openness from them in a long time.

Something that's very true for me, though clearly not for everyone, and probably doesn't have to be true for everyone: to love me means that you care enough to hear what I believe and why I believe it.

Is that quite right? Of course my parents love me; of course they care for me. Yet still I feel this lack--a fundamental way of being cared for that I get from my partner and many of my friends and teachers, but not from my family of origin. That care expresses itself in wanting to hear what I have to say, wanting to know what I believe, and valuing the fact that I value something. It's a way of taking me seriously. It is, I believe, what Iris Murdoch means when she talks about "loving attention." It requires curiosity and flexibility on the part of the parent, the lover, the one who cares, and it requires a temporary suspension of fear and ego.

Now all of a sudden I feel like I'm talking about reasons to support Obama over McCain this election. And I am. McCain is the inflexible, calcified, ego- and fear-driven, dismissive patriarch writ large. So is Sarah Palin, for that matter: age and sex don't define these things. While McCain and Palin are both so readily dismissive of women's health and other items on the "liberal feminist agenda" (not that he has a damn clue what that means; I was still shocked to hear him state the matter so baldly), Obama and Biden appear utterly believably as good dads--literally, not in an archetypal sense, though that, too, must matter. Obama is able to convey his flexibility, curiosity, and devotion to the best in people while running the most impressively tight and creative campaign for president I have ever seen. One of McCain's slogans may be "country first," but it's pretty clear he's really about himself first, foremost, perhaps only. Obama, on the other hand, really appears fearless, and he appears largely to set his ego aside in pursuit of a larger, shared good.

Reading if not writing

2008-10-10T10:32:00.005-04:00

There has been so much to write about in the last few weeks and no time to sit down to write. Both work and home life have been busy, and as I enter the third trimester of pregnancy I don't have as much energy as I would like to have. (Practicing acceptance...ahem.) I've contented myself with reading your blogs; there has been more writing than usual, it seems to me, in the Pagan blogosphere, so much of it excellent. As always, I delight in the good work regularly issuing forth from Jason, Hecate, Lunaea, Molly, Anne, Sia, and Joanna.

Recently, Hecate has written about calling on the ancestors:

When I call North/Earth/Pentacles, I'm calling ancestors, bears, wolves, foxes, moose, caves, mountains, plains, stones, decomposing bodies, the power to be silent. What I learned, almost by accident, tonight, is that, if you call Obama's ancestors to come protect him, well, they will Show Up. No, really. They. Will. Show. Up. He can be protected from the racist hatred being stirred up against him. His ancestors -- from both sides -- will Show Up and deflect the danger.

I pass this along for others who are doing protective magic for him.

He stays safe through January 20th, when his own Secret Service, loyal to him, can take over. This is my will. So mote it be.

And about the practice of magic more generally:

You can't set out doing magic in order to obtain this feeling, this cellular and organic understanding that you are a vessel for, and an opening into the world of, magic. But at some point -- after half a lifetime of grounding and centering and casting circles and calling the quarters and speaking intentions and chanting and dancing and drumming and visualizing and raising cones and releasing cones and being frustrated and being enchanted and returning daily to your altar, happy, sad, frustrated, disbelieving, coming, as Rumi said, yet again, come, come, even though you have abandoned your vows a thousand times, come, yet again, come, come -- you find the mystery within yourself. And it seems to me, not that I would know, that it's just like what they said about those who experienced the Mysteries of Eleusis: ever after, they had no fear of death. Ever after, you know that you have found within yourself what you could never find without: that which has been with you from the beginning and which is attained at the end of all desire.

And, yet, and here's only one more lovely paradox, you have to get up the next morning and practice again, sit zazen again, ground again, connect again with the mist in the Autumn garden and the squirrels in the trees and the current in the air and the Fifth Sacred Thing.

Lunaea has written about her call to an unestablished priesthood, a call I also hear:

It started when I went looking online for Benedictine monasteries that offer retreats, as I've been feeling that after my big work push is over this year it might be a good idea to get away and center myself for a few days. Perusing these websites, I read about the pattern of the days for the monks and nuns, the hours dedicated to prayer, to silence, to work, to leisure, to study, to collective worship. I read the descriptions of vocation, what to do if you feel the call to such a life, and I was filled with wistfulness, because I am indeed called to such a life, but not to Christianity. I admire the religion, in its best and highest forms, as I do all religions, but it doesn't speak to the core of my being, certainly not in the most passionate way required of a nun. (I like Jesus, but I don't want to marry him.) Clicking through the web pages, my wistfulness grew into deep longing, an ache in my heart. I want that sense of committed community, I want spiritual directors and counselors, I want a home I can count on for life, I want peace, I want time for devotions... I want, I want, I want....

After my ordination this spring, my healer from my first year at the mystery school said to me, "welcome to the life of a freelance minister and healer." What does that look like? What will it mean?

Joy seeping in

2008-09-25T21:03:00.003-04:00

Gryphon is next to me on the couch, sleeping underneath a quilt. This is his favorite way to sleep, completely buried in covers, preferably with a warm body next to him. Earlier this evening he was lying alongside me with his head resting on my belly, and the baby was kicking more than I've felt in days. (Either the baby has had a mellow week, or the kicking has become less novel, so I notice it less.)

Earlier still today we took a walk through a beautiful, spirit-filled state park. The leaves are turning. There was no one else around, so I let him spend some time off leash. It's so fulfilling to see him begin to enjoy himself more, bounding in the dead leaves, or even walking on leash beside me, his head alert but relaxed, his tail lifted, a spring in his step. It's like joy is seeping into him. That capacity for joy after all the hardship in his life is a basic spiritual lesson for me. It's a holy thing to witness.

We spent my lunch hour on a quilt in the backyard (how grateful am I that I live in a place where I have a 5 minute commute to work? incredibly grateful). He wandered the yard a bit, and rolled in the grass on his back, and sat next to me to share my apple. I had a magazine with me to read, but I spent most of my time watching him and rubbing his head and belly.

In many ways it's been a hard week. I've felt dissatisfied and unsure of what I need. I've been weepy. I've felt lonely and isolated. My job is mostly boring me. I've had a couple of minor disappointments. I've been anxious about the state of the world. The equinox was particularly intense, energetically. (The penumbra of Mercury moving retrograde, perhaps?) I've felt spiritually disconnected. And yet. I've been blessed by this wonderful new relationship with this sweet dog. My spiritual practice has been to spend time with him.

Today while we were walking and I was watching him and thinking about his blossoming, I thought again of one of the most important lessons for me of the last several years. I credit Lugh, my first dog, largely, as well as the mystery school and my ever-deepening relationship with my beloved life partner. The role of care and loving attention in enabling a being to flourish cannot be underestimated. It is crucial, as essential as clean water. It's such a simple thing, so potentially abundant, something any of us can do. Cruelty, willful ignorance, and neglect sadden me more and more as I grow older; my willingness to tolerate those things diminishes. To care for one another in simple ways; to offer respect, love, attention, and a spirit of nonjudgment to this person, this animal, this tree, this soil...I'm tempted to say that that is all we need.

A little reminder

2008-09-25T15:11:00.003-04:00

"Is there a Goddess living in your backyard, watching out for you and only you? What luck! You should be happy."

(Anne Johnson)
(Photo found here.)

Decorating for Samhain, Target edition

2008-09-20T17:15:00.004-04:00

I was at Target this morning checking out their Samhain decorations, and I heard a college kid say, far more loudly and self-importantly than was warranted, "can you believe they have the Halloween stuff out? it's hardly the middle of September." My second thought was, well, yeah, kid, where've you been, marketing has been getting out of hand at least since you were born. But my first thought was, it's almost Mabon, of course we have to start decorating for Samhain next week. (Hey, I'm not the only Witch who gets itchy to decorate and celebrate this time of year.)

Target is usually a great resource for fun, inexpensive, elegant or kitschy Samhain decorations. I love picking out a few things every year. This year, alas, the choices seemed thinner and tackier than usual, and the prices a bit higher. (I appreciate kitsch, but I hate tackiness.) I bought only this kitschy-but-cool altar to the Horned God and a (faux) snakeskin lined tray in black (couldn't find it on-line), the latter more for year-round glamour than Samhain per se.

(These pumpkins--also in green--were handsome, but I didn't know where I'd put them. I might've been tempted by these if I'd seen them. I love these, but $25 for 10 lights? Ooo, but I didn't see these.)

Where do you go for fun, tasteful Samhain decor?

Update: I got two big, full, beautiful hardy mums in different shades of rusty orange at the grocery store this (Sunday morning). Those are for the front porch.

The beauty in brokenness

2008-09-18T19:55:00.003-04:00

Molly, still recovering from a seriously broken arm, has written a beautiful post inspired by some photos her daughter took to depict life on their farm to a far-away friend. Rather than take picture-postcard photos that try to convey a glossy and complete picture of the farm, Molly's daughter Elizabeth took photos of fragmented imperfection: September tomatoes, a cabbage with torn and bug-eaten outer leaves "reflecting the actual effort required to become a cabbage," her disheveled younger brother asleep on a screened-in porch. The photos and writing capture the beauty of this time of year between Lughnasadh and Mabon.

Elizabeth’s pictures suggest there is no obligation to strive for something other than what is or to strive to explain everything fully. They have an acceptance of transience. the illusive, and the natural processes that break down everything except the loving eye that bears witness to this brokenness.
Most growing seasons, I spend much of my time in the gardens working to bring the plants to their full and ripest point. I love this peak moment when I find it in a Flower, but these pictures reminded me of the beauty of things past their peak, broken, or imperfect.
Flowers never try to hold onto this peak moment, because going to seed is as important to them as their peak moment of beauty. Unlike our culture, they make no effort to hold onto some impossible moment of eternal youth. And this surrender is not a loss. The gardens have a deep beauty and gravitas as they pass into fall and winter. Plant architecture may be broken, but in fall, the gardens have great heart and wisdom.

In previous growing seasons, I too often fixated on “garden problems”, racing from one to another to clean things up. This year, I had to go wabi sabi on myself. In my brokenness, the path of least resistance was to look for the beauty in things just as they were. This proved so much easier than expected. The untended beauty of gorgeous volunteer Flowers as well as weeds reminded me, just as my broken arm reminded me, that sometimes the light shines best through a crack in the vessel.
No matter how much our minds might tell us the glass is half full, when we are forced to stop and really look at it, the glass is always overflowing. Nature always overflows our cup. Life always overflows our cup.

Read the whole post, and see the sweet photographs, here.

His dark materials

2008-09-02T14:08:00.003-04:00

Via Bookslut, a list of Philip Pullman's favorite books.

I can at least say that I own and have intended to read The Book of Disquiet and Rilke's Duino Elegies; that I've dipped into The Gnostic Gospels, Maus, and The Varieties of Religious Experience; and that I've heard of many of these titles and most of these authors...

...uh, but I've got some catching up to do.

Pagan church 2

2008-09-01T12:13:00.002-04:00

When your lover makes you brunch: organic pancakes with butter and maple syrup; bacon from local, humanely-raised pigs; local apple cider, unpasteurized! (If you're from an apple-growing state, you probably drank it as a kid, but it's nearly impossible to find now.)

Pagan church

2008-09-01T10:28:00.002-04:00

Yesterday, Adonis, Gryphon, and I took a morning walk, first to the neighborhood coffee shop for iced mochas, then up into the neighborhood gorge. We passed several churches and enjoyed the singing and organ music coming through the open doors. It was Gryphon's first trip to the gorge, though we have fond memories of taking Lugh there and letting him splash in the cold water on hot days.

Gryphon has poor eyesight, probably owing to malnutrition when he was a puppy. The three of us waded into the gorge where the water is gentle and just deep enough to cover our feet. Then Adonis carefully led Gryphon on his leash on a short path through that section of the gorge. Since it's sometimes slippery on the rocks, I opted to stay where I was and watch them. The second time around, Gryphon was off leash, slightly more confident, but still following close at Adonis's heels, even gently touching Adonis's heels with his nose, Adonis guiding him by hand over some trickier parts.

I stood in the lush, green, rocky gorge, hearing only the sound of the water over the rocks, feeling the cold water running over my feet, watching my beloved partner gently guide my beloved dog through the green-filtered sunlight and water. And I was filled with joy.

Spreading the love

2008-08-28T08:22:00.005-04:00

~~Three~~ Four readers have graciously nominated me for this peer-driven recognition:

And what better compliment is there? Thank you Sabrina of Pagan Dawn (and welcome to the Pagan blogosphere), Diana of Diana's Muse, Terri of Aquila ka Hecate, and Livia Indica of NeoPagan Ink! Thanks especially for the kind things you said on your blogs about mine. Whenever my enthusiasm for blogging wanes, it's kind words from readers that keep me writing. I appreciate every link and email (even if it sometimes takes me forever to answer them).

Here's how to share the love:

1. The winner can put the logo on her/his blog
2. Link the person you received the award from
3. Nominate at least 7 other blogs
4. Put links of those blogs on yours
5. Leave a message on the blogs nominated

And here are 7 more blogs I love.

Gaian Tarot Artist's Journal: It's no secret to my readers that I adore Joanna Powell Colbert's art and writing. Her tarot deck (still in progress) speaks to my soul more than any deck I've ever known. I read her blog for tastes of her luscious worldview and photos of her magical life. She's a Goddess-sister very close to my heart.

At Brigid's Forge: Lunaea Weatherstone is another Witch whose work I've admired for a long time. Her blogue is so elegant, her ideas so inspiring. She has a fascinating tarot, and she makes gorgeous Goddess rosaries; I'm the proud owner of one. It gets compliments from everyone.

Medusa Coils, with several contributors, is an excellent resource for keeping up on news relevant to the Goddess communities. My favorite feature is their monthly "Buzz Coil," which mines the Pagan blogosphere for treasure; they always come up with a post I've missed or a Pagan blog I haven't heard of yet.

The Wildhunt Blog: Hands-down the best Pagan reporting on the web. Relevant, fresh, insightful, extremely smart. I know you're all already reading him anyway. Huzzah, Jason!

Hecate: A daily read. Love her politics, her commitment, and her stories about her grandson. Unflinching.

Lynda Hill's Sabian Symbols: One of my favorite, trusty blogging resources for astrological news and interpretation. When I forget where the heck the moon is, I go here. (Uh, and I look up in the sky. But often it's cloudy.)

A Basket of Kisses: Not a Pagan blog, but a blog run by two Mad Men-crazy witches, Deborah Lipp and her sister, Roberta. I spend way too much time here.

Meet Gryphon

2008-08-27T12:19:00.004-04:00

Last Friday we brought home our newest bundle of joy. No, not a human baby; we still have several months to wait for that. The newest member of our family is a lovely adult pit bull, whom we've named Gryphon. We've waited a long time for him.

I have a fondness for many non-human animals (and a Pagan respect for all), but ever since my sweet Lugh radicalized me, my heart belongs to pit bulls. They're profoundly people-focused dogs, loving, loyal, and affectionate. While they can be horribly abused and exploited, they retain their optimism and love for people. It seems like it's nearly impossible to damage the heart or soul of a pit bull. See how the Michael Vick dogs are doing? (For lots more information about pit bulls, see the links in the sidebar.)

Gryphon was left behind in an apartment to starve to death. He was in bad shape when he was found and brought to the SPCA in a city north of here. That SPCA, like most, still, alas, is a kill shelter, but Gryphon's execution was stayed for a long time because he was a favorite of the staff. Still, after a year, no one had adopted him. (Pit bull adoptions are problematic in that city because of prevalent dog fighting. Also, he's really big. And he really looks like a pit bull.) When Gryphon started to show signs of kennel stress, some volunteers at the shelter called a pit bull advocate they knew and asked if she would take him, thereby saving his life, and try to place him in a home. She tried for a year. She attempted one adoption, but when it quickly became clear that the people had adopted him for the wrong reasons and it wasn't a good environment for him, she took him back and decided to keep him, even though her Lab was increasingly jealous and destructive, and even though she doesn't have a lot of money and works two jobs, which necessitated leaving the dogs at home for up to 12 hours at a time. Not ideal or what she wanted, but an economic necessity. On those days, Gryphon would spend up to 12 hours in his crate. But when we met him, he was clearly healthy and well-socialized, a testament to her devotion as well as his temperament.

The foster mom took down all the posters advertising his availability. But she forgot to take down the one at our SPCA, the one where Adonis and I volunteer. The day we closed on our house, Adonis went to his dog-walking shift and saw the poster. Somehow we'd missed it before, even though we always look at the SPCA bulletin board. He took a photo of the poster with his iPhone and brought it home to me. He called and talked to the woman. We went to meet the dog, out in the country about 45 minutes' drive from our town. After spending about two hours with him and his foster mom, we knew he was ours. We called her the next day and told her we wanted to adopt him. She was thrilled.

The next weekend we went to visit them again. We talked with the foster mom about our experience with dogs and pit bulls. She called the volunteer coordinator at our SPCA to ask about us. And then, last Friday, we brought him home.

After Lugh died last fall, we had hoped to adopt again within six months. But our landlord forbade it, not because of anything we or Lugh had done, but because our adopting Lugh had apparently strained relations with the neighbors, who didn't want a "dangerous" dog living next door. We were crushed, and our resolve to buy our own house was strengthened. Was it a coincidence that we learned about Gryphon the same day we closed on our house?

Gryphon is bonding beautifully with us. I'm surprised at how swiftly and easily it's happening. We've set him to a routine to increase his sense of safety, and we're spending as much time as possible giving him exercise, love, and attention. This fall we'll begin obedience classes. We'll slowly transition him to the homemade diet we feed our dogs. Molly's "Animal Wellness" flower essences are wonderful allies, and Gryphon, Adonis, and I are all taking the "New Beginnings" essence. Soon we'll have a ritual to welcome him formally to our family. And this weekend he'll get his first bath.

Last night during our evening walk, we approached a group of children outside a small daycare center in our neighborhood. We were soon surrounded by six small children and the proprietor, a woman who proudly announced that she was grandma to two pitbulls. Gryphon stood patiently while the children petted him and asked questions, even if he was more interested in grazing on the grass. A man who I think was the son of the daycare provider and father to a couple of the children came over and showed his daughters again how to approach a strange dog (first ask the owner's permission, then let the dog sniff your hand, then stroke gently under the chin; never pat the dog on the head). He asked me questions about whether we'd rescued the dog and where we'd found him. As we moved on, the man said to me, "it's a good thing you did." I'm so used to encountering fear and anger from strangers about pit bulls that I almost started crying in gratitude.

Then we arrived home to a friend who'd come over with treats and toys to play with Gryphon. Lucky dog. Lucky us.

Baptism

2008-08-25T13:28:00.006-04:00

(The Guardian [Queen] of Water from the Gaian Tarot, by Joanna Powell Colbert)

Still no internet connection at the new homestead, so blogging hasn't been possible. That should change today. Also, things have been a bit hectic while trying to get settled in the new house.

My dad called Sunday morning and said, "is it true that you're not going to baptize your kid?" Oh boy. Talking to my mom later that morning, she said, oh yeah, he's really upset about that, he keeps saying "that's the final straw, I'm disowning her." (What you need to know about my blustery but very loving parents: they would never disown me. Dad threatened to disown me for having a child outside of legal wedlock, but then he helped us with the down payment for our new house, so you can see how that goes. They adore Adonis, and my mom says that we have the best marriage of anyone she knows--except for the part where we're not married.) Both my parents would prefer that we have the baby baptized. My sister, who is a formidable advocate for us, told them that I wasn't going to do things the way they would have me do them, so they just have to suck it up and let it go. My mom is actually kind of adjusting to this idea. Oh but it's difficult for me, the oldest and always a good girl, to "let them down" by doing things my own way.

Why not baptize the baby? Well, there is the obvious reason that Christianity is not my religion anymore. But that's not my main reason. I would even consider baptizing my baby for my parents' sake if I could get past the symbolism of baptism. Yet I believe strongly in the symbolic value of ritual, and how ritual enactment in part constitutes reality. The ritual message of baptism is this: human beings are born innately sinful, in pain and blood from a woman's body, products of a sinful act; being born human, from sexual intercourse, and of a woman necessitates purification, the cleansing with holy water. And to this I say, bullshit. Human beings are not innately sinful. To be born in the midst of blood, sweat, shit, and ecstasy is a holy thing.

I like the idea of an elemental blessing. I imagine that at a Wiccaning or Pagan baby naming ceremony, though I've never attended one, the child is blessed with earth and fire, water and air. In becoming human we become one with the elements, and to enact that symbolically seems a good thing. So we'll have a ceremony, and there will be a sacred cup filled with water, but the ritual will be something altogether other than a Christian baptism.

Moving II

2008-08-12T17:40:00.004-04:00

I'm sitting on the couch in my old apartment as two strapping young college men load all of my worldly belongings into a truck. They're working their butts off, bless them. I jokingly offered them my CD player from 1989 (it still works! I bought it after my first year of college!), but they declined. Now it occurs to me that my CD player may be older than they are.

Oh, now one of them is carrying the bedside table I've owned since 1974. (I was 4 when I got it.)

I live with a geek

2008-08-12T09:02:00.002-04:00

One of the first things I heard this morning, while still lying in bed:

"What the hell happened? My light saber application crashed my iPhone!"

Goddess avatar

2008-08-10T09:08:00.002-04:00

Here's my Goddess avatar. You can make one, too, here. (Thanks, Grian/Lee. And thanks to Terri, whose first I spied.) Why yes, that really is a baby in my belly. I feel at least as surprised as it looks.

Moving

2008-08-09T21:02:00.005-04:00

We're packing. And painting at the new house. Well, I'm not supposed to be painting, low-VOC paints or no. I did a lot of the taping around molding and doors, prior to the painting. Adonis and a friend primed the walls in two bedrooms and the upstairs hallway in our new house. I packed all afternoon back at the apartment. I pack in a very organized, methodical manner, and it takes me forever to get anything done. I'm also easily overwhelmed. Adonis blitzes; he's very efficient and doesn't worry too much about organization. He unloaded dozens of boxes from the attic this evening; I sorted through them and decided what to keep, recycle, trash, send to the library book sale. I'd say that we make a good team, but he gets way more done than I do. For this post, I asked him whether I was actually contributing anything. He replied, "you're doing a lot, and you're gestating." So there's that.

We're so happy about the new house. I have a gazillion ideas for it.

Now it's night and we're sitting side-by-side on the couch amidst the boxes, him playing poker on his iPhone, me typing away on my iBook, eating blueberries.

Movers come on Tuesday.

Making my own way

2008-08-07T09:40:00.004-04:00

I come from a highly opinionated people. It's a joke in my family--and at the same time completely true--that we each think we're right and others are wrong. About anything. Always.

For a long time I was part of a profession--academic philosophy--that encouraged the formation of strong opinions, carefully defended to the death. I wrote an academic and political blog, back in the early days. It had a fairly large readership, for those days. Many of my cohort from early blogging are still writing, doing excellent work, and establishing and maintaining high profiles. I commend them. But I rarely read them, and I even more rarely envy them. For me to write that blog, I had to work myself into a state of righteous outrage on an almost daily basis. That was my fuel. Much of the rest of the time I was depressed. It didn't work for me.

I used to argue politics all the time. Hell, I was professionally trained to argue. I loved it. But I burnt out. Now, I even sit out on political discussions among friends. I don't gather data. I don't try to defend any views. The whole concept of reasoned argument, which used to be my raison d'etre and my holy grail, bores me. I still respect reason, but it has assumed a more, shall we say, balanced and reasonable place in my life.

Part of what I had to learn--thank you, mystery school--is just how unhappy I was making myself by clinging forcefully to my beliefs and my conviction that they were right, that I was right. It's as if I was holding my worldview tightly, clinging to it desperately, when what I really needed was to wear it more lightly. That's a practice. I'm working on it.

Of course, as is the way with families, it still drives me absolutely freakin' crazy when someone in my family refuses to entertain the thought that just because I'm doing something differently from the way they would do it, it doesn't mean that I'm wrong, where wrong gets cashed out as "naive, misguided, idealistic, romantic, potentially harmful." I am idealistic and romantic. Really, it's just who I am. (My part of fortune lies at 30 Aquarius, for Goddess' sake.) But that doesn't make me hopelessly ineffective in the world, unrealistic, unreasonable--though according to my family's running narrative, it does.

You know how having a baby can make everyone around you crazy? Like everyone has a gazillion opinions and horror stories and they need to know the sex right now? And why don't you want to know the sex right now? And oh, aren't you cute and young and naive, you have no idea how much work it's going to be raising a child? (Do you know how much work it is getting a Ph.D. if you haven't tried? No? I didn't think so. Bite me.) I think that as these things go, I'm getting off pretty easy. Maybe it'll get worse as I get more visibly pregnant. But I live in a community where people don't automatically freak out if you say the words "home birth," where there is some acceptance of trying things a different way. (Only in the United States, where something like 97% of births take place in hospitals, is "home birth" a weird thing.) I think my family is showing admirable restraint so far. But I've been pretty clear with them that I don't want their fear to mask and express itself as concern that I don't want what's best for my kid, my partner, me. Because they really do know me better than that.

So here, just for the record, are some ways in which Adonis and I plan to parent our kid, things that might bother some people, Goddess bless them.

Non-medicalized prenatal care from our awesome midwife; no ultrasound or prenatal testing unless deemed medically necessary
Home labor and birth (my sister will be there; she's attended a home birth before)
No baptism
Wiccaning (we plan to give the kid a Wiccan name to use until s/he comes of age and chooses a her or his own magical name)
The kid will have my surname (my family is actually fine with this)
With dogs as integral members of the family, not accessories
Celebrating the sabbats and esbats

You know, crazy stuff.

As you can see, it's all pretty abstract. We don't know who it is who'll be joining our family, so we just have to wait and see. We're flexible. I think that will serve us well.

Edited to add: Oh yeah, I forgot to mention the big one. Unmarried, we are, as a matter of principle.

Links on the UU church shooting

2008-07-30T12:08:00.004-04:00

Shakesville has a moving first-person account of the shooting at the Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church last Sunday morning. Melissa McEwan has (as always) excellent commentary on the shooting as a domestic terrorist attack, and violent, eliminationist rhetoric in the mainstream conservative movement. The gunman, whose stated motive was hatred of liberals and gays, had also years previously threatened the life of his ex-wife, a member of the church.

(You can go here to send messages of love and support to the church.)

Thoughts on a Pagan ethic: guilt and gratitude

2008-07-29T22:53:00.002-04:00

(1) We have a way of structuring our moral lives, in the dominant U.S. culture at least, that makes no sense: thinking of things in terms of "deserving" or "not deserving." This musty old moralism is an artifact of Protestantism, perhaps ("work hard and you'll get what you deserve"), or even of the Old Testament ("an eye for an eye"). These moral categories may cause various familiar affective problems--a misplaced sense of guilt and entitlement, for example. But another kind of problem--we might call it an ontological problem--is that these categories of desert fail to describe reality. In a world where the distribution of wealth, luck, and opportunities is so disparate, it doesn't make any sense to say that we get what we deserve.

(2) I'm someone who is inclined to feel guilty for her many blessings, as long as I'm thinking in terms of desert (deserving). Gratitude is tainted for me if I feel like I don't deserve what I have. And how could I deserve what I have, when so much of it comes down to luck? Many opportunities have come to me because I benefit from unfair systems of privilege, for example, because I am white in a racist society, or because I was born into the middle class in the United States in the late 20th century, when we lived on resources ransomed from the future. Why should I have so much when others don't? When I think in terms of desert--and inevitably I think that way--I feel nearly paralyzed with guilt.

(3) Guilt in most, if not all circumstances is a useless feeling. It's a form of moral disempowerment.

(4) How do I escape the labyrinth of guilt? I need a new way of thinking about the things I have. I used to think that there had to be a way of eschewing privilege, as if I could refuse to be white in this racist society, or as if it would be a good thing to turn down the chance for a university education. I still hold to this idea in some ways; I refuse to marry, for example, in part because it seems to me an exercise of unjust privilege. (Whether I'm cutting off my nose to spite society's face remains to be seen. And it's not as if I give up heterosexual privilege by refusing to marry my male partner. Hell, most people assume we're married anyway. )

(5) One of the characters in Widdershins says it this way: "accept the gifts that you're offered." There may be extrinsic reasons to accept those gifts; doing so may put you in a better position to help others, for example. But I believe there are intrinsic reasons, too, to accept gifts graciously and lovingly offered. The character who says to accept gifts also believes in doing good without thought of recompense. We might also accept kindnesses without feelings of obligation, of needing to pay anything back. Perhaps it is a better thing to say, humbly, thank you.

(6) The power to effect good lies in being a good steward of whatever gifts we're given. We are all of us surrounded with blessings. As a Wiccan I feel strongly how the earth offers Herself up freely to us, how She provides us with all of our needs. What shall we do? How shall we act? We shall guard and nurture the gift, rather than squander it.

(7) This is the idea I'm trying on in place of guilt: to be a good steward of my many blessings; to treat my fellow beings as worthy of respect, integrity, and love; to guard and protect, and to make wise use of that which has been given to me. In other words, to live in balance with the blessings. To live in accord.

Lunations

2008-07-28T11:05:00.004-04:00

I spent the weekend in a workshop studying astrological lunations. Lunations are roughly 29-year cycles divided into 8 phases (like the 8 phases of the moon) of 3+ years. An individual's cycles depend on what phase of the moon s/he's born under and the progression each year of the natal sun and moon (the natal sun progressing about 1 degree per year and the natal moon progressing about 1 degree per month); where sun and moon come together on the same degree of the zodiac, that's the new moon.

For example, I was born under a last quarter moon in 1970; my first new moon occurred right after I turned six, in 1976. My second new moon occurred in 2005, and I'm nearing the end of that phase, moving into a crescent moon phase early next year. Each 3+ year phase has a different energy, so it's interesting and useful to track the events of one's life via the moon cycles in order to reach a better understanding of what was happening when and why.

In short, studying lunations is one way to study the energetic cycles in a life and to get a "big-picture," relatively impersonal view of the events in that life. The Sabian symbol for each new moon is like a book title describing the 29-30 years covered by that volume of one's life. The first volume of my life was marked by Pisces 17; title: "An Easter Promenade." There I see the symbolism of traditional religion, of crucifixion and resurrection, and of stately walking in one's best apparel. The title of the current volume is Aries 16: "Browning dancing in the twilight." I love the magical feeling of this symbol, the picture of the elementals dancing in liminal space.

I began the mystery school and this blog is 2005, with the dawning of my dark moon.

Ten things

2008-07-24T11:23:00.003-04:00

Ten things that are making me happy these days:

1. My partner, who never ceases to delight me,
2. The nervous new pit bull at the SPCA last week who curled up on my lap and went to sleep,
3. Raspberries and cherries from the local farms,
4. Swimming in the cold, lush, green gorges, under the waterfalls,
5. The Gaian Tarot eights,
6. My prenatal yoga class with the best yoga teacher in town (who teaches only prenatal now, so I had to get knocked up to join her class),
7. Dancing at the Saturday evening outdoor concerts,
8. My appetite,
9. Dreaming about new gardens,
10. Anticipating closing on our house one week from today!

The temple of Artemis

2008-07-23T13:52:00.004-04:00

A year ago I was meditating here.

These are ruins of the temple of Artemis near Ephesus, in present-day Turkey. The temple was one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. It was the home of the famous many-breasted (or bull-testicled) statue of Artemis.

On the day I visited, there were several men selling reproductions of the statue, set up on tables near the ruins. Though I'd tried to haggle over prices (it's expected) throughout my time in Turkey, I'd also kept to the practice of not bargaining over the price of magical tools. (I'd purchased a knife to use as an athame and several goddess statues.) I picked up the statue that called to me and asked the man, "how much?" "Dollars, euros, or lira?" "Dollars," I replied, thinking of the $10 bill I had in my pocket. "$10," he said. Done.

The temple grounds were ringed with blessed thistle, which made me think of the epithet Thalia Took assigns to Artemis, "defend your boundaries!" I sat at the foot of the column you see here and meditated, surrounded by a few friends. Someone snapped a photo of us. A friend commented later on how it was the fertile women in our class--those of us still bleeding and hoping to have children--who had meditated in the temple, gathered around the column, while the rest of our class explored the grounds. Artemis is a guardian of children and animals, and She is traditionally invoked by women in labor as a Midwife.

Much has changed in my life since I sat meditating at the temple a year ago. The Mother took our beloved Lugh, something we can't pretend to understand but which we know happened as it should. I invoked Artemis on Lugh's behalf, several times, and I will invoke Her again as we adopt other dogs. I've invoked Her in her Amazon aspect on my sister's behalf, as she faced breast cancer. And in six months it will be my turn to invoke Her in childbirth.

She has accompanied me since before I knew I was a Witch, at least since I was an voracious young feminist, if not since I was a child who loved the wild places. And there is something of Her in me: guardian and fierce protector.

Your typical pregnant, Pagan summer

2008-07-21T18:58:00.004-04:00

I've finally emerged from the exhaustion and nausea that accompanied my first trimester. It feels so good to be able to stay awake after work, do things on the weekends, and even enjoy a meal! The last few weekends have been lovely idylls with Adonis--the farmers' market, brunches with friends, swimming in the gorges, going to the movies, Saturday night picnics and outdoor concerts. We've also begun packing our apartment; movers are scheduled to come in three weeks to move us into our new house. I'm glad we're enjoying the beautiful summer, even with all the change swirling around us.

I've been reading Kim Antieau's novels and, on Joanna's suggestion, I've begun reading Charles de Lint. Adonis and I have become big fans of "Mad Men," and I was delighted to find a couple of familiar Witches keeping an obsessive blog about the show. And of course, we're watching and rewatching Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog (fan blog here). Aren't you?

Midsummer

2008-06-19T15:33:00.004-04:00

I've lived most of my life in the northern United States, so I'm accustomed to the long summer evenings around solstice. (When I was a kid, I lived far, far west in the eastern time zone, so it didn't get dark till around 10 p.m.) Now that I'm pregnant, I'm in bed every night by nine, and the sky is still light. Strange. It feels like being a kid again.

Twice in my life I've spent the summer solstice far north of this, once crossing the Baltic Sea by ferry from Sweden to Russia, and once on the shores of Lithuania. In both places, the sun doesn't fall below the horizon the whole night. I remember waking in the middle of the night to peer from my porthole, to watch the strange northern sun hover high above the horizon. And I remember drinking beer in large groups around bonfires in Lithuania, skinny dipping in the cold water before huddling back into our rough Polish sweaters, and stumbling to bed early in the morning.

This weekend's celebrations include a city-wide festival that begins tonight with a fantastic parade, and my ordination on Saturday. It's cool, damp, and gray here, not much like midsummer, but that means the strawberry season will last longer (unless it's too wet), and I won't sweat through the ceremony this weekend. Maybe it will even be cool enough to have a solstice bonfire in the fireplace.

The liminality of the Beltane season gives way to the fullness of Litha. Gather your herbs, leave out cream for the fairies, build your fires high, and dance the sun to sleep. Merry midsummer!

Blessings

2008-06-15T13:22:00.003-04:00

It has been an inward season for me, even as the world has burst forth in bud, bloom, and green. I'm astonished that it's almost Midsummer, and almost my ordination day. I'm pressing my dress and shawl (the one John brought from India this winter), and polishing my silver pentacle (the one Adonis brought me from Arcata) in preparation for the day. My ordination as a minister of healing arts is strictly speaking non-sectarian, but I'm pledged to the Goddess, and this is another rite of passage on that journey. I'm terribly proud of myself, and tremendously grateful.

There is an old poem that speaks of blessings raining down like blossoms. That is what life has felt like. I'm pregnant; our baby is due at the winter solstice. We conceived six months to the day after our beloved Lugh crossed over. And we've finally found our house: a sweet old house with beautiful gardens that border those of a friend--she's already suggested that we build a stone circle where our yards meet--four blocks from where we live now, in a vibrant downtown neighborhood. We move in August. Adonis is making plans for the birthing room; so far my contribution has been to order prayer flags to hang over the altar.

I've been spending a lot of time in bed, as much as I'm able, and I've been drawn to reread novels that are spiritually important to me: so far, Prodigal Summer by Barbara Kingsolver and The Mists of Avalon (though I can never bear to read the last 200 pages, after Arthur's duel in the realm of fairy). If you have suggestions for novels that have been importantly to you spiritually as a Pagan, please leave them here.

The lioness, 1910-2008

2008-05-09T11:55:00.003-04:00

This Beltane season has been beautifully liminal for me, for several reasons. I'm holding that liminal space in my body and breath.

Last night around 9 p.m. my beloved grandmother passed beyond the veil. She was 98 years old. She died holding the hands of both her daughters, my mother and my aunt, who talked her over and beyond. It was a peaceful death.

She had been dying for several weeks. I got to see her two weeks ago, to tell her I loved her and to hear her say that she loved me. My grandma was a formidable woman, someone who taught me unconditional love, the kind of love I can feel in my bones. Dying, she was radiant with light. I held her hands, then her feet. I watched her face. I sensed the presence around her, knew that our ancestors were holding her, waiting for her to join them. I expect she'll be one of the first I see when it's my turn to cross over the threshold again.

About a week ago, she had a vision of the Mother--for her, Mary. She called out, "Mother!" At her bedside, my mom said, "is it your mother?" Grandma shook her head. "Is it Jesus's mother?" Grandma nodded. My mother was slightly appalled, also amused; Lutherans don't believe in the divinity of Mary. But I know Whom she saw.

One of the last things she said was, "life goes by too fast."

Blessings, safe passage, and safe return, beloved one.

Merry Beltane!

2008-04-30T13:43:00.005-04:00

(Photo from the Lawrence University Pagan Organization)

Blessings of fertility and love to all my friends in the northern hemisphere. (And in case Terri in Johannesburg stops by, Samhain blessings for you!)

This holy day and liminal time honors the quickening of desire, the impulse toward life. We honor all forms of sexual love, as well as the love among friends and family and love for the earth and all her inhabitants. May all beings be happy.

Today find a way to honor your deepest longings, and to rejoice in your abundant blessings. May all beings be loved.

Got Bit - the memoir meme

2008-04-29T21:33:00.003-04:00

Stewgad is my very good friend in real life, which means I never read her blog. It turns out that sometimes she reads my blog, so I feel a little bit bad about not reading hers. If she hadn't told me last night when I was over at her house that she'd tagged me for this meme, I'd never have heard about it.

The meme is the "six-word memoir," which as you may know by now is a challenge to write your life's story in six words. This meme is inspired by a recent book that collects people's six-word memoirs, called Not Quite What I Was Planning. I actually like that as my six-word memoir, but I'll try to exercise a little more creativity here.

But I'm still going to cheat. My memoir comes in two volumes, each with its own six-word title.

Volume I is Tried to Be Someone Else Entirely. Volume II is Gave Up, Followed My Heart Instead.

(Feel inspired? Haven't done this yet? Then consider yourself tagged.)

Desire's end, part II

2008-04-20T20:51:00.000-04:00

A couple of months ago, a grumpy old guy named Billy visited this blog and apropos of nothing except the blog's name left this comment:

Hey, there is no end to desire. We have been at that for billions of years.

The whole cosmos is nothing other than sexual energies, it's just in our human forms that it gets all messed up.

So maybe he didn't get the reference to the Charge of the Goddess, or maybe he didn't care, but the thing is, I agree with him. Desire seems to be a fundamental operating principle of the universe. As such, it seems perverse to wish for or anticipate its end.

Feri tradition tells a creation myth in which the Goddess gazes into a mirror and, falling in love with herself, gives birth to the universe. It seems to me at least a lovely metaphor, and I think more than that, to say that longing is what draws us into this world (the parents' desire for each other and for a child, the soul's desire to incarnate). Longing lures us through life, however messy and complicated, and it beckons to us from beyond the veil. How unfortunate it would be, then, to deny the power of this longing, to try to make ourselves, as if we could, beings without desire.

Yet we do just that. We deny ourselves all kinds of pleasure, including the pleasure of simply feeling our desires. Think about the fundamental things humans long for: food, water, shelter, touch, sex, companionship, beauty, comfort, meaning, creativity, expression, and connection to the world around us. Which of these isn't affected by practices of self-denial and wishing things were otherwise? How often do we fear that our wanting something will be too painful, that our desires will languish unfulfilled, and so we cut ourselves off from the wanting? What would it mean if instead we allowed ourselves fully to inhabit our desires, to know them intimately, to know ourselves intimately? Is it too much of a risk? What are we risking? And what do we lose if we don't taste the depths of those things we want?

I know my own litany of fear runs like this. I won't get what I want. I want too much, and that means there's something wrong with me. I don't deserve to want or receive things. I'll be judged. I'll be rejected. My needs can never be met. I'll have to give too much of myself away. It will be too painful. I don't want to be needy. I don't want to risk being disappointed. If I "give in" to my desires, they'll overwhelm me, or someone else. I'm powerless in the face of them. I'll hurt someone. I'll be consumed by them. I'll lose control. I'll feel empty, isolated, alone.

In a puritanical culture, whence come many of these fears, desire is something to be kept under tight control if not altogether annihilated. It's an unseemly artifact of our animal natures. We identify desire with women, in whom it's deemed uncontrollable. Like the feminine, it needs to be mastered. Desire leaves us vulnerable and exposed. We feel its tremors, and we turn away.

What would it be like if instead of trying to master, ignore, or squelch desire, we rode its currents instead? What if we became intimate with not just the contents or objects of our desires, but with the very shape, texture, and taste of desire itself? What if we allowed ourselves to dive deep into the wanting? What if we sat with desire and allowed it to unfold within us, to reveal its layers and secrets, to discover what's underneath the ripples of surface longing?

What if we were honest with each other about our desires? What if, instead of furtively confessing, we boldly stated, explored, investigated, and celebrated them? What if we stopped being coy and embarrassed? What would it mean to take responsibility for desire in the full context of that desire? To work skillfully with it? What if we acknowledged and accepted that we're desirous beings and got to know ourselves as such?

Buddhism on desire

2008-04-17T22:46:00.002-04:00

Buddhist meditation launches an individual headlong into a curious yet rigorous examination of desire. Overly simplistic formulations of Buddhist philosophy make many folks think that desire is a bad thing, plain and simple. But the true Buddhist perspective on the all-too-human experience called desire--whether it's hunger for a slice of pepperoni pizza, longing for world peace, or just some good old-fashioned lust--is much more nuanced. Ultimately speaking, Buddhism takes the perspective that desire is 100 percent natural and incredibly positive. The problem, however, is that unchecked fear and unexamined habit can pervert desire into addictive tendencies--habits which are destructive for an individual, harmful for a community, and disastrous for our planet. What Buddhist meditation necessarily reveals to us, moment by moment, is the problematic nature of our impulse for instant gratification.

(Ethan Nichtern)

An interlude on desire and coming back

2008-04-16T20:05:00.003-04:00

I.

I'm bound by the fire.
I'm bound by the beauty.
I'm bound by desire.
I'm bound by the duty.

I'm coming back in 500 years,
and the first thing I'm gonna do
when I get back here
is to see these things I love.
And they'd better be here.

First I'm going to find a forest,
and stand there in the trees,
and kiss the fragrant forest floor,
and lie down in the leaves,
and listen to the birds sing
the sweetest song you'll ever hear.

And everything the dappled,
everything the birds,
everything the earthness,
everything the verdant,
the verdant green.
(Jane Siberry)

II.

A thousand years from now, everyone you know will be long dead and forgotten. There'll be nothing left of the life you love, no evidence that you ever walked this planet. That, at least, is what the fundamentalist materialists would have you believe. But suppose the truth is very different? What if in fact every little thing you do subtly alters the course of world history? What if your day-to-day decisions will actually help determine how the human species navigates its way through the epic turning point we're living through? And finally, what if you will be alive in a thousand years, reincarnated into a fresh body and in possession of the memories of the person you were back in this era? These are my hypotheses. These are my prophecies. Which is why I say: Live as if your soul is eternal.

(Rob Brezny)

Desire's end, part I

2008-04-15T21:28:00.001-04:00

In Atlanta this past weekend, visiting my friend Scrivener for his birthday, I met Rahim and his partner, both of whom I took to immediately. Rahim asked me about the name of this blog. While I wrote a bit about it way back in the beginning, I've been meaning to revisit the concept of desire. My belief in the goodness of human desire is one thing that drew me to Wicca. So it may seem strange, on the face of it, that (what I take to be) a central and singular text of our thealogy, the Charge of the Goddess, declares that the divine is that which is attained at desire's end. It sounds a little like a common misunderstanding about Buddhism: that to be holy, to reach enlightenment, we must rid ourselves of our desires. I don't think Buddhism teaches that, and I don't think the Charge does, either. But it does pose a puzzle--perhaps a Wiccan koan--and I'd like to worry it a little.

The Charge of the Goddess is a poem written, or channeled, by Doreen Valiente. (The text I quote here is Starhawk's adaptation.) The Charge has much to say about the primacy of desire in human experience. For example,

Sing, feast, dance, make music and love, all in my Presence, for Mine is the ecstasy of the spirit and Mine also is joy on earth. For My love is law unto all beings.

Let My worship be in the heart that rejoices, for behold, all acts of love and pleasure are My rituals.

The Pagani tend to like a good time: feasting, drinking, dancing naked around bonfires, singing, drumming, dressing in costume, joking, pulling pranks. Oh, and the sex. Pagans, generally speaking, have sex-positive, libertarian, and libertine values around sex. Sex, like other expressions and experiences of embodiment, is a sacred part of our spirituality (sacred, that is, when it's not profane, if that's what turns you on).

But while we often emphasize the fun aspects of human embodiment--the acts of pleasure--a well-developed Wiccan thealogy, I believe, would also express the sacraments of our bodies sick and in pain; scarred from trauma or abuse; aging, dying. What matters is being present in our bodies, and that can be as difficult during acts of pleasure as it can be when we're in pain. A worthwhile practice for any Pagan, and really anyone at all, I believe, is to practice being present in one's own body. Such presence can be cultivated in various ways: breath work, body work, meditation, yoga, and ritual.

Sickness, pain, and death aren't signs of our fallen nature, as at least some versions of Christianity would have it. From a thealogical perspective, it doesn't make sense to long to be free from our bodies anymore than we long to be free of this earth. (And part of being Pagan, I believe, is to take pleasure in the earth, really to love it, know it, treat it with respect, and give thanks for its abundant gifts.) Reincarnation makes a lot of sense to me as an expression of Pagan thealogy; hey, we get to come back. Reincarnation with the hopeful goal of finally getting off the wheel, of being free from incarnation, makes no sense to me at all.

What then do we make of the final line of the Charge?

For behold, I have been with you from the beginning, and I am That which is attained at the end of desire.

Where is the end of desire? Does it happen in death? When we get to heaven? When we reunite with the oneness of the universe? When we reach enlightenment? When we're really lucky...and thank goddess we don't have to feel the tug of these human bodies anymore? Is the end of desire a desirable state, something we should pursue or at least look forward to? Desire seems essential to being human, in a body, and that is something we Pagani hold sacred. So why is the end something to be attained?

Good things

2008-04-09T23:17:00.004-04:00

(1) By all indicators, my sister is now cancer-free for a second time. If you knew my sister, you'd know that cancer picked the wrong girl to fuck with.

(2) ~~Adonis and I have a house under contract. We're keeping our fingers crossed until after the inspection this weekend.~~ The house didn't pass inspection, so it's back to house-hunting.

(3) I fly south tomorrow and back on Monday, and I'm not booked with American Airlines.

Spiritual teachers

2008-04-08T21:17:00.002-04:00

I consider myself lucky to have had many spiritual teachers in my life so far. I joke that if it weren't for the Jews and the lesbians, I'd be nowhere, spiritually speaking. Most of my teachers have been Jewish, queer women, or both. Of course, there are the exceptions. The Lutheran pastors of my youth were straight, male, and, well, Lutheran midwesterners, of German or Scandinavian descent. Wonderful, compassionate men, they really were spiritual teachers. (Note to evangelical Christians: I'm not one of those alleged Pagans who was alienated from the church thanks to the failings of its people.) One of the finest teachers I've ever had was Lugh, who as far as I could ascertain was neither Jewish nor lesbian, those being human classifications, and he being a pit bull.

I live in a town with a sizable population of Tibetan Buddhists (both Tibetan and American, and many of the Americans are also, uh, Jewish). Thus Tibetan Buddhism has had a significant impact on my spiritual life. I began studying Buddhism, eclectically and largely on my own, around the time I turned 30 and was preparing for my Ph.D. qualifying exams, i.e., going through hell. I also began studying yoga, and the attendant Hinduism, while I was in graduate school, a few years before I commenced my study of Buddhism. Yoga renewed my spiritual alliance to my body, thus laying some of the groundwork for Wicca.

One of my current teachers is a white, Italian-American Buddhist who grew up working-class and Roman Catholic in the South, a very spiritual, feminist woman with a mouth on her like a sailor. Goddess bless America.

None of my "real life" spiritual teachers have been Wiccans or Pagans. I consider some Pagan writers also to be my teachers, Starhawk--yeah, Jewish--most notably among them, but those aren't people I have relationships with in my day-to-day life. I sometimes worry that as a young group of faiths, we lack spiritual depth or maturity--I'm not sure what the correct term is, and I'm not sure really how to express my point. I know Pagan writers whose thinking I admire, but where are our role models for spiritual maturity? I'm not saying they don't exist, just that I don't really know who they are. Some Pagan writers, a couple of decades older than I--people whose work, I stress, has been important to me--don't strike me as the kind of people I want to be. I'm not saying that a teacher has to be perfect at all. Indeed, I believe perfection is antithetical to any genuine spiritual path. But I want my teachers to have qualities that I admire and want to cultivate in myself. I want to see a journey that compels me to follow suit in my own way. I suspect that some of our finest spiritual role models aren't public figures, and that I just don't have the good fortune to know them.

I treasure my eclectic, syncretic, American spiritual upbringing, and I have a happy spiritual home in Wicca. I would like for some of my spiritual teachers or role models to have a room in that same home.

Who are your spiritual teachers and role models? Who are the people from your faith tradition whom you admire?

What makes us wise

2008-04-06T15:17:00.003-04:00

Today is the first day it's been warm--in the high 50s--and sunny. After spending the morning cleaning house, Adonis and I spent two hours walking around the neighborhood: getting mochas at the coffee shop, stopping to talk with friends and neighbors working in yards, assessing the little house for sale that we have our eye on, pausing to love up the neighborhood dogs. It finally feels like spring. (How I long for a garden and dogs! My dad cautions us not to buy a house just because we want dogs, but of course that's exactly why we're buying a house. Oh, and it's a good investment. Unlike most places in the U.S., my little town hasn't been hit by the housing and mortgage crises. Prices continue to climb. Why do people move here? Don't they know winter is six months long?)

Tomorrow is the new moon in Aries. Even as the cold days have lingered here in the north, I've felt the shift in energy that early spring brings. I'm moving more, working off winter's lethargy, and feeling stronger, more vital. I have a renewed taste for raw, bitter, green things. I'm starved for sunshine. Adonis and I seem to occupy the slightest lull, a suspension, before the activity of summer commences. Beginning this week, we're both traveling. Adonis is headed to New York City a couple of times for work; I'm headed to Atlanta to do healing work and visit my good friend; and we're traveling home together at the end of the month to celebrate my grandmother's 98th birthday.

I've been thinking a lot about happiness. This past year has been challenging for me: lots of intense growth and new life emerging, but also, and perhaps not coincidentally nor paradoxically, stark confrontations with mortality and grief. It's been just six months since I lost my beloved Lugh. On that very six month date, last week, my sister had cancer surgery (and is doing well). I'm learning something about the kind of happiness that depends on things going my way, and about the kind of happiness that can arise independently of felicitous circumstances. I'm thinking about happiness as a spiritual practice and what that entails for me. I often dream of that lyric from Sinead O'Connor's song "What Doesn't Belong to Me;" I take this to be a profound thealogical truth:

And the goddess meant for me only joy.

Rising up out of the ocean*

2008-03-17T09:55:00.004-04:00

I had a wonderful, amazing, powerful weekend at the mystery school. I'm only three months away from my ordination! (Or, a quarter turn of the wheel away--this week is Ostara, and I get ordained at the summer solstice.) My class meets officially as a group only one more weekend between now and then. I can't believe how close we are.

There are still several weekends to assist, plus a weekend-long astrology class (optional, so not all my classmates will be there), and a weekend-long integral anatomy class (also optional for my class, since we had anatomy in our second year, but the format for the anatomy class changes a lot each year, so it's always worth going). I'm also traveling in April to work with a "healee" who lives far from here.

My friend John brought me a beautiful orange silk scarf back from India (and a cd of the Gayatri mantra); I intend to wear the scarf for my ordination. John has been a true friend on my journey; a "tree guy" and a radical faerie, he encouraged my interest in Paganism back when I thought I was nuts, gave me my first deck of tarot cards, and has taught me a lot about dog-love.

I've been thinking a lot about "next steps," since this is my fourth and final year as a student at the mystery school. (I will continue to assist for at least another year.) I've almost made the decision to enroll in a six-month apprenticeship program in herbalism, pending financial discussion with my sweet and generous partner. That would begin in May. And I'm seriously considering applying to Cherry Hill for the fall.

I'm so excited by new plans and opportunities. Aries must be right around the corner!

(*The title for this post comes from the Sabian symbol for 1 degree Aries.)

For your reading pleasure

2008-03-13T20:37:00.004-04:00

There is so much good writing happening out there right now by the Pagani of the blogosphere. Here is some of what I've been reading over the past few days.

Dianne Sylvan on the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves, our own personal mythos

Hecate on how one crone thinks about that maiden-, bunny-, egg-holiday, Ostara

Angela-Eloise on sacred sex--her post is wide-ranging and pulls together a lot of ideas, so that description hardly does it justice, and she links to lots of other good stuff

Hawk on past lives and what he's learned from observing his three children

Lunaea Weatherstone on making the present day, the present moment sacred (also just a great story about Santa Cruz)

Cat Chapin-Bishop gets itchy about Eat, Pray, Love (the comments are excellent, too)

Sia has two excellent posts on the Spitzer scandal, one highlighting the importance of rights and protections for sex workers, the other on sex addiction.

Whew! Happy reading!

A prayer for Ostara

2008-03-13T09:22:00.005-04:00

i'm clear that this world belongs to no one in particular and everyone deserves bread, and quiet, breath, and water. i'm clear that those who order death and those who steal and dominate with bad policy have sold out their humanity. i'm clear the only thing which appeases the most crucial witness (the innerself of conscience) is contrition for oppression, renunciation of excess, avowal against a lethal apathy.

the work is to be alive for the living. to foster growth. to make again a garden of this place.

(Elizabeth Roberts, We'Moon '08, p. 64)

Mantra

2008-03-12T20:56:00.000-04:00

Allow things to be as they are.

The things you hear...

2008-03-12T13:33:00.002-04:00

Lots of folks--everyone, it seems--were at PantheaCon (not I), and Evn has a list of "things you hear only at PantheaCon." This is why I love my people.

"The difference is, that's science fiction, and this is religion."

"We're Witches. Why can't we get an elevator here faster?"

"Wait! That cucumber's not consecrated."

"Third floor. Pirates."

"We can use the top of the ice chest for geomancy!"

"I've been writing since I was nine years old. Well, not the gay porn: that's relatively new."

For the whole list, go here.

Crazy desk meme

2008-03-12T08:57:00.003-04:00

A meme! I got tagged for a meme! I've been sitting over here in my little corner of the Pagan blogosphere, twiddling my thumbs, memeless, waiting. I didn't get tagged for the book meme. People, I work in the book business. (Perhaps I haven't mentioned that.) I am surrounded by books.

Anyway, Cosette has tagged me for the crazy desk meme, started by Evn at Lover of Strife. (New-to-me blog, looks like fun, fab header.) I'm not sure how interesting my one desk drawer at work is. I mean, I don't have a piece of the Berlin Wall rolling around in it. But I'll do my best. Here goes:

Open up your desk drawers. Rummage about. List ten things you find there. Tag five people.

1. Tom's of Maine cinnamint toothpaste (I love this flavor, Adonis hates it, so I keep it at work)
2. toothbrush
3. small glass jar of Real Salt (because all Witches keep salt in their desk? because I often bring hard boiled eggs for breakfast?)
4. hair brush
5. funky card with an Old Mermaid on it, saying "impossible is a word you humans use all too often"
6. Kukicha tea bags
7. canceled stamps from Singapore
8. replacement tape for the label maker
9. a box of retractable gel ink pens
10. rosemary lip balm made by some local folks

Tagged (but under no obligation): Joanna, Terri, Sia, Sonja, and Deborah

Healing, one definition

2008-03-11T20:41:00.003-04:00

I found this in the April edition of O Magazine:

"When we honestly ask which persons in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not-knowing, not-curing, not-healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness ...makes it clear that whatever happens in the external world, being present to each other is what really matters."

--Henri J. M. Nouwen

Working with "negative" emotions, living in this body - a beginning

2008-03-10T20:37:00.002-04:00

Two bloggers have recently made reference to my post, Heal this, in quite different and interesting contexts. (Why doesn't Blogger have Trackback, anyway? I mean, it's a lovely surprise to find a reference to one of my posts while I'm reading someone else's blog, but it would also be nice if the conversations were tracked for readers.)

Medusa asks with regard to the "Heal this": "Are frustration and anger part of a spiritual path? If so, what are their purposes?" I like that those are the questions that came to her while she was reading what I wrote, because I hadn't formulated them myself, but they're good questions. I mean, the answer has to be "yes," right, because those emotions are inevitably part of this being human. Yet I so often find myself trying to disavow such feelings, trying to cut them off or deny them, and wishing I didn't feel them. I know that healing and change come from acceptance and allowing those feelings to be, but how does one accept the "negative" emotions? What is the practice? And does Wicca have anything at all to say to these questions? Or do we have to turn to Buddhism?

Sia writes about taking care of oneself on the spiritual path in If you're such a Goddess, then why do you treat yourself like s%*t? She talks about the daily struggle to make healthy choices, a struggle I share. As I asked my therapist last week, why am I enchanted by choices that may feel good in the very short term but don't in the longer term? And why do I resist simple things that feel really good, like daily yoga practice?

Most of the cultural discourse around "health" is profoundly alienating to me, grounded as it is in a Protestant work ethic and Judeo-Christian ideas about sin and virtue. As I was saying to a friend recently, I long for new narratives. What would an earth-centered ethics of health and the body look like? There are already some answers out there. I see lots of Pagan bloggers thinking and writing about these things, working out their own ways to live ethically and healthfully. I welcome the discussion, encourage more, and want myself to experiment more with passionate, respectful, earthy, joyous, non-linear, earthwise ways of living in this body, on this land.

New moon in Pisces

2008-03-07T09:06:00.006-05:00

I assure you this won't turn into an astrology blog, but there have been some big astrological events lately--or at least they've been having a big impact on me. And there is just one more that I want to write about right now.

(One thing I love about Wicca and Paganism, at least as I think about them, is that they encourage reading the events of our lives like a literary text. Did you have the experience in high school where your English teacher would explain the symbolism in the book you were reading, or you would study various critical reviews of, I don't know, The Scarlet Letter, and someone--maybe even you--would complain, "yeah, right, how do you see all that in this book? We're just making this stuff up." Many people--maybe even me, at times--feel the same way about a magical worldview, about religion, about tarot, astrology and other kinds of divination. Did the bird that flew into the glass of my bedroom window [the only time it's ever happened in my seven years living in a window-filled, second-story apartment] on New Year's Day last year while Adonis and I were discussing getting pregnant really presage the miscarriage I had six weeks later? Was that event a symbol invested with meaning? Is it "okay" to read our lives that way? Sometimes I feel that if my life were a novel, the symbolism would be pretty heavy handed.)

I often think of astrology (and tarot) as a set of texts for interpreting human existence. Recently, I've talked about Pluto entering Capricorn and the lunar eclipse in Virgo. Today is the new moon, completing the lunar cycle and beginning another anew. The moon is in Pisces, as is the sun. I found the article by Simone Butler on Mooncircles to be particularly apt.

All addictions stem from the same root: feeling separate from Source. The Alcoholics Anonymous 12-step program succeeds because it teaches participants to give their problems over to a higher power. Making the connection to Source through prayer, meditation, or spending time in nature reminds us that we are one with all that is.

During most of March, with the sun in Pisces, a sign that rules both addiction and spiritual surrender, we're asked to awaken from our illusion of separation and jettison crippling habits that hold us back. February's solar eclipse on the 7th opened our wounds for healing, and the lunar eclipse on the 21st shone a bright light on the need to fix what's broken.

(Deborah Oak had a particularly harrowing wake-up call.)

Now, on March 7, Uranus the Awakener conjoins the New Moon in Pisces--a wake-up call for sure. In Pisces, the last sign of the zodiac, we merge with Source on our journey back home....

Trust is a key word for Pisces.... The Hopi say we're in a rushing river, that we should stop clinging to the shore and allow the current to bring us to the river's calm center.... Pisces demands surrender to "what is," rather than railing against what isn't. Surrender leads to the calm center within. Otherwise, you end up lost in your fears--and the endless cycle of addiction.

If you're feeling unusually vulnerable or empty these days, remember that the aching void is also your access point to Source.

As in the beloved Leonard Cohen song,

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.

Even at the dark of the moon, blessings.