My newest obsession is Steampunk. I even claimed and picked up an old typewriter that I had found listed on Craigslist! Though it's probably from the eighties, I'll still use it for parts. I also have in my possession a discarded watch and a small, toy train engine that, I can only assume, used to lead the remainder of an electric, Thomas the Tank Engine set. Those will be popped open and explored for parts, too. The aesthetic of the Steampunk, or Neo-Victorian genre has a sort of faerie tale curiosity for me. It's set in a time that is so far removed from mine, yet so familiar in technological advances. Though, for it's part, the technology is so much more captivating to see.
This has me thinking. Recently, a friend of mine (met through Anam Cara) was kind enough to read for me. Tarot has always been a comfortable medium through which I can accept validation from the Universe. If I listen to my intuition (which I now know how to do thanks to this friend, but I must practice), I will find my validation easily. Yet, as I have stated before, meditation is something I must work toward accomplishing for a proper outcome. I digress. We moved to the subject of moving forward. She had told me previously that I had chosen ten, very balanced cards for the reading and, among other things my subconscience and connection to the Universe was calm and even, and that by choosing The Sun and The Moon (the cards, as always, were upside-down for the selection process), my soul was admiting that I am a complete person. Whatever I search for, whatever I want, I can get. If I put it out there and truly want it, it's mine; all I need do is reach out and grasp. Obstacles should be regarded as mere lessons. There is always a way around, through, over or under. Always. I am a river flowing around the rocks and boulders. My path is clear and I must flow and move with the current regardless of the stones that lie before me. Again, I digress.
I must move ahead; forge that path, learn those lessons and become who I am; be who I am. I have learned from lessons in my past, but those times have gone and to live in the past is to ignore the present. What lessons can I learn now if I'm not here? This was the topic of our side discussion. Not that remembering good times or lessons are bad; far from it! However, if I am constantly thinking on what I used to have (emotionally, phyisically, materially, spiritually, etc.) how can I be who I have become? How can I learn anymore? I need to be present. I need to be now. I need to be. So, that brings me to my query: is interest in the Steampunk/Neo-Victorian genre detrimental to progress? I don't think so. It doesn't seem so, anyway. The clothing is aesthetically pleasing to me, and I must admit that I revel in my superficiality much of the time. Fashion repeats itself decade after decade, too. The technology is current but with an antique look. Am I making excuses to not move ahead, or am I right in my thinking? (Rhetorical, of course; merely musing online. Felt I had to share my revelation.)
As for moving ahead and getting what I want from the Universe, I have bought a lovely book titled Hedge Witch: Spells, Crafts & Rituals for Natural Magick by Silver Ravenwolf. Though I have only just begun reading and following the learning modules within, I feel I have already opened myself up to recieving what the ever abundant Great Spirit wants for all of us; whatever we want and the Spirit wants for us to have. (Incidentally, I have a friend whom I have known for about six or seven years, now who has constantly tried to convince me of the benefits of letting the Universe give me what I truly want. Well, T, I am ready to try!) I heartily recommend the book and will keep everyone updated on my progress and share my own truths in lessons learned. The Witches' Almanac for this year (Spring 2009 to Spring 2010) has provided me with enjoyable trivia this afternoon. This is the first time I've read all of the articles up to the first month before the first month has ended. Well, at all, for that matter. I usually would pick and choose which stories and histories I thought would be interesting and leave the rest for a time when they might be pertinent to whatever I might be practicing. I think that there are still articles left unread from Spring 1997 to Spring 1998 (the year I first became interested in Paganism and Witchcraft.)
So, forging ahead is the tone...for the month, at least.
Oh! By the way, Universe, thank you for the promotion to full time animal/laborer at the farm and for getting me out of retail and food service for good! It's exactly what I wanted.
Exactly.*^_^*
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Ah! Spring!
Granted, it's just as chilly today as it has been for the past few days, but tomorrow's high is going to be around fifty. It's a lovely thought, even if it doesn't happen right away, the warmer weather is finally coming. We've hit the lotto on sunny, end-of-winter days out here on Cape Cod, though. I don't think I've seen a sunnier, more cheerful end to winter, to be honest! We've had minimal snowy, rainy or cloudy days these past two or three weeks. Sure, it's been windy, down right gusty some days, but the sun's been there to remind us that soon we'll all be complaining that it's too hot. *^_^* Ha!
Especially in my house! All throughout this frigid winter we've turned the heat on in one, closed off room only (though I did have a few nights when I had to keep my heat on in my room no higher than fifty-five for the lack of another body in my bed.) Sweaters are a wonder in our house. Even better? Soft, cuddly robes over sweaters with some sort of booty-socks to keep every inch of our skin covered. This practice we've adopted is great for our budget and the environment, not to mention showing the electric company that we do just fine with little of their intervention, thank you very much.
Here's the rub: venturing out to places of business or friends' or relatives' homes has been taking its toll on Auntie. She seems to have the worst time adjusting to the heated buildings. Though Uncle and I have our share of requests to "turn the heat down a little," poor, poor Auntie flushes, almost swoons and often must take herself to the door, sometimes requiring a step outside for cool air before she can rejoin the fun. *U_U* I feel that I can adjust well. I prefer the cool air to true cold or true heat. Lukewarm is fine with me.
My point? The heat is coming. Spring and Fall are the easy favorites in this household. We're all creative and active enough to get out there and enjoy the weather, but once it hits "too hot" or "too cold," we retreat to the inner sanctum and laze about the house, finding other ways to enjoy the weather without being in the thick of it. Of course, it doesn't hurt that Sissie's apartment complex has a pool.
Equinox's and Solstice's bring sweats at my Anam Cara's sanctuary. Her husband was grand enough to build her a modernized (plastic tarp to keep the heat in; strong, plastic piping to keep the form; resilient canvas for the "roof" protecting the structure, rocks and sweaty people inside from the outer forces of nature), Native American sweat lodge. He's a marvelous man anyway, but he takes responsibility for the upkeep and function of the lodge, too. Before sweats, he builds the fire on a pile of rocks varying in size and shape. That fire needs to go for the majority of the day; at least four hours! He tends the fire and rocks as Anam Cara readies the vat of water, bough for sprinkling the water, lavender and other herbs for scenting the sweat and other spiritual purposes, centering herself and cleansing herself and space for the safety and enjoyment of all attendees. Once we've all arrived, but before we enter, each member of the sweat is smudged [which means that our chakras/auras/energies/whatevers are cleared of negative energies and opens our chakras up to healing, positivity or whatever other good things one hopes to gain from the experience of the sweat] with sage, sweetgrass, incense or other forms of Air Element-related cleanser. We enter the lodge one by one, because that's the size of the door, not for any other spiritual purpose. (Anam Cara is a very relaxed practitioner who welcomes all for of spirituality into her sanctuary (My Secret Garden in Mashpee, MA), as long as you are respectful of others.) When we have all settled into our spots (cushions on the ground with enough room between each of us that we can lay down if the heat becomes too much, but not enough for us to leave), Anam Cara's hubby-helper comes in with a metal basket of hot rocks, glowing red and carefully empties them into the circle of stones in the center of the lodge. He retreats, and Anam Cara soaks the bough with water, then sprinkles it onto the rocks, pulsing with heat. They hiss like snakes and steam emerges. She continues with the water until we've hit a satisfactory temperature, only sprinkling again when the heat begins to subside.
It's a glorious feeling! Usually, we'll keep the lights out and talk. Last night, we dedicated the first round to healing and offered up names of those who are in need of a little extra help from the cosmos, Great Mother, surrounding spirits, guardians angels, etc. Breathing deep, I filled my lungs with the hot steam and felt it course through my veins to the tips of my fingers and toes. When I sweat, my mind wanders, but less outward. More inward. Inward thinking and feeling brings me to my Self. The Self I hide from everyone, including myself in day to day life. I breathe in the moment. I live in the moment. I exist in the moment.
I exist.
I love sweats for this reason. Last night's experience enhanced my feelings of being especially. I'm uncertain as to why the trees loomed more glorious when I emerged from the heat into the cool, new Spring evening air. Why the Sky's hue was glowing blue likened to the color of my favorite moonstone ring; the one that makes my eyes feel brighter just gazing at it. Why it felt immensely greater to be alive last night, when most days and nights I simply move through the paces. Being alive was never so full of wonderment as it was last night, and it has carried through to today; hopefully beyond. But living in the moment, feeling my body adjusting to the temperature, feeling the chilling effect of the ground on my feet when the rest of me expelled foreign toxins through my skin, it was...
Indescribable.
For years, I've listened to spiritualists and enlightened friends recall instances of self and existence. All without fully understanding. Not only could I not understand what they had gone through because I wasn't them, but I couldn't understand because I had never been in the moment.
My mind wanders, you see.
It could all be part and parcel of being an Air sign.
I might just be flighty.
Whatever the reason, I don't ground well, so my experience of the now has always been punctuated with thoughts of the future or memories of long past. Not really the now. Not truly feeling myself. The Self I find when I sweat.
Though I didn't concentrate on healing or praying or meditating, as such, I feel that I realigned my Self with the Universe. I was all out of whack, and last night, the Spring Equinox, Ostara, for some reason clicked me back into place. I've been wondering if I would ever have one of those awakenings. You know? The kind that change people. The kind of awakening that helps people realize what they want, helps them plan the path of being and happiness and wholeness and helps them become exactly who they are meant to be; not just who they want to be.
I have a lot of energy that is waiting to be tapped. Or so I've been told.
Yeah, I think it's one of those kinds of awakenings.
Welcome, Spring! What's in store for me, now? What seedlings peek through their snowy blanket for me to discover as the ice melts and the Wheel turns?
Especially in my house! All throughout this frigid winter we've turned the heat on in one, closed off room only (though I did have a few nights when I had to keep my heat on in my room no higher than fifty-five for the lack of another body in my bed.) Sweaters are a wonder in our house. Even better? Soft, cuddly robes over sweaters with some sort of booty-socks to keep every inch of our skin covered. This practice we've adopted is great for our budget and the environment, not to mention showing the electric company that we do just fine with little of their intervention, thank you very much.
Here's the rub: venturing out to places of business or friends' or relatives' homes has been taking its toll on Auntie. She seems to have the worst time adjusting to the heated buildings. Though Uncle and I have our share of requests to "turn the heat down a little," poor, poor Auntie flushes, almost swoons and often must take herself to the door, sometimes requiring a step outside for cool air before she can rejoin the fun. *U_U* I feel that I can adjust well. I prefer the cool air to true cold or true heat. Lukewarm is fine with me.
My point? The heat is coming. Spring and Fall are the easy favorites in this household. We're all creative and active enough to get out there and enjoy the weather, but once it hits "too hot" or "too cold," we retreat to the inner sanctum and laze about the house, finding other ways to enjoy the weather without being in the thick of it. Of course, it doesn't hurt that Sissie's apartment complex has a pool.
Equinox's and Solstice's bring sweats at my Anam Cara's sanctuary. Her husband was grand enough to build her a modernized (plastic tarp to keep the heat in; strong, plastic piping to keep the form; resilient canvas for the "roof" protecting the structure, rocks and sweaty people inside from the outer forces of nature), Native American sweat lodge. He's a marvelous man anyway, but he takes responsibility for the upkeep and function of the lodge, too. Before sweats, he builds the fire on a pile of rocks varying in size and shape. That fire needs to go for the majority of the day; at least four hours! He tends the fire and rocks as Anam Cara readies the vat of water, bough for sprinkling the water, lavender and other herbs for scenting the sweat and other spiritual purposes, centering herself and cleansing herself and space for the safety and enjoyment of all attendees. Once we've all arrived, but before we enter, each member of the sweat is smudged [which means that our chakras/auras/energies/whatevers are cleared of negative energies and opens our chakras up to healing, positivity or whatever other good things one hopes to gain from the experience of the sweat] with sage, sweetgrass, incense or other forms of Air Element-related cleanser. We enter the lodge one by one, because that's the size of the door, not for any other spiritual purpose. (Anam Cara is a very relaxed practitioner who welcomes all for of spirituality into her sanctuary (My Secret Garden in Mashpee, MA), as long as you are respectful of others.) When we have all settled into our spots (cushions on the ground with enough room between each of us that we can lay down if the heat becomes too much, but not enough for us to leave), Anam Cara's hubby-helper comes in with a metal basket of hot rocks, glowing red and carefully empties them into the circle of stones in the center of the lodge. He retreats, and Anam Cara soaks the bough with water, then sprinkles it onto the rocks, pulsing with heat. They hiss like snakes and steam emerges. She continues with the water until we've hit a satisfactory temperature, only sprinkling again when the heat begins to subside.
It's a glorious feeling! Usually, we'll keep the lights out and talk. Last night, we dedicated the first round to healing and offered up names of those who are in need of a little extra help from the cosmos, Great Mother, surrounding spirits, guardians angels, etc. Breathing deep, I filled my lungs with the hot steam and felt it course through my veins to the tips of my fingers and toes. When I sweat, my mind wanders, but less outward. More inward. Inward thinking and feeling brings me to my Self. The Self I hide from everyone, including myself in day to day life. I breathe in the moment. I live in the moment. I exist in the moment.
I exist.
I love sweats for this reason. Last night's experience enhanced my feelings of being especially. I'm uncertain as to why the trees loomed more glorious when I emerged from the heat into the cool, new Spring evening air. Why the Sky's hue was glowing blue likened to the color of my favorite moonstone ring; the one that makes my eyes feel brighter just gazing at it. Why it felt immensely greater to be alive last night, when most days and nights I simply move through the paces. Being alive was never so full of wonderment as it was last night, and it has carried through to today; hopefully beyond. But living in the moment, feeling my body adjusting to the temperature, feeling the chilling effect of the ground on my feet when the rest of me expelled foreign toxins through my skin, it was...
Indescribable.
For years, I've listened to spiritualists and enlightened friends recall instances of self and existence. All without fully understanding. Not only could I not understand what they had gone through because I wasn't them, but I couldn't understand because I had never been in the moment.
My mind wanders, you see.
It could all be part and parcel of being an Air sign.
I might just be flighty.
Whatever the reason, I don't ground well, so my experience of the now has always been punctuated with thoughts of the future or memories of long past. Not really the now. Not truly feeling myself. The Self I find when I sweat.
Though I didn't concentrate on healing or praying or meditating, as such, I feel that I realigned my Self with the Universe. I was all out of whack, and last night, the Spring Equinox, Ostara, for some reason clicked me back into place. I've been wondering if I would ever have one of those awakenings. You know? The kind that change people. The kind of awakening that helps people realize what they want, helps them plan the path of being and happiness and wholeness and helps them become exactly who they are meant to be; not just who they want to be.
I have a lot of energy that is waiting to be tapped. Or so I've been told.
Yeah, I think it's one of those kinds of awakenings.
Welcome, Spring! What's in store for me, now? What seedlings peek through their snowy blanket for me to discover as the ice melts and the Wheel turns?
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Undines and Sylphs
I can't say that I've ever actively enjoyed the ocean. Monumental wonder though it may be, the crashing of the waves upon the shore and cry of the sea birds never spoke to my heart. Sure, living on the Cape since I was 12, I've visited the beach a few times to see the moon light uninhibited, glowing on the sand, lighting the night like a sixty-watt bulb, shimmering on the undulating curves of the sea like so many silver serpents suspended in one fixed location, but slithering nonetheless. Friends back then, even now insist on outings to the beach. Being an air sign, my affinity for the grounded element lacking, but my wish to be accommodating I'd often join in and sit among my friends on the jetties or walk along the disappearing wave line. Thinking on it now, I realize that the wave line in and of itself are magickal, as is the entire body of water and all that dwell within. To appear in a rush of nature, then disappear in the blink of an eye is one of nature's great magic acts. Even the "invisible" line of the undertow seen from the distance on the surface of the water is like a simple, organic brush stroke by Gaia. The ocean is magick and artwork, courtesy of Mother Nature.
These epiphanies occurred to me Saturday as I sat in a metal folding chair sinking sideways into the sandy beach and waited for the director to call "Lock it up!" and "Action!" again and again. Though the wind was chilly, it's temperature was cut by it's dull force and the smiling sunlight. Wave upon wave upon wave came rushing to the scene, hoping to make a cameo appearance and help set the anguish and uneasiness of the scene. Water can evoke so many emotions (calm, loneliness, foreboding, etc.) with such accuracy with a mere change of speed, sound or color.
My preference of the air element and all that is related has shadowed all other elements, their qualities and lessons that I could have learned sooner rather than later. Later has come. I realized this a few years ago, but I am finally ready and able to embrace the knowledge and all that it can bring and teach me. I think that is why I was rewarded by my dear Sylphs, today. I am often reminded of friends, the simplicity and beauty of the smallest wonders of nature (i.e.: breathing, a soft breeze brushing my cheek, sweet, green scents of the Earth, etc.), how small I am and how immense the Universe by the spirits of the air. It is my element and the origin of the creatures with which I work in my magicks. We have had a connection since before I even acknowledged the truth in their existence or changeability of their demeanor. Dear sweet faeries that they are to and with me are not without their wrath and trickster traits. We play games; they hide my keys or other items I frantically search for when I am late for work or a meeting, I laugh and play along, they return my item almost immediately. Granted, I must go back and look where I had searched two or three times before, but they are good enough to give back what they had only borrowed in jest. At any rate, my connection to the Elementals with which I cooperate is strong and beneficial. Though I pay tribute far less than I should (and I realize this), they have yet to take anything for keeps, break anything of value (sentimental or otherwise) or tease me in any malice.
Of course, there was the other day when I was tromping around in the great, thick blanket of snow at the farm. I opened the gate to push the wheelbarrow with all my might through to the compost pile. As I opened the gate, the wind died down and I was able to get halfway out. At that point, a great Northern gust nudged the gate far enough closed that my clunky boot just caught at the toe and I toppled into the snow. What could I do but laugh and gaze skyward. Life's a game. It's all a game to them; life, work, play, all of it. So I laughed and went on with my day. Sometimes I take my day or myself too seriously and the air spirits remind me to lighten up (no pun intended)! Depending upon how my day is going, I usually take the lesson for what it is worth and go along with my day, enjoying the fact that my Sylphs are nearby, watching, playing, helping me every time I need a reminder. Today, for example, was a marvelously gorgeous (almost) Spring day! As I walked back to the barn to return the wheelbarrow (same barn, oddly enough), I heard a darling twinkling of birdsong; singular and perfect. I looked up and spied a pitch black bird the size of my palm (I have "medium" sized hands, I'd say.) It was alone, but twittered happily just the same. I knew not if it called to it's love or friends, or simply for happiness at the relief from the cold weather. A smile crept across my lips. Reveling in it's song, I continued on. Looking back to see if I could figure out what kind of bird serenaded me, I first looked directly above me. There, in the midst of the baby blue sky and random wisps of cotton-clouds glowed a tiny piece of rainbow. It looked lost. No clouds were near enough to have cast a rainbow there and further investigation of nearby sky proved that this was a missing piece to a jigsaw too far away to locate. I cherished my special rainbow. Still do. My gift of a bridge between me and the Spirit World. I smiled again and returned my wheelbarrow. Still smiling, I walked out of the barn but a moment later to return to work and gazed up once more. It was gone. Just like that. And my smile broadened. It was for me and me alone. The birdsong, the musky scent of turned earth and budding crocuses, the fragment of rainbow that, no doubt ran off to join up with its tail; it was all for me to enjoy, to remind me that the Sylphs are there and to acknowledge that I can work with and enjoy more than one element.
This week, Air has gifted me and Water has finally resonated and agreed to work with me when I am ready.
As for Earth, I am finding this Witch Garden Planning to be a bit of a daunting task. I won't go any further until I can enjoy it fully as I plan, prepare, plant, grow and cultivate my hard work. Goddess knows a garden meant for magickal work is no place for harried, unprepared exhaustion! What goes into it is what comes out, and I don't want to grow and take in negativity or disorganization. So, my garden slows yet again as I continue to research plants and formations. Likewise, I cannot fully plan a plot until Auntie is good and ready to work her main garden and fencing projects. This will give me a concrete idea of when and where I shall grow my relationship with the Gnomes (proper name of the Earth Elementals as given by Ted Andrews in his book Enchantment of the Faerie Realm.)
Salamanders (Fire Spirits) and I have a loose relationship. That is another project for another day.
These epiphanies occurred to me Saturday as I sat in a metal folding chair sinking sideways into the sandy beach and waited for the director to call "Lock it up!" and "Action!" again and again. Though the wind was chilly, it's temperature was cut by it's dull force and the smiling sunlight. Wave upon wave upon wave came rushing to the scene, hoping to make a cameo appearance and help set the anguish and uneasiness of the scene. Water can evoke so many emotions (calm, loneliness, foreboding, etc.) with such accuracy with a mere change of speed, sound or color.
My preference of the air element and all that is related has shadowed all other elements, their qualities and lessons that I could have learned sooner rather than later. Later has come. I realized this a few years ago, but I am finally ready and able to embrace the knowledge and all that it can bring and teach me. I think that is why I was rewarded by my dear Sylphs, today. I am often reminded of friends, the simplicity and beauty of the smallest wonders of nature (i.e.: breathing, a soft breeze brushing my cheek, sweet, green scents of the Earth, etc.), how small I am and how immense the Universe by the spirits of the air. It is my element and the origin of the creatures with which I work in my magicks. We have had a connection since before I even acknowledged the truth in their existence or changeability of their demeanor. Dear sweet faeries that they are to and with me are not without their wrath and trickster traits. We play games; they hide my keys or other items I frantically search for when I am late for work or a meeting, I laugh and play along, they return my item almost immediately. Granted, I must go back and look where I had searched two or three times before, but they are good enough to give back what they had only borrowed in jest. At any rate, my connection to the Elementals with which I cooperate is strong and beneficial. Though I pay tribute far less than I should (and I realize this), they have yet to take anything for keeps, break anything of value (sentimental or otherwise) or tease me in any malice.
Of course, there was the other day when I was tromping around in the great, thick blanket of snow at the farm. I opened the gate to push the wheelbarrow with all my might through to the compost pile. As I opened the gate, the wind died down and I was able to get halfway out. At that point, a great Northern gust nudged the gate far enough closed that my clunky boot just caught at the toe and I toppled into the snow. What could I do but laugh and gaze skyward. Life's a game. It's all a game to them; life, work, play, all of it. So I laughed and went on with my day. Sometimes I take my day or myself too seriously and the air spirits remind me to lighten up (no pun intended)! Depending upon how my day is going, I usually take the lesson for what it is worth and go along with my day, enjoying the fact that my Sylphs are nearby, watching, playing, helping me every time I need a reminder. Today, for example, was a marvelously gorgeous (almost) Spring day! As I walked back to the barn to return the wheelbarrow (same barn, oddly enough), I heard a darling twinkling of birdsong; singular and perfect. I looked up and spied a pitch black bird the size of my palm (I have "medium" sized hands, I'd say.) It was alone, but twittered happily just the same. I knew not if it called to it's love or friends, or simply for happiness at the relief from the cold weather. A smile crept across my lips. Reveling in it's song, I continued on. Looking back to see if I could figure out what kind of bird serenaded me, I first looked directly above me. There, in the midst of the baby blue sky and random wisps of cotton-clouds glowed a tiny piece of rainbow. It looked lost. No clouds were near enough to have cast a rainbow there and further investigation of nearby sky proved that this was a missing piece to a jigsaw too far away to locate. I cherished my special rainbow. Still do. My gift of a bridge between me and the Spirit World. I smiled again and returned my wheelbarrow. Still smiling, I walked out of the barn but a moment later to return to work and gazed up once more. It was gone. Just like that. And my smile broadened. It was for me and me alone. The birdsong, the musky scent of turned earth and budding crocuses, the fragment of rainbow that, no doubt ran off to join up with its tail; it was all for me to enjoy, to remind me that the Sylphs are there and to acknowledge that I can work with and enjoy more than one element.
This week, Air has gifted me and Water has finally resonated and agreed to work with me when I am ready.
As for Earth, I am finding this Witch Garden Planning to be a bit of a daunting task. I won't go any further until I can enjoy it fully as I plan, prepare, plant, grow and cultivate my hard work. Goddess knows a garden meant for magickal work is no place for harried, unprepared exhaustion! What goes into it is what comes out, and I don't want to grow and take in negativity or disorganization. So, my garden slows yet again as I continue to research plants and formations. Likewise, I cannot fully plan a plot until Auntie is good and ready to work her main garden and fencing projects. This will give me a concrete idea of when and where I shall grow my relationship with the Gnomes (proper name of the Earth Elementals as given by Ted Andrews in his book Enchantment of the Faerie Realm.)
Salamanders (Fire Spirits) and I have a loose relationship. That is another project for another day.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Musings of a Lethargic Mind
About two weeks ago I received a call back from a producer of an independent film being shot locally for which I had auditioned. Things haven't been running as smoothly as a I had imagined a movie shoot would, but I'm having fun, meeting new people and getting my face out there. Well, at least I know my hands and my shadow will be out there. My face will simply have to wait, then follow.
Yesterday, as I sat waiting to be called to shoot my scenes, I grabbed my little notebook and jotted down my thoughts to be posted here. They may seem a little punchy and scattered. That's because I worked the farm, then the cafe Monday through Friday. Then I had to get up at five Saturday morning to leave by six and drive for an hour and a half (down a strip of highway here on Cape called "Suicide Alley." You do the math.) I arrived at my destination at seven-thirty and waited for three hours to get started. We shot, then I waited for another two hours and shot another scene. I left at three-thirty and returned home too exhausted to post or edit my writing. Here you go! *^_^*
Waking early is always difficult when there's somewhere I have to be. Give me an easy morning with no alarm or squirrel-y attic-scratching and I can rise with the sun, if that's what my body wants. Rising with the sun, driving with no one but speed traps to watch for, then waiting for three hours to walk across a hallway from one heavy hospital door to another: that gives you the opportunity to appreciate nature.
Alright, you get the early morning waking. Even the solemnity of having the road and the lonely call of the birds all to yourself makes sense. "But, why," you wonder, "does doing nothing for three hours help you appreciate the world around you?" On one of the most beautiful days we've had this winter, let alone the first Spring-y day since the most recent snowfall and cold snap, you can literally watch the snow melt right before your eyes. Even if I can't go outside and bask in the golden rays of Helios, sitting in a room where the walls consist almost entirely of windows allows me to feel the heat of the sun, watch the world outside and, in doing so, feel closer through observation. Don't me wrong, I'd much rather be enjoying this sudden "heat wave" actively outside! There's supposed to be another cold front (according to the "Window on the Weather" piece in the Witches' Almanac that ends this Spring.) But sitting with other ladies of like mind (acting) and various shapes and sizes, in tandem with sitting quietly by myself and watching all of the extras, cast and crew buzzing around has given me a very calm, meditative state of mind. Of course, I'm not journeying, sitting in Lotus position or chanting "ohm," but by just being, I'm finding, can also serve as a meditation. I may have been told this before by enlightened friends, but these are the same people that are reminding me constantly to ground myself. Today, however, I find myself right here. I'm meditating, but I'm right here; in this chair, on this this floor, in this room, at this senior center, in Wellfleet waiting to shoot another scene.
I can wait.
While I wait, why don't I sit up, plant my feet flat on the floor in front of me, keep my knees at ninety degrees and breathe in slowly, but deeply? Why don't I hold it for a few seconds and let it out just as slowly and repeat two or three times? Why don't I take advantage of this chance to be in the moment and meditate deeper?
Woo! No wonder they have oxygen bars! That sleepy headache that was starting directly behind my left eye has disappeared. I also found a little yawn that was hiding all the way down below my lungs. As I breathed in, I felt it coming out to play and I fought it. Don't know why. So I changed my strategy and embraced the little guy, who quickly turned into a monster of a yawn! Thinking of it just now coaxed out his little brother.
Yawning is good. A little extra oxygen to the brain is never a bad thing.
There go my nerves...someone brought in an infant that's begun crying. Of course, in the space of that sentence, it's stopped. Now, there's that fear. I'm just waiting for it to open it's mouth again. (Can you tell I don't like children? Strange for a female witch, eh? Someone who's "supposed" to embrace life.) I adore nature and green growth, pregnant sheep and other animals, even the work of ants (contrary to the mind of my young self and the ant trails all those years ago.) But human life? I guess it's just something I'll have to work on.
I'm building a tentative list of flowers and herbs for my garden, but I have yet to figure out much more than that. Flowers that attract faeries are a must; I work with them in my magick...whether I like it or not! *~_^* Of course, this arid soil and shady lawn make it incredibly difficult to figure out what will do well two weeks to two months down the line. This unforgiving, New England weather doesn't allow much in the tangible preparation of a garden, so the dedication may be the most I can do until the ground is visble and plowable. I'm thinking of a trine or maybe three intersecting circles.
It's a start, right?
Yesterday, as I sat waiting to be called to shoot my scenes, I grabbed my little notebook and jotted down my thoughts to be posted here. They may seem a little punchy and scattered. That's because I worked the farm, then the cafe Monday through Friday. Then I had to get up at five Saturday morning to leave by six and drive for an hour and a half (down a strip of highway here on Cape called "Suicide Alley." You do the math.) I arrived at my destination at seven-thirty and waited for three hours to get started. We shot, then I waited for another two hours and shot another scene. I left at three-thirty and returned home too exhausted to post or edit my writing. Here you go! *^_^*
Waking early is always difficult when there's somewhere I have to be. Give me an easy morning with no alarm or squirrel-y attic-scratching and I can rise with the sun, if that's what my body wants. Rising with the sun, driving with no one but speed traps to watch for, then waiting for three hours to walk across a hallway from one heavy hospital door to another: that gives you the opportunity to appreciate nature.
Alright, you get the early morning waking. Even the solemnity of having the road and the lonely call of the birds all to yourself makes sense. "But, why," you wonder, "does doing nothing for three hours help you appreciate the world around you?" On one of the most beautiful days we've had this winter, let alone the first Spring-y day since the most recent snowfall and cold snap, you can literally watch the snow melt right before your eyes. Even if I can't go outside and bask in the golden rays of Helios, sitting in a room where the walls consist almost entirely of windows allows me to feel the heat of the sun, watch the world outside and, in doing so, feel closer through observation. Don't me wrong, I'd much rather be enjoying this sudden "heat wave" actively outside! There's supposed to be another cold front (according to the "Window on the Weather" piece in the Witches' Almanac that ends this Spring.) But sitting with other ladies of like mind (acting) and various shapes and sizes, in tandem with sitting quietly by myself and watching all of the extras, cast and crew buzzing around has given me a very calm, meditative state of mind. Of course, I'm not journeying, sitting in Lotus position or chanting "ohm," but by just being, I'm finding, can also serve as a meditation. I may have been told this before by enlightened friends, but these are the same people that are reminding me constantly to ground myself. Today, however, I find myself right here. I'm meditating, but I'm right here; in this chair, on this this floor, in this room, at this senior center, in Wellfleet waiting to shoot another scene.
I can wait.
While I wait, why don't I sit up, plant my feet flat on the floor in front of me, keep my knees at ninety degrees and breathe in slowly, but deeply? Why don't I hold it for a few seconds and let it out just as slowly and repeat two or three times? Why don't I take advantage of this chance to be in the moment and meditate deeper?
Woo! No wonder they have oxygen bars! That sleepy headache that was starting directly behind my left eye has disappeared. I also found a little yawn that was hiding all the way down below my lungs. As I breathed in, I felt it coming out to play and I fought it. Don't know why. So I changed my strategy and embraced the little guy, who quickly turned into a monster of a yawn! Thinking of it just now coaxed out his little brother.
Yawning is good. A little extra oxygen to the brain is never a bad thing.
There go my nerves...someone brought in an infant that's begun crying. Of course, in the space of that sentence, it's stopped. Now, there's that fear. I'm just waiting for it to open it's mouth again. (Can you tell I don't like children? Strange for a female witch, eh? Someone who's "supposed" to embrace life.) I adore nature and green growth, pregnant sheep and other animals, even the work of ants (contrary to the mind of my young self and the ant trails all those years ago.) But human life? I guess it's just something I'll have to work on.
I'm building a tentative list of flowers and herbs for my garden, but I have yet to figure out much more than that. Flowers that attract faeries are a must; I work with them in my magick...whether I like it or not! *~_^* Of course, this arid soil and shady lawn make it incredibly difficult to figure out what will do well two weeks to two months down the line. This unforgiving, New England weather doesn't allow much in the tangible preparation of a garden, so the dedication may be the most I can do until the ground is visble and plowable. I'm thinking of a trine or maybe three intersecting circles.
It's a start, right?
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
On Winter's Conversion to Spring
Bad Axe, Michigan is a small town. Rather, it was when I lived there in the late-eighties to the mid-ninties. We lived on a dirt road that met another dirt road that met yet another a mile off. Flat land and corn fields dotted with cows and the occassional abandoned farmhouse as far as the eye could see. Not much to do but call up your best pal and ride your bike as fast and far away as you could get. My bike buddy and I often rode to the "creek" to sit on the massive, metal tube running underneath the road from one side to the other and make observations of small town life. One day we'd follow that water and see where it goes. Oh, but there are "No Trespassing" signs everywhere, and when is hunting season?, and what if we get so far that we can't hear our mothers whistling us to return home for dinner or because it's getting too dark, now? We never did follow that water, did we?
The streetlights were few and far between until you reached the paved roads leading you into town. Everything was so geometric. Every turn was ninety degrees. But my bit of country was unlit, untamed to the eye of a tween. I remember loving the pure moonlight on my skin at night. I still do. It looks like it's powerful, and it is. It feels powerful. I remember hating the ant trails that always seemed to find their way into my room through the window every summer. I remember wondering every summer if they'd find their way to the smorgasbord of meat lying a mere deviation from their seasonal path. They never did. Yet, I also remember missing winter and waiting for my favorite season.
The lack of streetlights gave me my warp speed in the winter. Driving down those bump-bumpy roads, full of snow, who could tell how slow we were going? Or how fast? With only the headlights glaring into the blustery winter air, snow swirling like stars after you've spun yourself sick, falling to the ground and gazing numbly, you feel like you're moving at the speed of light. Watch the snow flying straight for the windshield, unblinking, thinking only of flying faster and higher.
Ah! Winter. The snow days. The snow angels. The snowball fights. The beautiful, solid finger paintings Jack Frost left for you to discover in the morning on your bedroom window. What has become of that wonder? I still love winter. In my heart of hearts, I shall never let go of my adoration of the beauty that winter is and what calmness and solemnity it brings. But, jeez oh petes! This winter sure has done a number on my love of the season. Those snow days are missed days of work and pay. Those snow angels are soggy pants and fingers that refuse to thaw. Those snowball fights were never a blessing to one who can't throw to save her life. Oh, Jack! Not your magnificent art! That, too has become the chore of clearing of my windshield to get to work in one piece.
Yet, still, the seasons must change. Everything must rest to waken at the new dawn; ready to sprout all manner of possibilities. I must remember this. Auntie said to me the other day, "I'm sure working in this weather on the farm must be awful, but just look outside. You can't deny that it's pretty to look at. Like we're in a snowglobe." I denied it through a sleepy mouthful of oatmeal, but, deep down, I agreed. Winter is a beauty that mankind is lucky to observe. Yes, like all things beautiful, hidden dangers lie in wait. But whats a power outage with friends and family? It's a fire in the living room with candles all about and reading aloud under comfy, fluffy wubbies. What's a driveway ankle deep in snow? It's a great workout. (Remember: lift with the knees. That reminds me, I need to soak for a while. Ouch!) What's that peeking up through the snow? It's new growth. "I'm ready," it calls. "Spring is coming," reply the birds. Winter makes Spring all the more lovely.
Less than a month brings Ostara, the Spring Equinox! I'll have to wait three more seasons for another journey into deep space, Mr. Frost. Enjoy winter somewhere else in the world for me. This brings to life another facet of The Witch I Want To Be; the garden witch. I don't have much of a green thumb. The only bit of one I'd inherited from my paternal grandmother keeps me from killing roses. (I can plant them and leave them to fend for themselves and they'll always do just fine. Not much to boast, but I've heard roses are a difficult plant to keep for some.) Nevertheless, this Spring I will attempt my very own magickal garden. I'd like to plant some edible items, but my main objectives are magickal herbs and flowers. Auntie has promised me my own bit of Earth and I will help her tend her veggies and fruit. We'll all benefit. The thing is, I have yet to decide what seeds/sprouts to purchase, the placement and the layout of my little experiment. Why is this so important when winter rages on, still? According to The Witches' Almanac, Tuesday is the Chaste Moon. It is costomary to walk your garden, or plot chosen on the full moon nearest Ostara and bless the soil.
So soon?!
Now, do you see why I'm scrambling to get everything decided? It's too late to concentrate on it tonight. These decisions will have to wait for tomorrow, after work. Good. I like nothing more than to come home after a hard day at the farm and crash into a pile of my books to do research.
No, really! *~_^*
The streetlights were few and far between until you reached the paved roads leading you into town. Everything was so geometric. Every turn was ninety degrees. But my bit of country was unlit, untamed to the eye of a tween. I remember loving the pure moonlight on my skin at night. I still do. It looks like it's powerful, and it is. It feels powerful. I remember hating the ant trails that always seemed to find their way into my room through the window every summer. I remember wondering every summer if they'd find their way to the smorgasbord of meat lying a mere deviation from their seasonal path. They never did. Yet, I also remember missing winter and waiting for my favorite season.
The lack of streetlights gave me my warp speed in the winter. Driving down those bump-bumpy roads, full of snow, who could tell how slow we were going? Or how fast? With only the headlights glaring into the blustery winter air, snow swirling like stars after you've spun yourself sick, falling to the ground and gazing numbly, you feel like you're moving at the speed of light. Watch the snow flying straight for the windshield, unblinking, thinking only of flying faster and higher.
Ah! Winter. The snow days. The snow angels. The snowball fights. The beautiful, solid finger paintings Jack Frost left for you to discover in the morning on your bedroom window. What has become of that wonder? I still love winter. In my heart of hearts, I shall never let go of my adoration of the beauty that winter is and what calmness and solemnity it brings. But, jeez oh petes! This winter sure has done a number on my love of the season. Those snow days are missed days of work and pay. Those snow angels are soggy pants and fingers that refuse to thaw. Those snowball fights were never a blessing to one who can't throw to save her life. Oh, Jack! Not your magnificent art! That, too has become the chore of clearing of my windshield to get to work in one piece.
Yet, still, the seasons must change. Everything must rest to waken at the new dawn; ready to sprout all manner of possibilities. I must remember this. Auntie said to me the other day, "I'm sure working in this weather on the farm must be awful, but just look outside. You can't deny that it's pretty to look at. Like we're in a snowglobe." I denied it through a sleepy mouthful of oatmeal, but, deep down, I agreed. Winter is a beauty that mankind is lucky to observe. Yes, like all things beautiful, hidden dangers lie in wait. But whats a power outage with friends and family? It's a fire in the living room with candles all about and reading aloud under comfy, fluffy wubbies. What's a driveway ankle deep in snow? It's a great workout. (Remember: lift with the knees. That reminds me, I need to soak for a while. Ouch!) What's that peeking up through the snow? It's new growth. "I'm ready," it calls. "Spring is coming," reply the birds. Winter makes Spring all the more lovely.
Less than a month brings Ostara, the Spring Equinox! I'll have to wait three more seasons for another journey into deep space, Mr. Frost. Enjoy winter somewhere else in the world for me. This brings to life another facet of The Witch I Want To Be; the garden witch. I don't have much of a green thumb. The only bit of one I'd inherited from my paternal grandmother keeps me from killing roses. (I can plant them and leave them to fend for themselves and they'll always do just fine. Not much to boast, but I've heard roses are a difficult plant to keep for some.) Nevertheless, this Spring I will attempt my very own magickal garden. I'd like to plant some edible items, but my main objectives are magickal herbs and flowers. Auntie has promised me my own bit of Earth and I will help her tend her veggies and fruit. We'll all benefit. The thing is, I have yet to decide what seeds/sprouts to purchase, the placement and the layout of my little experiment. Why is this so important when winter rages on, still? According to The Witches' Almanac, Tuesday is the Chaste Moon. It is costomary to walk your garden, or plot chosen on the full moon nearest Ostara and bless the soil.
So soon?!
Now, do you see why I'm scrambling to get everything decided? It's too late to concentrate on it tonight. These decisions will have to wait for tomorrow, after work. Good. I like nothing more than to come home after a hard day at the farm and crash into a pile of my books to do research.
No, really! *~_^*
Monday, March 2, 2009
Lessons to be learned.
My Witchy To-Do list is immense! Of course, it goes hand-in-hand with my spiritual/physical health list.
Spiritual/Physical Health
Witchy To-Dos
Research will play a major role in my journey here. I'll post findings and their relevance to my lessons learned...or being learned. I look forward to anything anyone has to share, as well. Let's all learn and grow together!
I've always loved the witches in faerie tales. They've always been so misunderstood. I want to be the sweet, calm, giving lady that lives in the woods that all of the children are afraid of until that fateful day when one of them musters all the courage he can to simply knock on my door. As I approach the door to answer, he turns to run and trips, looking back in horror to discover my shadow falling long and chillingly upon him. He turns back to watch his gang mates running in terror from the Witch. They've left him and he's stuck.
He'll probably be eaten.
I help him up and tend his tiny knee wound. I tell him about my life and work. He laughs and shares what I already know; the children are all afraid of the Witch in the wood. Rightly so. I don't like children, anyway. I wink.
That's only one facet of The Witch I Want To Be.
Spiritual/Physical Health
- Morning Yoga (at least four days a week.)
- Meditation (My dearest Anam Cara [Celtic for "Soul Friend"] is practically pulling out her hair in anticipation of my joining her as soon as possible!)
- Deep, inner thought on who I used to be, who I am and who I want to become...as opposed to who I am becoming.
- Regular deep breathing exercises to increase lung capacity and reduce stresses.
- Deep thought, then actions taken to increase my love and care for the Earth and decrease my Footprint on her surface.
- And Many More!
Witchy To-Dos
- Deep self-instropection to develop who I am and become The Witch I Want To Be.
- Write/follow regular rituals (Sabbats and Esbats).
- Follow weather/agricultural pointers to better evaluate my surroundings and proceed on to every situation accordingly.
- Read, read, read! (I have so many books from which I have only read snippets that I needed at the time. My goal is to read every last one of them all the way through before buying another...if I can.)
- Live directly from the Earth. I work on a farm, for Goddess' sake! Time to start taking advantage of everything I can learn from the greenhouse/field manager and cultivate my own veggies and fruit in the meantime. Why not use my discount? That's what it's for. *~_^*
- Also, much, much more!
Research will play a major role in my journey here. I'll post findings and their relevance to my lessons learned...or being learned. I look forward to anything anyone has to share, as well. Let's all learn and grow together!
I've always loved the witches in faerie tales. They've always been so misunderstood. I want to be the sweet, calm, giving lady that lives in the woods that all of the children are afraid of until that fateful day when one of them musters all the courage he can to simply knock on my door. As I approach the door to answer, he turns to run and trips, looking back in horror to discover my shadow falling long and chillingly upon him. He turns back to watch his gang mates running in terror from the Witch. They've left him and he's stuck.
He'll probably be eaten.
I help him up and tend his tiny knee wound. I tell him about my life and work. He laughs and shares what I already know; the children are all afraid of the Witch in the wood. Rightly so. I don't like children, anyway. I wink.
That's only one facet of The Witch I Want To Be.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Created by MyFitnessPal - Free Calorie Counter