tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19801989494579039032024-02-24T05:41:55.042-05:00The Woman I Want To BeSpirituality, Life and the Pursuit of All That I Am. From the very bottom of my heart.Renee of the Faehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13081022805749169331noreply@blogger.comBlogger237125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1980198949457903903.post-31548291622305583972019-11-16T09:39:00.001-05:002019-11-16T09:39:17.679-05:00Truly**Note: This was composed the morning of November 14, but we don't have internet at the house, so it had to wait.)<br />
Well, my lovelies! My dear, dear, dedicated readers! Here we are again. Many moons have shone their glowing faces, and hidden themselves away just as often since last we met over a cuppa. Though, having done some searching through my feed, it seems I may be one of the last of a dying breed on this simple little blogger site. Comments, these days are such obvious spam, too. Perhaps I write only for the automated masses, nurturing them in their determination to improve not only their vocabulary, but their delivery and construction of sentences. My spammers are quite verbose and roundabout in their points, much like Dickens. I, too, follow such a stream in my writing. So, here it is. My spambots have learned from me, and they make beautiful, almost comprehensible points from time to time. There’s my immortality, then!<br />
Leaving these thoughts behind, I sip my homemade hot chocolate, snuggled into my fluffy throw on my little loveseat, feeling the burgeoning season tap-tap-tapping on my heart and mind. We had our first snow of the season two nights ago! Lovely! Truly. <br />
And happy, too.<br />
Truly.<br />
I have been through a few things in the past couple of years, as you may well know. Venus in Retrograde was the beginning of my most recent journey. Although, no; I think perhaps my past life regression with Khadija is the more responsible for my heart’s turnings, musings, and changes. What deep heartache I have felt over lifetimes! My ready acceptance of death and loss, I had thought, were from seeing death from an early age in this life, and watching it move carefully and strategically through the years. Of course, it never gets easier; especially not this time of year. Glancing back into snippets of two of my lives and seeing who and what was taken from me, still physically and emotionally affecting me, brought me to understand that I have developed this acceptance over lifetimes. I came into this life knowing death and making it a friend rather than a foe that must be overcome. Death cannot be overcome. It comes for us all one day (or many days, depending upon how many lives we need to learn our lessons.) Truly, it doesn’t make the loss any easier. Not ever. Knowing someone who is sick for ages doesn’t make their passing any easier than the sudden death of someone who “had so much to live for.” But acceptance allows us to appreciate what we have now. Acceptance allows us to live now, rather than fear the possibility. It will come, so embrace each other now. It will come, so be good to each other. It will come, so make memories before it’s too late.<br />
Wow! I really do go to some dark places when left unchecked, huh? I’m a secret Goth. I’ve come to that conclusion, and I’m totally cool with it. It’s actually really funny when I go off on tangents like that to people who have just met me. My giggly exterior throws them way off! Haha! <br />
I digress. <br />
I am happy. My dear, sweet S and I are coming up on one year of dating. We’ve both changed more than I thought possible for either of us in the ten years we were apart. Solo-living soul searching on my end, (DEEP soul searching; the kind that tugs on your skirt hem and asks innocently, “What’s the real harm in dabbling a little in Necromancy? Just take a look at it? What’s so bad about having a little darkness at your beck and call when you need it?” Yeah, I went way into my shadow side.) and a hard life on the road for S, we have learned so much about ourselves and what we are really aiming for in this life. He isn’t spiritual in the same way I am, but he has developed a sense of purpose through his own studies of Buddhism and his heart. I have learned to stand on my own and stand my ground when I feel it necessary. He has learned to appreciate the good in his life, and truly be thankful for the gifts the universe bestows. In my regression, however, I was met with a soul who was my dearest friend and confidante in both lives revealed. Indeed, I loved them with all of my heart, as one loves their very best friend, regardless of where or how far away life may take them. S, I am certain, is that soul. In my first life, he was an older man of the town; well-respected by all; high in the governing body (small as it was – it was a small, Finnish settlement in the early days of Delaware.) Though I was merely a cunning woman, living alone on the outskirts of the village, having left Finland on my own, and the townsfolk were not too fond of me (even if they did come to me from time to time for assistance), this man was my friend. He gave me advice. We spent many long hours discussing any number of topics. He was always concerned for my well-being, and I admired and adored him for his caring heart and friendship. (He was also a bit of a silver fox, since I’m revealing all. 😉 ) And when my cottage burned to the ground, we were sorry to part. <br />
In Victorian England, I was a lawyer who did well enough for myself that I lived quite comfortably in town. S, in that life, was a beautiful woman (even now I can still recall her in a sweet, subtly laced-trimmed day gown in pink, her hair piled in curls atop her head, her cheeks matching the blush of her dress, and her coy but pointed remarks.) I loved her. Truly. She loved me, too, and we were always the best of friends, but I let another man win the prize. I didn’t fight for her, and I never wed nor had children. She lived happily enough, and her husband knew nothing would come of our remaining such close friends. So we did, but only friends. <br />
Who knows what other incarnations we assumed in other lives, but I know we always remained apart. Finally, this life, my Gemini North Node has opened the door to our being together. It’s a difficult transition, though. One might think, “You love him so much, and have been kept apart for so long! Surely you know enough to jump at the chance?!” Not so easy, dear reader. I have spent so many lifetimes hermitted away, learning the things I yearned to know, learning everything about myself that I dared know, re-entering the populace to share what I know and CONNECTING with people isn’t so easy. Gemini North Node is a gift for my heart, but it is also my life’s purpose and lesson in this here and now. Such a gift can also be a burden. As well it should be! Nothing worth doing or knowing has ever been easy.<br />
Ah! But here we are! Cozy and warm and content and in love in our little apartment! He accepts and meets his responsibilities with dignity and strength (a big change for him, truly), all the while making sure I know how much he loves and appreciates me every day. I relish in my delight for “playing house,” as I try new recipes, filling our home with my love for him in my favorite ways (cooking, cleaning, organizing, decorating, doing random art – go ahead feminists, lose your freaking minds! I don’t care!) We play video games, boards games, and card games, watch movies, discuss the news, take walks, do art, laugh, love, and live. Together. We share our strengths and weaknesses without gloating or impatience. We hold each other when we weep, and sit silently when nothing said will make it better. We celebrate our triumphs and laugh off our failures, because nothing, NOTHING is worse than losing love again. We have found our “forever home” is each other’s heart. <br />
And all of that is why I am heralding the winter season and all of it’s delights! <br />
We’re going to have our very first, full-sized tree this year! For the three years we were together over a decade ago, we were only able to fit a dinky, little, fake, pre-lit table-top tree. He tells me not to disparage it, because it still got the job done. And he is right, of course, but now, not only is this going to be our first full-sized tree, it will also me MY first full-sized tree. I grew up with a fake tree for years. When we moved out east and stored it (and ALL of our childhood ornaments) in the basement, we found it covered in mold and had to throw it all away. That year, we had a real tree, but had to buy generic ornaments. That became the tradition throughout my school-aged years. I graduated, and moved in with Auntie, Uncle, and the dogs. Here, we also had a real tree pretty much every year. But here, Auntie (who is just as crazy for Xmas as I am) and I made our own ornaments depending on the theme each year. Years later, I rented my eldest sister’s house by myself, so just kept using that dinky, little pre-lit fake tree from my then-failed relationship. Why get a whole tree when I didn’t plan on having guests, nor did I want a fake tree because I knew not whether or would have storage in my next move. And further, in Witch Cottage (that dedicated readers know well), I had no space for a full-sized tree (fake or otherwise.) Ah! But here! Now! S and I will have our cozy, sweet, complete holiday tree! I’ve even made some ornaments! (The cinnamon kind you have to bake! I shall post pictures; this I vow.) I also still have my plastic Yule icicles, and have scavenged some nice ornaments my boss was going to toss after our Christmas in July week at work this year. <br />
What are you doing this year that you have always wanted to do, or haven’t done in so long that you can hardly wait? Do you get melancholy this time of year? If so, what are you going to do this year that your melancholy is helping to fix? Regardless of what you celebrate (Yule, Christmas, Kwanzaa, Chanukah, a day off, etc.), I hope the season begins and ends in love, beauty, and grace.<br />
(Photos to come. I promise. But, like, for real this time.)<br />
(Truly.) <br />
Renee of the Faehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13081022805749169331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1980198949457903903.post-85953274032158713272019-03-03T09:52:00.000-05:002019-03-03T09:52:07.481-05:00We Create OpportunitesThough I am nowhere near financially ready to become a homeowner, I often think as I pass certain houses on my daily commute, "That one. That house is just so cute, and it looks like it has almost all of the features I want. I want that house." And, Presto! That house is suddenly on the market with a big, bold sign out in front, as if the house itself was flagging me down each day. "Hey! Look! I'm available just as you wished!" A few days or weeks later (rarely months), the familiar, red SOLD banner would be plastered across the original sign, and the house becomes the home to another family. Sometimes I would be frustrated that I was not the one lucky enough to be able to snatch it up right away. Though, most times, these missed opportunities that I feel sure I made for myself with the kind and gentle assistance of the Universal Powers That Be have been boosts in my determination. "Next time, a space will be ready for me. I will be ready for that space."<br />
The world today is tough for a woman earning minimum wage at full time with only one job. All of my energy work has yet to yield a miraculous lottery win that will afford me my perfect home, paid in full and fully furnished as I see fit. It would have to be miraculous, you see; I don't play the lottery. However, too many people buy into "The Secret" that simply putting words into the Energy will manifest what you need with no further input required. Those of us in the know can tell you that this is not entirely true. Leonardo DaVinci's wise words in Ever After are constantly at the back of my mind. "You cannot leave everything to Fate. […] Sometimes you must give Her a hand!"<br />
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So, while I would just love to wish and sit back and wait for the magic to happen, that is not realistic. We make our own opportunities. Some do not see this as energy work, but merely as adulting and moving through life, doing what you must to get what you want. For me, though, it is different. I see such striking correlations between what I ask of the Universe and what is laid before me that I feel my energy work is the catalyst that opens these chances to me and my life. The information is entered into the database, creating a basic map, and the Universal printer pops out that same map with landmarks to make my journey easier to navigate. Her hints, tips, and tricks are made readily available to me simply because I asked, but I still have to take the steps and reach the checkpoints.<br />
Recently, an apartment I have been wondering about (fairly regularly for at least a year) has become a possibility for my new home within the next month. It is a little out of my price range. Some nearby, part time jobs have recently come available within walking distance of said apartment (and it is within walking distance of my full time job!) Minimum wage in Massachusetts went up this January. Further, I have a few weeks with which I can apply, begin, train, and earn supplemental income at a part time job so I can be ready and able to take up residence at this wonderful opportunity made by me in collaboration with The Universe and Her kind, helpful Energy. <br />
We create our own opportunities. It's up to us whether or not we take advantage of them when they manifest.Renee of the Faehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13081022805749169331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1980198949457903903.post-78936749589953971032019-01-27T10:42:00.002-05:002019-01-27T10:42:37.613-05:00On the Inner Work of WintertimeThough the Solstice brings hope and slowly increasing daylight hours, many are temporarily changed by Seasonal Affective Disorder. The Soul feels only the cold and sees only the darkness. Yet, what better time does the year afford to dive deep within and work on ourselves than that which makes staying in and cozying up in soft layers all the more perfect? For me, it is the moments of frustration with self limitations and the recollections of past rejections that stimulate the awareness of the need to look within for change and growth. Often, the winter months are the times in which I am thrown into these melancholic musings. Here I find myself, again, turning to my books and journals, ready to wade into the dark depths and see what currents will sweep me along to new shores of self-realization. My journey awaits.<br />
Exactly two years and ten days ago I began inner work guided by Devin Hunter through his book <b>The Witch's Book of Power</b>. Sadly, though my journal reads that I made a strong start, I set it aside for whatever reasons there may have been; life often gets in the way. However, life will always get in the way if we let it. Part of the Power I seek to gain is the ability to grow, nurture, and use my energy and gifts <i>in spite</i> of life. Nearly every day from as far back as I can remember has been one of self-exploration and desire to grow into the person and soul that I both want and feel I am meant to become. <br />
The Deities hold a stock in me and are constantly checking in to see how it matures. This is something I have been sure of since early childhood, when I could see and hear things that I was told weren't there. I had an early affinity for psychic leanings and enjoyed the many deja-vu moments I experienced when other children were left frightened by the feelings they couldn't understand. The colors of my life have been blue (the color of the Goddess), green (the color of growth), and red (the color of psychic ability.) Sadly, my fear of success often wins over my fear of failure, and the closer I get to achieving the spiritual greatness that is inherent in this life, the more likely I am to self-sabotage. <br />
This is my numerology year 8 (on several levels), however, so management and organization to set myself up for the future I am slated to have will help steer my hand toward gentler self-care and progress. Through Venus Retrograde investigation last year, I recognized a tendency in myself to dissolve in relationships. This is a constant struggle, but, as with most things, changing it gets easier with practice. I am a soul in constant states of change and growth. As such, I am determined to remain whole and stand and be seen in all relationships - including that which I have with myself - and the promises I made before birth to the Greater Beings. A part of their magick and wonder is within me - as it is within you - and turning my back on the nurturing of that powerful seed in unacceptable. This is my Reboot button on finding my Power, learning how to hold and work it, and doing the good that I am contracted to do in this life.<br />
Have you found your Power? Do you work with it daily? Weekly? How many times have you lost track and needed to clear the path of life's overgrowth to get back to your Core?<br />
Renee of the Faehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13081022805749169331noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1980198949457903903.post-75750597480356352272018-10-05T10:36:00.000-04:002018-10-05T10:36:37.933-04:00Headfirst into the Next Age Bracket!<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/c0A7jAVDPJU" width="459"></iframe><br />
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The big 3-5! Happy Birthday to me! Let's see what I have in store for the year...<br />
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Venus begins Her retrograde in earnest, today. As I covered the effects of the shadow period in my last post, I will not go into the effects She's already had on my everyday life. Though, I will say that I have recently done a little more digging and found that, considering the arrangement of planets both in my chart and their current paths and placements, Venus Retrograde is supposedly an easy time for me. This does explain why I haven't panicked or wondered why in the past when ex-lovers returned or deep inner thoughts deepened, but merely went along with the ebb of flow of energy and allowed it to move me like softly waving seaweed in a stream, it's sensual tendrils silently caressed by the currents all the while letting go of the ever-passing force. I have never fought it, but let it sweetly brush my cheek and move along; a quiet reminder of the passage of time and the constant interaction with the world that surrounds me both passively and actively. So, my heart goes out to those of you who fight the changes and need to address your pasts, while kicking and screaming. Some transits have that effect on me, too, but, considering the depth of emotion this one could potentially have on people, I feel lucky to be the Libra-Sun/Virgo-Moon/Scorpio-rising born around the 1983 Venus Rx that I am. The heart is a tricky frenemy, and outside forces working on it can truly make life difficult. I thank my stars for their cooperation in making this particular transit easy on me; especially considering the lonely past lives I've lived. A little bit of relief goes a long way, believe you me. Though it is a new aspect to me (as far as actually paying attention and being aware of what is happening), and my 3rd Eye has only been exposed to Her shadow movements thus far, I can already feel an ease of movement and, oddly, a graceful sensuality of the undulations of my soul and shifting of baggage into neat little piles of "Keep" and "Trash." The beginning of this new year of mine is laid out nicely for me to beginning a pruning followed by heady scents of new growth.<br />
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Moving on: 3+5=8; my numerology for this shiny, new year of growth. What's that mean? From Café Astrology.com: <br />
<b>This is the manager. Number Eight is a strong, successful, and material vibration. Ruled by Saturn.<br />
Keywords: ambitious, business-minded, practical, leading, authoritative, successful, courageous, accomplished, organized. If expressed negatively: tense, narrow, materialistic, forceful.</b><br />
This is particularly interesting, as the Venus Rx is moving through Scorpio this time around (I think? correct me if I'm wrong...) also effects financial matters. What a beautiful and serendipitous heavenly movement! This is the year I <strike>hope</strike> will move forward with greater financial stability and finally get on with getting my own place, on my own terms. This will be the year I set the groundwork for a self-sustaining life and have my own spaces to continue work on myself, and the ability to help facilitate the growth of others that find themselves seeking spiritual assistance. But, wait! What's this? 2018 itself is an 8 year itself! So, I can only assume that the last few months remaining will be especially strong in the aforementioned aspects. How providential! Okay, but, get this: my "second pinnacle" (second stage of four that help shape my life) is also an 8. Guys! This is a super organized year ahead!!! I am getting more and more excited to see and experience what is before me! Never have I ever been so thrilled for "the journey!"<br />
To moving forward! To a beautiful new year! To assessing deep wounds (self-inflicted or otherwise) and healing! To the embrace of happiness within my own skin, and acceptance of these battle scars (and the sweet, soft salve applied to facilitate the ease of time passage.)<br />
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Renee of the Faehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13081022805749169331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1980198949457903903.post-41165581409203973842018-09-26T12:08:00.002-04:002018-09-26T12:08:46.450-04:00Me: The Modern MindsetThis blog, for me, is truly a public journal. Though I have addressed topics palatable by many, the majority of posts have been those of self-discovery and the working-through of personal experiences. I remain grateful for those of you who have contributed and shown interest over the years. Even if I never meet some of you, I genuinely appreciate all of you. <br />
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That said, here we find ourselves in the shadow of an impending Venus Retrograde. Not just any retrograde, though. This will be one of Her transits through Libra and Scorpio - which only occur every 8 years. This year, She comes out the Shadow Phase and moves into full Retrograde on my birthday of all days! Nevertheless, I must say that this discovery, for me, was actually quite comforting. Past relationship woes, reminders, dreams of exes, and the like were plaguing me with sudden abruptness. When I finally found out about my beautiful ruling planet's backtracking, it all began to make sense.<br />
So, as they say, knowing is half the battle. So right they are (whomever they may be... G.I. Joe? ABC?) Armed with this information, I marched headlong into the realms of astrology to attempt to find that which I am meant to learn and experience. Thank goodness for all of my written journals (which I faithfully date at the end of each entry.) I have diaries that date all the way back to my junior high school years! <a href="https://cafeastrology.com/">Café Astrology</a> has been an immense help in the teasing out of my lessons for growth. Additionally, <a href="https://www.oldworldwitchcraft.com/#/">Old World Witchcraft</a> on Instragram was the source that pointed out the transit in the first place. So, I went back and did a quick search on "Café", and, low and behold, they listed previous Venus Retrograde intervals. I took these dates, cross-checked them against my journals, and found the patterns that most need work. It doesn't surprise me, but I am a sucker for homework. (I can know what I have to do, but, until someone else tells me to do it, it remains a mere acknowledgement in the back of my mind. "I'll deal with it eventually...") <br />
I have always been, and may always be, boy crazy. Those of you that know me or have been following this blog for a few years can attest to this fact. And, you know? I'm okay with this. What I'm not okay with is my insistence on throwing myself at all of my crushes until one of them sticks, for better or worse. It's not attractive to myself, nor, after some time, to anyone else. This is the boldest theme in the entries that coincided with past Venus Retrogrades. The other glaring facet of my personality during those times? Only seeing relationships, and not the two people involved within them - I count, too. I gush on and on about the guys I've liked, even loved, but, in those heady periods I don't seem to matter to myself. <br />
Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but, I should be the most important person in my life when I'm not with someone. Further, I shouldn't completely disappear in the pursuit of, and subsequent dating of the men I'm with. Relationships are meant to be equals. The balance may shift from time to time, but, in general, it should remain steadily even.<br />
Back to Café Astrology, though. One can check their Birth Chart for matching degrees of Venus Retro and Direct, find the ruling House, then read up on the lessons meant to be learned at this time. Sadly, I had nothing directly matching the degrees, but I checked the closest matches, and went from there. Even so, I found pertinent information and assistance. What once seemed heavy and hopeless is now direct power in my hands that I can use to develop my soul.<br />
This isn't in an attempt to find someone (Screw you, North Node in Gemini! I'll decide when to rejoin society!), but rather an opportunity to prove to myself that I am a worthy person. I have glimmering moments of great arrogance and vanity, so, it isn't as if I'm down on myself all of the time. However, I do find that I recede into the shadows and hide my true self when I meet men that spark my interest. Don't misunderstand; I don't lose myself. I am always here, just less so as I coo over and preen whomever my beloved may be. We all deserve that, in equal measure, if we choose to pursue companionship. But we all deserve to love ourselves fully throughout our lives, too. That is the mission Venus Retrograde has set forth for me this time around. Since she's in full power on my birthday, I simply cannot choose to ignore Her any longer.<br />
Renee of the Faehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13081022805749169331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1980198949457903903.post-78158551047338079412018-08-31T12:47:00.001-04:002018-09-05T10:11:37.893-04:00"Know Solitude"So reads the simple prediction for today in Llewelyn's Witches' Almanac. Truly, it is worth experiencing from time to time throughout the year, whether prompted to do so or not. Honestly, I have known solitude, and, due to a wanderlust ingrained within my very soul crippled by a Libran affectation that makes decision-making excruciatingly difficult, I have paced rooms for hours. Literally. Alone. I spent the better part of a day this past spring in a Cambridge hotel room wrestling with the choices of what to do once I hit the street if I would just grab my things and step out of the room. In the end, I walked to a local grocery store shortly before closing time, grabbed cheese, crackers, and fruit, and returned to the room, utterly defeated by my ridiculousness. I am loathe to admit that, had my travelling companion not been otherwise occupied for the day, we would have found some great way to pass the time. Instead, my demons and I walked in circles from the bed, to the window, to the luggage, and back. <br />
It all must sound borderline psychotic to others. "Why didn't you just go? Surely, you would have found something to do once you were out?" Seems logical enough when I am not in the situation. But, within my own head, spinning my internal web of solitary activities, I was actually overwhelmed. I think, in today's instance, knowing solitude, for me, is more akin to rest. I am not going forth to experience solitude among the masses. Nor am I abandoning the crowds for the lush rejuvenation of the woods. As it is still oppressive summer, and this is my last, true day off until the end of the semester, my chosen solitude lies in quiet physical rest. My body is exhausted from a season of demanding strangers and constant early mornings at work. As such, I slept in, went to my local café for breakfast, returned home to savor my treats, and have been merely lounging with low key entertainment and dreams of travel.<br />
There is no pacing involved, here. My wanderlust has been satisfied for the day in tandem with my Libran indecisiveness - I have done a little research on a few possibilities for next year's vacation. One option, in which I found myself interested only recently is Finland.<br />
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About a week ago, I treated myself to a Past Life Regression. The guide was my previous Middle Eastern Dance and Culture teacher, Katrina Valenzuela, who boasts an impressive number of years of this type of spiritual practice in addition to other forms of guidance. While we only uncovered two lives in the nearly three-hour session (which truly only felt like an hour from arrival to driving away), the first stuck with me. With a little extra research based on responses during the session, I have come to know that I was once a young Finnish woman with a knack for natural, herbal healing. Delving into that lifetime brought tears to my eyes in remembrance of the old woman who taught me all I knew. In her acknowledgment, and retrieval of her effect on my soul, I feel that she is always with me. This wonderful woman must be one of my guides. And, only now, as I type this sentence, have I realized that she reached out to me about five or six years ago in a reading with a medium. At the time, and until now, I shrugged that experience off as an encounter with a charlatan, and I felt as if I had been taken in. The medium tried to convince me that the woman coming through must have been some sort of grandmother, but the person I assumed it to be only barely fit the description; she was the only person that even came close. Now I know; she was my Finnish teacher. <br />
<br />
I don't want to bore anyone with the details of my past life discoveries. I do want to bring this post back to its original point, however. Both of those lives were filled with a great deal of isolation or solitude. My current North Node is in Gemini. Both of these realizations have driven home to me that I have been an incredibly solitary soul for a great many lifetimes. This is the life when I am to bring what I have learned to the people. This is my time to rejoin society. And so, I think perhaps that, while "knowing solitude" for some (perhaps many) is a shutting oneself up away from the world and being utterly alone, for me, I can "know solitude" wherever I may be, because by simply having lived it on such a deep level, solitary is a comparison; not a sentence or escape.Renee of the Faehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13081022805749169331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1980198949457903903.post-62426299230594229952018-07-10T10:06:00.001-04:002018-07-10T10:06:40.631-04:00Is my form of Paganism inherently Goth?As a child, I honored the shadows of my imagination far more than my playmates, it seemed. We would take turns coming up with games, as children do. When it came to me, my games had storylines that often ended with players' characters turning evil or "dark" in some way when boundaries were crossed or when someone was tagged "it." Then again, I often saw things that adults told me weren't there. Such is the burden of most children and animals. Innocence and the absence of a thought process that numbs senses allows the natural human (and base animal) psyche to observe the things that go bump in the night without restraint. As we grow and "evolve," the ability to connect with these forces are stripped from our minds. Perhaps it is all through the necessity to fit in, or the brainwashing of the thinking masses that abducts our souls from the primal. Regardless, that darkness lingered in the back of my mind as I aged. <br />
My treasured drawings featured the lighter side of the ethereal all throughout elementary and middle school, even if my games and silent personal musings dwelled on the possibilities of those hidden from view. The creatures there certainly made sure I never forgot their existence. Even now, I feel someone looking over my shoulder as I type this. Could be my dad. (Ever since he passed, he turns up randomly and irritates me until I chase him away again.) Could be someone I never knew. Could just be another energy I grew up fearing but have accepted as I have accepted the lighter side energies. The point is the acknowledgment of the eternal, and the eventual embrace if the whole. High school, as it is with many people, due to puberty and its nasty hormonal surges, opened the gate for all manner of expression and all muses that cared to step forward.<br />
My faerie and otherwise cheery characters took on more emaciated and sickly inspirations. Creatures grew fangs drenched in blood (my fascination with vampires deepened), ribs became more pronounced and cheekbones began a subtle protrusion, nails were now claws and talons. Nothing was safe from my shadows' gaze. The more I carved those deep lines, the more intrigued I was by "ugly" nature. Insects and decay were in direct opposition to the giggling prisms of rainbow light in which I dressed myself. <br />
My sister closest in age to me and I have often been mistaken for twins, but we are nearly two years apart in age. Further, in high school, she was, essentially, everything I hid of myself from the world. While I painted my bedroom blue with murals of unicorns, faeries, jesters, and flowers, and danced around to oldies, boy and girl bands, and spoke only of hope and uplifting cheer, she hid away in her dark grey room, shielded from sunlight by heavy red velvet curtains, listening to Korn, Marilyn Manson, Rob Zombie, and Static X. I maintained throughout those early years that I detested the darkness of her room, drama of her crazy hair and makeup, and angry tunes that emanated from her very being. (Though, I must point out that we would listen to The Cure, Cruxshadows, and Voltaire together.) Yet, out and about, and as I became more comfortable with myself, these protestations began to fall away. <br />
Fully realizing my Path, death and decay were finally openly accepted for their beauty in the natural progression of all things. The shadows, creatures, insects, and sadness that I continually pushed away or inwardly repressed were brought out to meet the light. A balance was struck. As we all know here, balance is required for all things to work in harmony. The color black was acknowledged as much as those of the rainbow, the bleached bones of beasts were appreciated for the structure they once provided, shells of previous crawling critters discarded by the mini souls once trapped within were collected for both decoration and magical aid. <br />
Since my recent appreciation of the Goth culture, I am seeing all of these things (and so much more) that have been parts of me since the very beginning turning up time and again in Goth references. Yet, they all just make sense both within the practice of my faith and the parts of my soul that would leave me half of a person if they ever dissolved from my soul. <br />
Am I merely a born Goth, and have fought it for so long? Are any of you Goth? Have you always been? Were you raised Goth? Perhaps you are a "baby bat" like me, but are seeing parallels from throughout your life that have lead you to the same conclusion I have drawn here? If you are experiencing the culture as I am, do you feel a bit like an outsider? (I still wear colors and listen to much of the same music I've always enjoyed. However, I have been returning to Goth artists I used to listen to and sampling other albums previously not heard.) I realize this is an incredibly rambling post, but it is exciting to me. Having come to this realization, I feel as though a part of me, long-rejected, has come home. It is a warm sweetness, and a calm I have not felt since I first came to The Path. As such, I feel a deeper pocket of power now available to me.<br />
Renee of the Faehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13081022805749169331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1980198949457903903.post-66271718753149501142018-07-06T09:26:00.002-04:002018-07-06T09:27:04.038-04:00Perfect Day for Spirit Boarding!Surfing around YouTube, looking for "spooky" content to watch while I eat breakfast on this overcast morning (which promises thunderstorms later! Yea!!), a WatchMojo video on the Ouija board caught my attention. It was as disappointing as most of their videos, but a quick look into the comments revealed a user who posted this:<br />
<b>"I'm so curious about the ouija board, but I don't want to risk myself."</b><br />
Responses ranged from insults on the poster's intelligence to casual warnings to downright forbidding the use of a spirit board for fear of all of the terrible things that will happen! Being the bottomless pit of random facts and experiences that I am, and the ever helpful Pagan I find myself to be, I responded with the following:<br />
<br />
<b>Some people get results (planchette movement, answers to questions whether true or not, etc), and some people don't. I used it profusely when I was a teenager, even tried a couple of times by myself. I am still alive. Nothing terrible ever happened to my friends or me. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. There are reports that show discoveries of the use of spirit boards as far back as Ancient Egypt. Regardless, if you are interested in trying, I suggest finding a couple of friends who are truly honest with you, and won't try to screw with you, before attempting on your own - only for the facts that you will have a basis of what to expect and how to respond if/when you do try it alone, and participants will remain respectful (aka: safe). Create a safe space. Some people freak out if it's in a house, but you're not in danger of inviting rude entities if you follow a few simple safety precautions. Never leave the planchette flipped up (as you would when using it) on the board without hands on it; turn it upside down if you must keep it with the board when not in use. Place four white candles at the four directions surrounding yourselves (North/South/East/West.) (Make doubly sure they are placed on fire safe holders/dishes on balanced surfaces so they can't fall over, and far enough away from everyone that a sudden silliness or response doesn't inadvertently knock them over. Be smart.) Once lit, and every one is sitting comfortably and safely inside the "circle," call on any past loved ones (truly call them - remember them fondly, the feeling you had when they were with you in the physical world, and visualize them as perfectly as you can to avoid spiritual confusion.) Their presence will also help protect you. Get something that is pure silver before you begin (not plated) and place it on the board after creating the circle and calling loved ones. Obviously, it will get pushed away if you begin speaking with anyone, but as long as it starts on the board, and stays in your "circle" you should be fine. Anything silver will work, by the way, regardless of size. When everyone is ready, flip the planchette to its upright position. Finally, just be respectful of all entities involved. If you don't get cocky, presumptuous, overly silly (especially with honest, kind, and serious energies), you and your friends will be perfectly fine. Definitely say goodbye and push the planchette to "Goodbye" when you feel uncomfortable, or when ending contact or use of the board, though. It's respectful and provides enough closure to keep unwanted contact down to a minimal. Feel free to contact me if you have any questions, and I will be glad to elaborate or point you in the right direction if I don't have answers. :) Be safe and have fun.</b><br />
<br />
I feel truly pleased with this response, and that I covered the same exact knowledge my friends and I had going into our own Ouija board use as young teenagers. I haven't had the opportunity to use one since, but, as stated, I never had any adverse effects or experiences using these precautions. And I adore, seemingly more than anything, introducing folks of all ages to the use of this endless spiritual knowledge that is available to all if we simply open the door with perfect love and perfect trust.<br />
<br />
Well, I'm off to flip through my books and see what magicks I can conjure on what promises to be a strikingly energectic power day!Renee of the Faehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13081022805749169331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1980198949457903903.post-91507660388741369422018-07-04T09:17:00.001-04:002018-07-04T09:17:37.463-04:00Let's Geek Out for a MinuteAny Pagan worth his salt knows that JK Rowling must have done even a little research into the ancient properties of magickal herbs, stones, and equipment. To the non-Pagan reader, the references she chose to use in her novels may smack of original invention by the lush imagination of such a fine authoress. However, for those of us in the know, Rowling used a fair bit of practices and tools once used (and, in some cases, still utilized) to affect the outcomes of events in the physical world. Perhaps, for this reason, Bible-thumping teachers, parents, and clergy have a fair argument for not allowing children to read the series. (Not that I feel any book should ever be banned from anyone. We should all be allowed to think and decide for ourselves. How else can discoveries be made and proper problem solving techniques develop?) Nevertheless, this is not the point of this post. Those of you that follow this blog and know me know my stance in this debate. No, the point of this post is actually as the title implies: letting your geek flag fly!<br />
<br />
Twice I have signed up on Pottermore. The first was years ago, when it was still set up as an online Hogwarts presence with classes, extra-curriculars, and House points intact. When I answered my House Sorting Quiz as truthfully as I could, Ravenclaw welcomed me with open wings. I wasn't the best student at first, but with determination, my Potions grade moved up to what I felt it should be. It was such fun, and a perfect stress reliever for me. Ah! but life marches on, and I frequented the site less as social interactions, work, and other priorities took over. <br />
<br />
Now, having returned, wondering if any of my grades were still available, or if I had to start from square one, I found the site had changed. It was no longer the Hogwarts experience, but a compilation of information all-encompassing both UK and US magickal schools, movie and character data for all of Rowling's stories, and scads of articles and behind-the-story tidbits. For a Potterhead, this is still a perfectly reasonable way to enjoy a little time on the interwebs, but for a part-time gamer, it certainly isn't as much fun as it was once. House sorting is still a thing, though. One is still required to answer a quiz. I like to think that I am at least a slightly different person than I was when first joining Hogwarts. Certainly, my heart and outlook on life in general has changed. Fundamentally, though, the depth of my personality hasn't deviated much. I'm proud to say that I am still a Ravenclaw. Ravenclaw for life, it seems. This new site has two other quizzes a student can take - Ilvermorny House sorting and Patronus discovery. Amazingly, I have been sorted into the Horned Serpent House; the US equivalent to Ravenclaw. My patronus is a Black Swan. For a bird lover (who is also a secret goth), this continues to tickle me! Seems it took longer to figure it out, too, as the quiz kept slowing down, like it was about to discover my patronus, only to speed back up and need more answers.<br />
<br />
Have any of you joined Pottermore? Had you done so in the past, and find yourself required to re-join when the site changed? Did your House assignment change (was there a space of time when you feel you changed as a real, living human in the real world?) What's your patronus? Did it take a while to emerge? Geek out with me!<br />
Renee of the Faehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13081022805749169331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1980198949457903903.post-70648062564171604392018-06-30T17:59:00.000-04:002018-07-03T17:46:59.959-04:00Beyond HerePosting recent poetry to the largely faceless masses is something that would surprise my past self. While I am no stranger to acting out for fun and attention, my prose has always been relatively private. (Well, mostly. My Snape fan fiction in high school was a big hit amongst my friends...I never did finish that... And I always loved a good writing assignment in my English classes.) I was urged by my seventh grade Reading teacher, Mrs. Hanson (I had to take Reading because I refused to take a language) to submit a piece or two (or three) to a regional poetry contest. While I was not fond of the one she chose to submit without my knowledge, I ended up winning a place in my age category! Somewhere out there I am a published poet. I was made to go to a local assembly at another school, get up in front of a massive crowd, and read my poem aloud. Public speaking has never triggered any sort of visceral response in me, being a theater kid from the start (I had a Charlie McCarthy doll, and can still do a little ventriloquy...if you ask nicely...) It was the baring of my heart and soul for the consumption of strangers, then the growing fear as I neared the end of the reading, wondering if I will also gain their approval as I had the judges. I did, or they were just being kind. Either way, sharing such private memories and feelings in this format, full of similes and metaphors, as a child of 13 was harrowing to say the least.<br />
<br />
Now, though, my need for approval is less than my need for attention. (Haha! I kid...kind of...) Honestly, my poetry could be real crap. Honestly, I don't care if that's the impression others get, now. This public journal may be the modern seeking of attention, but it is also merely a public diary. I am an open book; I always have been. When I start a new job, the intention to keep some cards close to my chest flies straight out the window as soon as one or two people seem to accept me as one of them. And that's okay for the most part. It certainly means I can be crushed more easily than if I could keep my armor on, but it also gives me fodder for writing, drawing, singing, etc. <br />
<br />
I digress. The point of this post is buried deep within the introduction of the reading teacher. When I won the spot in the poetry competition, she went to the assembly and sat with my parents. After the recitations of my age group, I met up with the three of them in the intermission. Mrs. Hanson gifted me a beautiful journal (my first in a very long line, if memory serves), which I vowed to only use for my poetry. Flipping through the pages, I came across a mostly blank page. Apparently, I had been about to write a new piece, but only got as far as the title and "By: Renee Wozniak." That title, which seems rather poignant floating at the top of a blank page in my bitter and jaded middle age, is simply "Beyond Here." I guess I was deeper than anyone knew, including myself.Renee of the Faehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13081022805749169331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1980198949457903903.post-16752902023398320802018-06-30T17:14:00.002-04:002018-06-30T17:14:18.651-04:00Abyss of my PsycheHere is another of my recent poetic birthings. <br />
<br />
For Love of Money<br />
by Renee C. Wozniak<br />
<br />
I recall the nights<br />
so sweet and still<br />
when all the world would sleep<br />
and we would join until<br />
our breath we could no longer catch<br />
and side by side we'd sigh.<br />
<br />
You gave me everything you had<br />
and claimed you had no more<br />
but never did I ask at all<br />
for anything but you.<br />
Yet months drew on and you persisted<br />
thinking that you had resisted<br />
giving me all that I wanted<br />
when all I'd want was you.<br />
<br />
But maybe I was your excuse.<br />
You couldn't face the truth.<br />
It was not me that made us lonely<br />
but your incessant love of money.<br />
<br />
So maybe you found happiness<br />
among your toys and gadgets.<br />
Perhaps within the gold you found<br />
your perfect love in silence.<br />
<br />
Or does your pleasure lay in pity<br />
bestowed upon you by your friends<br />
who tried to tell you love was found<br />
inside the girl you left behind?<br />
<br />
No matter what you tell yourself<br />
to help you sleep at night<br />
I hope you know how deeply hurt<br />
I was when you thrust that knife.<br />
For even now I think that love<br />
is after all a fairy tale.<br />
And time may heal all gaping wounds<br />
but thus far it has failed.<br />
<br />
Written 5/30/2018 at 11:15PM<br />
Renee of the Faehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13081022805749169331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1980198949457903903.post-3723392562625309182018-06-27T09:18:00.001-04:002018-06-27T09:18:23.476-04:00Easy UneaseAs it does every year, Summer has arrived on hazy wings of gold lifted by the soft breezes of birdsong, lighting upon the plethora of greenery that had exploded overnight in Spring. Birds are fledging, if they have not already, and young squirrels are making their ways in the new world as they play the days away.<br />
Outwardly, I am still. I greet the mornings before the dawn, and bid Apollo goodnight as He ties up loose ends on His everlong journey through the skies. Inwardly, my heart is a hummingbird, my blood dangerous rapids. My outer appearance hides the juxtaposition of the swirling storm within. A confused restlessness (akin to a constant pacing with a tiny room that offers many comforts, but where one simply cannot sit) stirs and offers no solution. I can imagine only one cause.<br />
<br />
Wanderlust.<br />
<br />
I have been here for too long, and have gathered moss. My skin itches for adventure and newness. However, financially, this is just not possible right now. As such, I turn to my books and drawings and poetry and music.<br />
<br />
Do you ever feel this easy unease? How do you approach this animal?<br />
Renee of the Faehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13081022805749169331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1980198949457903903.post-65408866616013933492018-06-27T09:00:00.000-04:002018-06-27T09:00:49.705-04:00A Bit of PoetryFor You<br />
by Renee C. Wozniak<br />
<br />
If I close my eyes<br />
keep them shut<br />
will your beauty still blind my senses?<br />
All that you are<br />
and all you hide<br />
bewitches the deepest parts of my mind<br />
refusing rest.<br />
Yet you persist in existence<br />
in ignorance<br />
of me and your haphazard effect<br />
on my senses.<br />
<br />
If you close your eyes<br />
keep them dark<br />
will your pain still maim<br />
your nerves?<br />
All that you are<br />
and try to hide<br />
causes you the deepest anguish<br />
refusing silence.<br />
Yet you persist in existence<br />
in ignorance<br />
of the balm of the sweetness I wish to apply<br />
to your nerves.<br />
<br />
As you keep your secrets sealed,<br />
so, too, are my dreams.<br />
They do not meet as they did<br />
in that trancelike moment<br />
when flesh met flesh.<br />
A moment is enough time<br />
to ignite a spark.<br />
That tiny, short-lived light<br />
burns fierce in my breast.<br />
I keep it burning<br />
for you.<br />
It blinds me<br />
and may singe your nerves.<br />
<br />
Fire is cleansing<br />
as it wipes out old growth.<br />
Allow the vines to<br />
take you over<br />
as they have me.<br />
<br />
<br />
Written May 28, 2018 7:30PM<br />
Renee of the Faehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13081022805749169331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1980198949457903903.post-39360814938311128302018-06-20T09:50:00.002-04:002018-06-20T09:50:25.005-04:00Random Verbose Morning ThoughtsIt is the cusp of Summer, and here, as I listen to VNV Nation's "Chrome" and "Futureperfect," I have put my inner musings into organized letters and broken sentences for your ethereal pleasure. Enjoy. <br />
<br />
<br />
Soft verdure hues in the early morning haze of infant summer caress my gaze with a velvet allure.<br />
<br />
The ambient energy vibrates with an anticipatory eagerness matched only by the restless longing of my caffeinated heartbeat.<br />
<br />
A storm of yearning to sink beneath the surface in the moment while retaining the ability to freely sail away on serene waters rages in perpetuity.<br />
<br />
Calm is illusory in the real chaos of internal human clockwork.<br />
The whitecaps are smoothed out of public vision by refusal to open our eyes to others' mirrored struggles.<br />
We are alone in our connectedness.Renee of the Faehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13081022805749169331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1980198949457903903.post-68668024264049611222018-05-30T18:27:00.002-04:002018-05-30T18:27:23.153-04:00Music Saves the DayWhen I find myself lost inside the façade this world pushes upon me, music brings me back. In fact, years ago a friend was lamenting her creative blockage. For those of you who do not count yourself as "artistic," imagination/creation block is exactly as it sounds; it is another form of that damn writers' block that has plagued thinking types for centuries. I wouldn't be surprised if this exists in every vocation and hobby. This friend of mine sounded so lost, and, having been there time and again, I offered the temporary cure I often use to get the juices flowing.<br />
<br />
Music.<br />
<br />
It's seems like such a trite suggestion, doesn't it? So cliché. Try it the next time you are caught up in your own vine-like thoughts. The music will soothe the tendrils' grips and you may slide to freedom of expression. What's the secret? Actually, there is a trick...and a caveat. The trick? The initial music you listen to can't just be anything, and it can't be what you've been listening to recently. Hop into your own personal time machine. Think back to when you were doing your favorite work. Barring that, go back to the most recent time your were creating. What did you have on repeat in your Walkman/diskman/mp3 player? (WHATEVER, I'M OLD!) That is the key to reclaiming your passion. <br />
<br />
The aforementioned caveat? You will be inspired to recreate the style of that particular time period. It may be short-lived, and you may flow into a new style. Then again, you may end up following it into a new series of that same style that might never have occurred to you back then. Either way, you're creating again!<br />
<br />
Of course, this post reveals the rearing of the monster blockage with whom I seem to struggle fairly regularly. Odd, though. This past semester (yes, I am still working on my degree...It's changed a couple of times...Take off your judgy pants and stay a while.) saw me drawing in charcoal and some ink. You would think that this would free up my mundanity-bound hands for freedom of luscious artistic expression. Well, unbeknownst to me, doing art from life and trying to capture real life images wasn't inspiring me to create as I once did. In fact, it was exhausting! I recall telling my mom over the phone that (*shudder*), "I hate drawing, now." <br />
<br />
Whoa.<br />
...<br />
Whoa.<br />
<br />
Then, last weekend, my sister and I went to Cambridge to see Aurelio Voltaire. <br />
<br />
All of a sudden, I'm drawing new creatures, adjusting and finishing old pieces, and writing poetry, again. Poetry! I haven't written poetry seriously for, well, I really don't know when the last time I wrote like that. The beauty of this change, though, is that I didn't work to make it happen. Voltaire's music brought me back to a time when art was my everything. We hadn't seen him live for 15 years! (Though, it's funny, I have the picture of my sister and I with him at that past show framed on my wall. I've seen it every day for the past three years. She gave it to me as a part of a Christmas gift.) As for other creative outlets of mine, car-aoke will always be a thing; I belt at the light with the best of them! But, after some time, I have my eye on a couple of Voltaire songs I would love to cover for my YouTube channel if I can find instrumentals (and obtain permission. Though, I know not to old my breath. Everyone has their own lives and agendas, and I certainly don't delude myself into thinking I factor into any part of his.) <br />
<br />
The point, though, is that, in dribs and drabs, my creativity and imagination are coming back. And it's all thanks, once again, to music.Renee of the Faehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13081022805749169331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1980198949457903903.post-36590221074629904062018-02-06T16:59:00.000-05:002018-02-06T17:00:21.757-05:00A Call to (Magickal) ArmsJack Frost is taken by the sweetness of Spring. This time of year, here and there he let's her shake her shining locks, the fresh scents of emerging green wafting before us, just out of reach. She makes him want to dance, and he shakes free the flurries of snow that had gathered on his shoulders while he was enchanted by her movements, her laughter, her smile. Spring is Jack's undoing, and he loves it. His laugh bellows out a crisp gust of wintry air, and she is gone again.<br />
<br />
Imbolg sneaks up on me every year, much like the hide and seek Spring begs of sweet Jack. I have my own memories and private thoughts attached to the celebration of purity and newness, yet constantly watch it pass. Perhaps my mind and body are simply mirroring the sentiments of the holiday: safely tucked inside, awaiting rebirth. Here in Massachusetts, February has been the coldest, snowiest month of the year for the past four years, at least. Though it is merely beginning, we are experiencing a small break from this new norm; there are only a few, small piles of snow leftover from the last fall of fluffy white stuff. Well, at least along the lower South Shore, anyway. The spring breezes and sunrises have enticed and enchanted us along with Jack. I can't help thinking that Mother Earth is restless in her hibernation, this year.<br />
<br />
Regardless of my physical indifference to Imbolg, my recent endeavors to settle back into a regular practice and appreciation of the magick that surrounds us have been a little fruitful. Since Lammas of last year, I have been into cross-stitch, and have made one from each holiday since (aside from Imbolg...which I have yet to begin...) Working on my little decorations have helped bring me into the moment, and think on the seasons, their bounties, the life for which I am utterly grateful, and how I may continue to work on myself. For, truly, the voices that called me to this Path spoke to the pieces of me that wanted changing. <br />
<br />
And coming home always makes my heart glow with a warmth akin to Spring's promised sunlight on Jack's chilly visage.Renee of the Faehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13081022805749169331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1980198949457903903.post-41456351909877055442017-05-12T17:50:00.000-04:002017-05-12T17:50:52.838-04:00Waning ThoughtsThe human condition. What a mess! There are so many things we all go through, but no one talks about anything, so we all feel alone from time to time (or more often, depending on how often one feels different.) But we're not. We none of us are really all that different. And it's maddening!<br />
Technology connects people all around the world, but in the end, it's ruining our ability to truly communicate. Shooting words thousands of miles via wires is a form of communication that doesn't require a human connection. And, for business, to a certain extent, that's all well and good. But even then, it can put a strain on business relationships, as well. Personal relationships, though, how do we cultivate those without contact? Tone is lost in text. Feeling is absent in the inability to, say, touch a hand because one would rather convey thoughts through text messages. Have we become the failed half of the Harlow experiments? Are we running to the cold, robotic mother for comfort, leaving the warm, soft apparatus untouched?<br />
Where have we gone wrong? Are we Rome? Is this Mankind's Fall?Renee of the Faehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13081022805749169331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1980198949457903903.post-59423404230889264142017-04-12T09:31:00.001-04:002017-04-12T09:37:37.895-04:00Things I Wish I'd Known or Realized When I Was a Child~Make friends with the things that go bump in the night. Doing so will make embracing the necessary balance or light and dark (both tangible and otherwise) easier. Also, it will save you money on future electricity bills.<br />
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~Don't be contrary for the sake of being different. We are all different in our own ways, so refusing to try something because you "don't like it" (even though you've never even had it before) doesn't do anyone any good. Try it once every seven years, too. Taste-buds change.<br />
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~Keep reading. Yes, reading aloud in class because you're forced to is embarrassing. That never changes. We were asked to volunteer to read something out loud at a work meeting the other day. No one jumped up for that, either. But keep reading. Even if you think you hate reading, eventually you will devour a book that consumes your imagination. That book will be your gateway drug into bigger and deeper stories. I promise, it won't be like reading in class or for an assignment. The only time-constraints will be set by you; no deadlines, no eyes of peers staring you down, no teachers telling you to "sound it out."<br />
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~Talk to your elders. Seriously. This is something I try to do every time I'm near the older members of my family (and did as a kid, but not nearly as much as I now realize I should have...) Ask them what life was like. Ask them to tell you stories that their grandparents told them. Ask if there are any family members that you don't know, and what are their stories? Embrace where you come from. In a world where we are told to embrace differences, but treat everyone like they are the same, having roots and knowledge of your own family can help you keep your bearings, and bring you back to yourself when you're confused.<br />
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~On that note...Get lost! Go somewhere you've never been before. Start small, though. Take a side road you've passed on the way home dozens of times, and have wondered where it lead, but never taken.<br />
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~Don't get into the habit of telling white lies to avoid hurting feelings only to turn around and talk about someone behind his or her back. It's a nasty habit (even if it was born of good intentions) that roots and grows as quickly as dandelions, and it's as difficult to overcome. There's no "weed killer" for this type of behavior.<br />
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~Stop telling everyone you can't, because your conviction is convincing your own self. My mother constantly told me that it was likely I got my inability to understand math from her, and it was my father who was the "math person" in our house. Making that comparison, and never wanting to be like him, I naturally accepted defeat, and grew up strengthening that belief as I told countless others that I couldn't "do math." When it clicked once in a while, I chalked it up to luck. Then, I stopped telling the world, and myself, that I was bad at math. What happened then was an incredibly uplifting and proud semester of Statistics in college. The same goes for my memory. It's faulty, of course it is; I'm human, but when I reduced the amount of times I told the world "I have a terrible memory," my recall was quicker and more varied. <br />
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~The world is not very big, but it will always feel HUGE if you never go anywhere.<br />
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~Everyone is weird. We all have our secrets. But there is at least one other person out there with the same secret, so you're not alone.<br />
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~Wishes DO come true, so choose those words wisely. Additionally, the rule of a wish taking 8 years for fulfillment is true. Be patient, but don't just wait for it to complete. Fill your time with other activities and things that you CAN control.<br />
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~You may envy others, but you are not the bottom man on the pole; there are others that want what you have. Similarly, realize you dislike that person because you see something in them that reminds you of you. Fix yourself, and you will gain that which you seek.<br />
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~Keep using your imagination. Just like muscles, your creativity can atrophy. Just like unused parts of your brain, like those neurons that have not been strengthened through regular practice, your imagination can dissolve. Don't let the harsh realities of the world embitter and jade you. Appreciate the wonder of the stars at night, keep the rusted gate song of the Red Wing Blackbirds in your heart, feel the warm embrace of the summer breeze, and see the magic in all that is within and without. There are always going to be people that don't understand and can't see it, but they are none of your concern.<br />
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~Above all, keep being you, in every incarnation. Change only for yourself.Renee of the Faehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13081022805749169331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1980198949457903903.post-39822609676588834082017-03-18T10:23:00.002-04:002017-03-18T10:23:36.397-04:00Recovering My SoulTeachers (proper teachers that take up the mantle out of self-curiosity and care for the education of others, not those that realize shortly after their first assignments that teaching isn't truly what they want to do) see everything. The collective knowledge through observation of the generations of teachers in our human world is astounding. They see what parents don't. They observe patterns students don't realize they display. Teachers are seers with the ability to help guide and mold us. Sometimes, their observations are so acute that one immediately dismisses the suggestion of a career out of fear ("That's too close to home." "That's too obvious, and would be too easy to achieve; there must be some sort of struggle!") or disbelief that someone known for a year or less can pinpoint one's destiny. Either way, one such observation has followed me throughout my life, beginning as far back as third or fourth grade. <br />
What Miss Chaplinski, my art teacher, saw in me at such an early age I will never know. Yet, it was then the potential career of teaching was first put before me. How could a child inspire such a lofty thought to a grown up that one day she should lead inquisitive minds? All I wanted to do for the majority of school years was to be an artist or an actress. Why would I want to teach, having seen how disrespectful the majority of students were to every one of my teachers? I loathed school from second grade through junior year, and only found my happiness in acting, singing, or creating art. Why would I want to spend the rest of my life there, surrounded by others who most likely felt the same as I had? It was all very funny, as teacher after teacher tried to convince me it was the path I was meant to tread. <br />
Now, I find they were right, in a way. <br />
Sharing the random facts I seem to collect like so much dust in a cobweb softly clinging to the high corner of an old, closed-up room gives me joy nearly everyday at work. However, what I have come to realize is that teaching isn't always the drudgery of my formative years. Likewise, I have come to accept that my teachers and mentors were all right; I am a teacher. For better or worse, I share knowledge, guide minds, and (Goddess forfend!) lead people with information. They may all do what they will with the tools I give, as I have done. My library will swell (no difference in its life from its beginning), my adventures will contain comrades, and my solitary adventures will gain an extra bit of thought for the how and why to be added to discussions, my observations will be used for guidance of others' observations; which will morph as discussions ensue. For, now I have a small group of friends with inquisitive minds, asking I teach them what I know. <br />
I don't <i>know</i> anything, though.<br />
Life, experiences, and new information changes everything. <br />
But I will gladly share what I have accumulated. My library is available to those who respect it. My experiences are open for discussion if they will assist in those of others. I will observe and guide and mold as those who have come to me with observations and guidance. And I will do my best to be present and true to myself throughout. For, what good is a teacher who doesn't even know herself? My experiences thus far in my short time in this life are varied and deep enough to convince me that I know exactly who I am. I suppose, now, I shall add "teacher" to this list of qualifiers.Renee of the Faehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13081022805749169331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1980198949457903903.post-50209154228106734032016-03-12T20:31:00.001-05:002018-02-12T09:00:59.728-05:00Emotionally ExhaustedMarianne Dashwood, how I feel your deepest, open wound. When you cannot eat, cannot sleep (or can do nothing but), cannot focus on the conversation before you after the devastation that Willoughby hath wrought! Oh! That pain I feel! For three weeks before my dearest broke the news to me, I could not eat. I could barely sleep. I could only wander in a tear-filled haze, trembling from the sheer exhaustion of existing. And then it worsened. He told me he "probably shouldn't have a girlfriend right now." And my world stopped. <br />
For the past seven years, aside from that short period of time I attempted online dating, I have been single. I have come to know myself, what I wanted in a partner, and have found silent comfort in moments of solitude. He was suddenly there, and everything I wanted and needed.<br />
I love him.<br />
Sleep, when it comes, is such a dear comfort to me. Waking is a hard knife in my heart. Living is a dark cloud that neither brings rain nor surrenders to sun. Every damn day is...indescribable pain. The love I felt when we were a couple was that of fairy tales. It was incredible. It was the kind jaded people say doesn't exist. The pain from the loss of such a love is easily one million, no - one trillion, no - infinite lifetimes worth of the deepest, darkest, most numbing pain any creature can ever know. <br />
Yet, when we were together, I knew Heaven. I knew completeness. <br />
Now, I know pain. I know what being let down truly feels like. To be a part of something so out of this world, then suddenly have it ripped from you as if it were your skin...<br />
People have described the loss of a loved one as losing a part of one's soul; a part of your heart feels like it's missing. Nothing can be more appropriate here, yet feel so superficial. What I am feeling is so much more. And indescribable. A piece of me is missing, yes. My heart is broken, yes. Everything hurts. <br />
I am so tired.<br />
I am so broken.<br />
I am so lost.<br />
And life is so long.<br />
I have so many more years ahead of me, and sleep is the only thing that comforts my aching.<br />
I would walk forever if it meant he'd return to me. I would wear out endless pairs of iron shoes wandering the Earth for him.<br />
I only wish that he could look past material things. I wish he could feel love, like he said he used to.<br />
It was a fairy tale love. Maybe he's under some greedy spell? <br />
And people say, "He wasn't the one. The one will be amazing!"<br />
And I say, "He was the one, he just wasn't ready. We're on different time-frames." <br />
But if the high of being with him was so exquisite, and this low is so nearly unbearable, why would I chance feeling like this again? What if the next one isn't "the one," feels just as great, if not (impossibly) better to be with, but ends in a break up, too? Why would I even entertain the thought of going through this level of Hell, again? I would have to be crazy, stupid, or a glutton for punishment. <br />
Love is not worth the pain.<br />
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***UPDATE: I maintain this point of view. While the pain has subsided, for the most part, the memory of it remains. Nothing is worth feeling like I did when I wrote the original post. Being single is far sweeter.<br />
Renee of the Faehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13081022805749169331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1980198949457903903.post-13170702740910993282016-02-01T12:11:00.002-05:002016-02-01T12:11:23.192-05:00Of Water Elementals and GodsMy dreams have been full of jump-scares, of late. Often, these are antagonists against my in-dream character that follow me to "my" room (which seems to be that of my prepubescent childhood), where I close the door behind me, then quickly turn to lean against it while trying to hold the knob steady against my would-be intruder. They've been able to open the door just enough to stick their faces through ala Jack Nickleson in The Shining. It's always men, too.<br />
Last night, however, my dream was full of strange occurrences of water spouts in threes, and a giant rising Moon. <br />
"No!" I protested within the dream, standing inside the house and looking out a great picture window. "That's Jupiter!" And I ran out to lie on the grass to watch the massive planet so close I could almost touch as it soared over our dwarfed planet. Then, I see it rotate as it passes - there was Africa. And part of the Americas. And the North Pole. I ran back into the house, "It's Earth! It wasn't Jupiter! I saw Africa on its surface!"<br />
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Water is the element against which I fight the most.<br />
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The most emotional element.<br />
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At first glance, there was no grounding in the dream. People that got too close to the water (over which a restaurant was in business, and the outdoor seating was built...and where the water spouts gracefully dipped undetected below the surface) where sucked in. They disappeared much like the spouts after a final leap above to gasp air. The water swallowed all things that fought its power.<br />
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And the Moon (Diana) became Jupiter (Zeus). But Why Zeus? Being the Emperor of Gods, does he embody all elements? Zeus' lightning often coincides with the rains. Ah! But it wasn't the Moon, whose waxing and waning dictate the tides of Neptune. Nor was it Jupiter in his great paradox of calm fury. Neither was it watery Neptune, but Earth.<br />
Here is the grounding. Earth, Gaea, roots. She glided above me. She made her silent, slow rotation, showing me her mountains, seas, glacial caps, deserts, and grasslands. She showed me, from afar, possibilities that cannot be seen when one is at ground level.<br />
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I fight the communion with Water regularly. As an Air sign, and truly one of a feather on the wing in the wind, I know what damage Water can do. It can be useful at the right time, but if one stays too long, it's clarity becomes fogged. It will saturate you, and make you part of it. There is no return from a full surrender to Water. The ground lets me land and rest, but it provides a launch pad when I need to go. Earth nourishes; Water envelopes. <br />
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I've always fought the communion with Water. Perhaps this dream reminds me that I cannot always fight it. It is part of my chemical make-up, after all. Part of me should relish its embrace, while still allowing me to step from it when I feel the sucking of it's depths on my toes.<br />
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The last few weeks, I have given in to despair in my solitude. That is far too long, and the joy of life is draining from me. The sucking of the depths on my toes has moved up to begin a consumption of my legs. Nearly half of me is succumbing to the exhaustion of regular emotional communion with the element. <br />
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I need to fly. I need to find ground, and leap skyward if I am to survive my experience with the element of emotion. <br />
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Here, my dream's bare bones are these:<br />
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~I stopped fighting against what Water needed to teach me. My curiosity drew me into the depths, and, once I stopped fighting, I found comfort in releasing my emotions there.<br />
~As a soul naturally guided by air, I was sucked into my watery despair. And, again, as an airy spirit, I could not find ground to help myself out.<br />
~Now, being awakened by Earth, I find that grounding is necessary - I need to pull myself from this state to be free once again.<br />
~I am reminded by Jupiter that I have all that I need to do and be who I am meant to be in this life. Afloat in the sea of woe that I was, I could not make head nor tails of anything in my life. I was adrift. And, while I still may be confused of my direction, meditation and determination must be my tools to successfully get myself back on track. <br />
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I feel that I am blessed by understanding people in my life. However, all of the advice and secondhand knowledge one has in this world is nothing if one cannot use it. I feel blessed that I can assimilate information through my dreams, and have the patience to listen to what my own heart and mind make of what others share with me in addition to what I know already.Renee of the Faehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13081022805749169331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1980198949457903903.post-16738558879456415412016-01-28T16:32:00.005-05:002016-01-28T16:32:34.620-05:00Overthinking ItFrom grade school, to junior high, to high school, to adult life, "overthinking it" has been my mantra through sighs time and again. When life is great, overthinking takes a back seat. However, that old, familiar feeling eventually creeps back into my mind when I feel that I'm falling short in some aspect or another. <br />
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A solstice comes and goes without so much as a prayer, let alone a ritual - "Am I a good Pagan?" <br />
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A new class begins with an overwhelming misunderstanding of the material - "Is this really what I want to do with my life?" <br />
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A new man becomes an important part of your world, then begins to disappear - "Did I come on too strong?"<br />
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In the end, the overthinking leads to deep self-doubt, regardless of the situation. <br />
But why?<br />
Why do I feel "less than" when I think about situations more than what society seems to put out as "normal?" What is the norm for thinking? Is there a minimum and a maximum level of thought that is expected in defined moments? Who decides what is too much? In bullying and abuse cases, the victims are the people who decide what is "too much." So, if Jane is feeling put out with a problem she may have, does she define the "right" level of processing? But what if Jane's issue is all in her head? She can talk about it with someone to decide if that is the case. And, if Jane is overthinking an issue with John that she's made up on her own, does John define the level of thought as "too much?" Does that make him the victim, and so, the deciding party? And, what if Jane and John have an issue, agreed upon by both at the beginning of said conversation? Does the most offended person have the right to blow up? <br />
No.<br />
No situation gives any party the right to blow up. That implies total loss of control, and will only end in further conflict; no resolution there.<br />
But, how does one explain thoughts that have inflated beyond the situation so that the conflict (or imagined conflict) can be resolved? I know I'm not the only one here who has had inner conflict, and wanted so badly to discuss it with the other party, but terrified to do so. "What if he shuts down? What if he's not interested in making it work? What if I scare him away with my neediness?" That happened. And the conversation happened. And he played it off. And I stopped texting him first to see if I'd ever hear from him again.<br />
And I never did.<br />
Some of you who have been readers for a while may recall that whole mess.<br />
So, you'll excuse me if my trust issues are coming back around. Previous boyfriends whittled my trust when they cheated on me (which pretty near all of my boyfriends have done.) Then, that guy introduced a whole new kind of mistrust - mistrust in myself. I let myself revolve my life around him. I became *that* girl. You all know her (some of you may be her, too) - she's independent, but the moment a new, amazing guy waltzes into her life, hobbies, aspirations, free time = gone. He may not even be asking it of her, but she gives it up freely. Whether or not it's attractive to the opposite sex (or same sex, no judgement here), is irrelevant, I feel. Maybe I feel it's irrelevant because I don't want it to be relevant, because I am that girl. Who knows? In any case, I want to be loved and wanted as much as I love and want someone else. I don't think that's asking too much.<br />
Then again, maybe I'm overthinking it?Renee of the Faehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13081022805749169331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1980198949457903903.post-70681179187539000672016-01-14T20:42:00.003-05:002016-01-15T20:49:40.831-05:00Enough...?It's never enough. I was single for roughly seven years. (Those failed attempts at relationships in the past few years don't count, because love was never truly exchanged.) Now, happily...ish, I find myself nearly seven months into a new relationship. He is everything I've always wanted and needed, and some things I never knew I wanted (and needed.) He is my Sun, Moon, and all of my stars. <br />
Then there's that "ish."<br />
We're moving together, but at different paces. Think of me walking a few steps ahead of him. We're going in the same direction with (I'm fairly certain) the same endgame in mind. But I feel disjointed. I want him to move at a pace that works for him, but I'm getting impatient.<br />
Why can't knowing I am with this incredible man be enough? Why do I have to second guess myself, or him?<br />
And, bad Pagan! I found myself flipping through one of my BoSs the other day. Boo! Hiss! I know. I haven't considered that option since I was new to the Path in high school. I know better, and would never resort to manipulation. But when you are ready to move forward, and the loneliness is comparative to that experienced when you were single, how can you stay strong?<br />
I want him to realize that I am not going anywhere, I have a love so pure that begs to be shared, and want him to continue to grow and be who he is, so there is no need to be afraid to leap. I'm all in. <br />
Is the question, then, not "Why isn't being in a relationship enough for me?" but rather, "Am I just not enough?"<br />
Have you found your Sun and Moon? Did you wonder if he/she felt less than excited in the beginning? How did it pan out? Naturally, I'm afraid of the answers. Also, my over thinking could well be that my hypothyroid is out of whack again. Ugh...Renee of the Faehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13081022805749169331noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1980198949457903903.post-7570817936170477202015-11-15T14:22:00.001-05:002015-11-15T14:22:07.013-05:00Spam, Time and AgainOnce again I turn to my attention to the blogosphere. Once again thanks is due to spam comments. Once again I am compelled to update those loyal few who still keep me around. <br />
School continues. I am currently nearing the end of my umpteenth 2-course semester. This time, I am studying General Psychology (online) and Intro to Theater (on campus.) This past summer (it seems so long ago, now), I was offered the role of Helena in A Midsummer Night's Dream with a local theater group. They welcomed me with open arms, and I loved every minute of it! This re-entry into theater shook my dramatic dragon, and gave me the impetus to potentially pursue acting, after all. However, that little dragon lost his fire, and promptly curled back up atop his hoard and drifted off to dreamland once more. He may awaken again someday, but, for now, I am turning my attention back to Zoology. <br />
I have made a couple more puppets, with others planning themselves out in my mind. My new man inspires me to be who I am, but to aspire to great things. Little by little, I am moving ever forward. Never more backward.<br />
But tell me, dear friends, what inspires you? What ignites your fire? What fans your flames?Renee of the Faehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13081022805749169331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1980198949457903903.post-18407401855038236582015-02-09T10:46:00.001-05:002015-02-09T10:46:20.236-05:00Reminiscing and the Internet's Valentine WoesThis time every year, society explodes into a war between three parties: those who love Valentine's Day, those who loathe it, and those who complain about others' complaints that the day is/isn't necessary. I tend to bounce back and forth, if I'm being honest.<br />
A spam comment brought me here, today. Surprisingly, it was not the V-Day argument. That spam comment was neatly placed on a post from February 2010 titled "Being Single." In bullet-point form, I had listed some of my favorite things about singlehood. Then, I went on to read the comments. The last was a response to Bridget, which stated that the length of my planned reply was far better used as a follow-up post for the first week of March that year. So, being the narcissist that I am, I went on and read that post and its comments. (Some people like to hear themselves speak. I like to look at my reflection and read my writings. I fully admit it.)<br />
And, here I am, sitting at my computer, early-February. Still single. Still experiencing twinges of that all-too-familiar loneliness. However, present Renee is quite different from 2010 Renee. I suppose 5 years changes a person. Well, changes occur to those who are willing. I was willing. Still am. So, you know, that hasn't changed. Change is constant. Why fight it? I digress.<br />
Since that post, I have asked guys out, been set up, been flattered by strangers online. (Bots? Maybe? Who cares?! They're flattering me!) But I have learned so much more about myself through those encounters. My life has changed by leaps and bounds. I was artistically inspired, physically motivated, academically aroused. I saw others that I liked going places that I wanted to be, and their muses became mine. <br />
Outwardly, my life looks so similar to what it was two years ago. Inwardly, new gears have been maintained and oiled and have begun grinding into movement. Some new plans have been set into motion, and I am apprehensive, yet excited to see where these next steps will take me. <br />
Change is constant. Being single has been a part of my identity for the past few years. While it may not always be constant, I cannot rule out that possibility. While I am still single, I am still OK with the position. So, let me just say this: Do what you feel on St. Valentine's Day. Love it. Loathe it. Revel in it. Ignore it. Wallow in your loneliness (whether you're in a relationship or not.) In the end, it's just another day to embrace yourself, change, and the changes within.Renee of the Faehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13081022805749169331noreply@blogger.com0