Bonsaaaaiiiiiii!!!!

BONSAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIII

How many of us yelled this as we, bodies curled tightly, launched ourselves as cannonballs into a favorite swimming hole or pool? I know I did, repeatedly, while aiming to soak my friends in the biggest splash ever.  It wasn’t until Karate Kid came out that I realized it was more than a fun word, that it is an art form with a far reaching history delving through Japan and into China. Even as Mr. Miyagi shared his love with Daniel-son, as Daniel and his girlfriend (in KK3) tried to get the perfect tree from the side of a cliff, the true glory of these carefully crafted plants went right over my head.

Originally from China, the art of Peijing (Chinese landscape) was adopted by the Japanese and combined with Suiseki (the Japanese way of viewing naturally formed stones as works of art) to create Bonsai.

My first Bonsai, a Chinese Elm

In its literal translation “Bon” means little pot and “Sai” means planting, so together we get those lovely plantings in a little pot. However, while we think of the actual little trees when we hear the word, a Bonsai is MUCH more than that. The type of tree grown dictates how it should be delicately pruned to shape and mould its path. The vessel it is grown in, from the colors to the shapes have meaning- whether to energize or, more commonly, to relax. Naturally formed stones, and the layout of them on the earth of the pot, is just as much part of the representational art as the tree choice is. Everything about a Bonsai requires thought, love, dedication and the end result is a fulfilling, reciprocating piece of nature.

Whodda thunk, right?

What is so incredible for me is that these need not be special trees that cost a tonne of money either. Thanks to the root binding of the pot, their growth is controlled. There are several tree types that adapt to becoming a Bonsai exquisitely, anything from an Elm (Chinese Elm often called the “beginner Bonsai”) to a Pomegranate or other fruit trees to even my favorite herb, Rosemary.

Here is where I have to admit to being quite the novice. My husband thought one of these would make a wonderful wedding gift for me, and I now receive one at each anniversary (though I am requesting he stop around 15 or so, I think. Lol).  The art itself representing love, beauty and longevity means he was absolutely right. During our deep winters here in the north I have found them to be an incredible piece of nature for me to care for while I am missing the fullness of my garden. There has also been the joy of discovery. The one I received this past October dropped its leaves for its winter hibernation. They have since come back accompanied by deep pink bunds that are now bursting into magenta fringe flowers. Since he ordered it online as a gift, it came with no information about what it was, which means every stage is a magnificent surprise (btw, it’s a Fringe Flower tree).

Unlike any other plant I share space with, Bonsai require a bit…more. This isn’t saying they are difficult because they aren’t, however they can’t dry out and throughout summer need to be fertilized every other week with a nitrogen rich liquid fertilizer. The peaceful art of pruning the Bonsai is a process of learning and patience that involves controlling both the upper growth and the root system. Taking it slowly, learning before acting, small steps, etc. Generally when I get excited about something I barrel in headfirst, which is exactly the opposite of what these gorgeous bits require and what I needed. The lessons I’ve learned have been wonderful in every other aspect of my life.

For those who are apartment dwellers longing for nature indoors, these are amazing. The earthy nature of the tree, a nice fire-pottery pot, a covering of river smoothed stones, the smell of the tree wafting on the breeze through an open window- it’s one of the most relaxing pieces of nature you can invite into your home.

And for those, like me, who come to love this art form this is one of the most sublime ways to literally create your own sacred grove indoors. A bit of research should lead you to discovering which Bonsai trees best fit your representation of a sacred grove. You can place them around your home, your altar room or whatever space you deem as sacred. Keep in mind that with proper care Bonsai will literally last generations making this a spiritual journey and art form that you can share with your children, your grand-children, creating your own family tradition.

Kindness and peace to you.

As The Teeter Totters

“Hold everything in balance. Without it, chaos and destruction prevail.”- Mercedes Lackey


I have a confession to make. I am a Libra. It’s not a secret but if you know me and you know the traits of a Libra, how it applies to me becomes almost comical. I am a very chatty diplomat who can see the many, many sides of almost any argument. I had to train myself to overcome my indecision the way some will train themselves to quit smoking or cease going to the bar every day after work. Let me tell you, that quote is so true. All of those points of life brought me nothing but chaos and frustration. This moved me in my quest for something absolutely Libran, balance.

Balance is a buzzword we hear so often. Self-help books and shows are riddled with it. We need to find it, obtain it and own it. They are all so quick to say this but none really say how. Find more time, money, people, etc. Easier said than done.

I love polarities and extremes but only if the opposing side is represented. See, I don’t live on the fulcrum, the midpoint where everything balances, the place where there is no motion, and therein lies the problem. If there is no motion there is no opportunity for growth and I’ve always been a learner, researcher, doer, adventurer, curiosity driven sort of person. So while I strive for balance, I live in extremes.

For example, in my day-to-day life I am an artist, of sorts. I thrive in the elements, a child of nature. I adore old homes with colored walls with lots of personalized decorations, and loathe living in a modern, white painted world.  I do a lot of things the “old fashioned” way because if it ain’t broke…  My husband is the absolute polar opposite. He is a tech-geek who would merrily spend his life eating frozen dinners, cloistered inside playing on his computers while never really personalizing his environment. I’m pagan (obviously) and he’s atheist. I’m a DIY-er, he’s a BUY-er.  Of course we have our similarities, that fulcrum, that midpoint where we mesh perfectly. Otherwise, he is my anchor, my grounding force and I lift him to new heights. We are perfectly balanced.

There was a time when I believed I needed to be with someone like me. It was this crazy relationship filled with lust and power but it was too much, too unbalanced. There was no middle ground, no polarity to keep us from overwhelming the other and it was destined to fail. That was my first, but not my last, lesson in balance.

In my post about Akasha and animism, I mentioned that I spent a lot of time working and training with varying Wiccan groups while attempting to run from my truth. In that time I worked with a Dianic group. This group, by far, was the most imbalanced group I had ever seen- all while believing they were in perfect step with nature. No men were allowed in the innermost circle. “God” was a word that would cause hair to stand on end and backs to bristle. I recall standing there and wondering how any of this was better than the Christian world that shunned women. Two sides of the same coin and I was left as poor as I was when I started, but even more discouraged.

Yet, from this experience, from watching my family turn from Spiritualism to Evangelistic Christianity I came to fully understand that one without the other is an empty hole, an incomplete whole. This is when I sat down and I really thought about it, and I delved into it.

We can not live without balance. I’ve seen entirely too many people claim to be a “white witch” to claim they are good even when they knowlingly do things that hurts others. I’ve heard some say that someone is doing “dark magic” when they simply mean something they don’t agree with. What I came to realize is that if we live only in a white world then we are just as blind as we are if we are left only to the depths of blackness. If we leave plants only in the light they burn up and die and if we only leave them in the dark, they will never come to life. We can not exist in the place of extremes without the other side. Think of all of the things we were told as children to never, ever do. It’s impossible to live that life. To be all “good”, all the time, unfailingly. What happens when truth and hurt cross lines? Do we commit the sin of lying to save hurt or do we crush someone to keep from lying?  Without winter slumber the success of summer can not occur. Without something dying, there is no living. Most importantly, while a woman may be the carrier of life, without a man our vessels remain empty and our bodies barren. We can not actually come into being without each other, so why should our faith be any different?

For me, the first steps were knowing myself and what is important to me. Using my marriage as my example, when I thought about it I realized that it wasn’t important to me if my husband is pagan, as long as he has respect for my beliefs- which he does. There are things that we are unbendable on, things we should compromise on and things that are really not very important at all. Knowing those things about myself made it much easier for me to find balance. Things that are not important to me or things I can compromise on can live on extreme ends. My husband deplores gardening, I love it. We compromised on it so that I tend the garden beds and he (or our son) do the mowing and the weed whacking. Opposite ends that work together. Another is that my family hates cooked spinach, I love it. I make it and they don’t eat it. It’s simply not important.

The things that are important to me are those things resting on the fulcrum.  My husband and I share very similar liberal views. We share a similar moral base upon which we raise our son. This is where we balance our extremes and where we meet in the middle (for a very simplified overview).

The next part for me in achieving balance came with something I discussed in the “A’s”. Acceptance. When I accepted that sometimes I will hurt people, even unintentionally, made amends and forgave myself- then I was able to find balance. I learned to accept that while I definitely find more comfort and “goodness” in darkness that the light has its purpose too so I can’t condemn the sun shining every day or else my garden suffers. When I embraced that there is truly no “good” and “bad”, that I/we are both. We are all of it rolled into one fleshy, meaty package. We simply can not live without causing disruption somewhere, we can not live without ever hurting something or someone- even just to eat to survive- this has helped me live a better, truer and more honest life. It allowed me to forgive myself of the harm I may have caused. I released guilt and was able to move on with my life. As I looked at the delicate balance in every natural being, I felt more part of that.

Once that came into light I also came to understand that life itself will not allow us to live on the fulcrum, on that perfect balancing point. There are days so filled with sadness that all we want to do is curl up and weep, yet other days are so filled with joy we are ready to burst. Cloudless, star filled nights can be followed by stormy, gray days. Nothing is static. The teeter board is always tottering. There are times when I can make it happen, when I can shift the balance and there are times when I must simply accept this is what I have been handed to make the most of. Still extremes but how I deal with them is where I find the balance point. I can allow life to be disrupted or I can glean what I can learn from it and move along. Balance in our lives is never actually perfect balance as much as it is a pendulum swinging, always back and forth. That sway is a good thing, whether subtle or rapid, motion is good because it’s when we’re sitting at the bottom or resting on the balance point, that’s when we go nowhere.

When I started to apply the same questions to my faith, things became more clear and in balance.
We’re taught that faith must be a group activity, from churches to mosques to covens we are told we need to seek out leadership, guidance and community. Did I really require that? Was it important? I found out that for me, it wasn’t. What was important was the balance of male/female, of the elements, of no one person/life being more important than the next.  I left the Dianic group to find something more in line with my beliefs, that for all the female power in the world, male must be present to balance it out. On bad days I know that good will come, which makes them easier to handle. I know that when I make a mistake it’s okay, and to learn, and minimize the damage to others.  This is how I’ve come to live what I believe is a balanced life.

As a Libra I have always felt the need for this perfect balance in everything, this illusion of perfect placement in life. Now that I understand we can not have one extreme without the other and that we can not grow while sitting in the middle I appreciate all sides even more now. I enjoy the sun, I learn from sadness and I still get to eat my spinach too.

Always with blessings and kindess.

The Marriage of Akasha and Animism

Akasha meets Animism
They assess each other.
Akasha feels a kinship with Animism.
Animism soars with Akasha.
It’s the perfect marriage really.

Confused yet?
Wouldn’t blame you if you are.

Let me clarify just a little bit by first saying, I am not Wiccan. I’ve studied it. I’ve worked with groups that were Dianic, Celtic, Egyptian, Norse and so much more. I’ve worked with Native American groups, Druids, Shamans of varying forms. The experiences were always enlightening but, well…you know when you have that light salad for lunch and you’re so happy because you know you’ve done something good for you but then by dinner you are so famished that your own leg looks like a tasty morsel? Yeah. That’s how I felt…wiser, better for the experience but not fulfilled.

See, I had the extreme blessing to be raised in a Spiritualist family right from the start. I had the extreme blessing of knowing my great-grandmother and the siblings of my grandparents. Lessons in the kitchen were handed down through generations, as were the wisdoms and superstitions of the garden, treasures about honouring life and the sacrifice everything makes for the survival of something else, the truth of Spirit, all of it ancestrally passed down…that was in me from the start. Of course I rebelled, thinking there was something more, some rules that HAD to be adhered to, some form that needed to be followed that my family didn’t know about, some enlightenment they could never know. In the end, I was wrong and (at least about that part of things) they were right. Family and family friends helped me “tap in” and “tune out” beyond the veil. My grandmothers taught me about the power of the hearth, herbs, of nature, of our place in it all, the traditions and histories. My father was king of the hunt and of the working the land, literally. This was a family tradition that had nothing to do with formal religion. This is a way of life, which explains why when I went looking for “religion” I was left so wanting.

What in the bloody blue blazes does this have to do with Akasha and Animism?  For me, absolutely everything.

We were sort-of introduced to Akasha through Merlyn’s blog the first week, when she spoke about the Akashic Library which is a specific belief by those who practice Theosophy. Akasha itself is different. It is the term given by multitudes of religions (mostly of the Eastern base) to describe the universal energy, the Universe, the one energy that unites every living being, that imbues us with life. It’s the start of the cosmos, the first element of creation (of the 5), the one that can not be perceived, the beginning of all material things. It is the very fabric from which all living things are made, the very point of the pentacle, that which fills the empty spaces and why those who are attuned with it feel a kinship with other living things. In science it’s the big bang and cells (the smallest building blocks of life, atoms are the smallest building blocks of matter).

Here is where we come to the first bump while riding the Akashic wave. The definition of “living” has changed over the years but what remains is that it must: feed, reproduce, “breathe”.  That drive is common to every living thing. That desire to live and thrive. That spark of life. That is where we find Akasha. In harmony and balance with the other elements, because without all five, we all die.

Without the Akasha, the macro, Animism, the micro, is so lonely. See, while we all share the common energy of Akasha, the belief that all living things have a soul is Animism. Now, naysayers and doubters will joke and laugh about plants talking back but really, that leads us to define what a “soul” is. This is where things get really hairy.

What is a soul? Some say it’s the spiritual core. I’ve heard claim that it is the heart of our lives- our deepest dreams and fears. Others say it is our intelligence, our wisdom, our subconscious existence. The argument has even been made that it is our emotional center. This is something we all must decide for ourselves but when I stop and think about it, I wonder…does it matter?

Here’s what I do know, all living things communicate needs, at least on a very basic level. Plants wilt, animals vocalize, some insects use body language…all life. Every living thing is dependent on another. We kill to survive, whether it’s an animal or a plant. It’s a basic, and sometimes unpleasant, truth. Everything living thrives on the dead but more than that, everything has the desire to live. No plant breaks free of it’s seeds and fights through the soil wanting to die. No animal is born with the desire to throw itself off a precipice. All living things have a natural survival instinct from birth. Akasha gives us that life, our souls keep it going.

My personal belief is that the soul lives in that primal place where those actions stem from. In our lives we add to that place. Each incarnation becomes farther from the rudimentary beginnings as more and more wisdom is collected. Depending on the place in the life chain, some living things seem to have more Akasha- more fight for life, some have more soul or spirit. Honouring those energies, tapping into those connections, that is what makes me the witch that I am- an Akashic, kitchen, ancestral, elemental pagan.

And for those wondering, I am an omnivore. I feel absolutely no guilt over eating meat because it would also mean I would need to feel guilt over eating plants- perhaps moreso because they are ones I grow from seed, ones that I nurture into strong maturity so that it may then nourish the lives of those I love. I do not believe in feeling guilt over being part of the cycle of life. I do not feel that any animal is more important and needing to be saved over any plant. Now, to be sure, I do not believe in or condone poaching (killing for the sake of “sport”), and I always use as much as possible if not all of whatever our food source is. I honour those lives above all others because they nourish my life, just as someday I will respond in kind. It is my belief that I can not be an equal part of something if I believe that either myself or any other creature is more important than the next, no animal is more important than any plant. No life is more worthy than any other because Akasha lives within us all, helping our souls to soar.

I will also say, I do not keep pets or house plants, they keep me. They would do well outdoors on their own but I don’t, for a moment, believe my life would be as rich and gratifying without them.

Always with blessings and kindess…

Assignments, I didn't like them in school and...

Attributes and Assigning Them

As humans we tend to judge people or things by how we believe them to be. It can’t be helped. This is part of our natural survival mechanism. As pagans we are riddled with this. Somehow the belief that everything must represent something else, uniformly, that it is true for everyone across the board, has been adopted. How many times have you opened up a book to tell you exactly what every color represents? How you should regard every quarter? The list goes on and on. Attributes have been assigned to EVERYTHING for us, and we tend to just take it and roll with it like it is perfectly natural, but the key to this is, while assigning attributes to things is natural for us on a very basic human level, following along what other people tell us "is right" is not.

Huh?

Let’s say you REALLY like a shirt. Like, when you see it you get this image of you rocking it, turning heads when you walk down the street, owning the nightclub, feeling amazing about yourself and like you can conquer the world. This shirt is reasonably priced and it is yours…until, your best friend says she doesn’t like it and that this other shirt would do all that and more, a different shirt you don’t love. Do you fall in line with your friend or do you follow your gut?
I hope you follow your gut.

Now, I’m going to move this over to “our world”. I laugh every time I see “Use green to attract wealth, because green is the color of money.” and “Pine represents money, because it’s green.”  Seriously? Really?
Fact. Most money in the world has no green in it.
Fact. Shells, especially those that are pale and shiny, were some of the first “currency” on the planet. Gems and crystals. Metals and minerals. Very few of these are green.
Why then should green, or something because it’s green, represent money based solely on that one single property? Why are we assigning that attribute when it doesn’t make historic, cultural or anthropological sense?
Would the Egyptians or ancients actually use a green candle and pine oil?
Hmmmm

Next, I was reading a book for kitchen witches which said that tart cherries should be used for alertness, awareness and wakening. When I looked deeper into this, the cherries were assigned this attribute because of their taste. As an herbalist this arbitrary nature made me laugh. Tart cherries contain the chemical melatonin, a sedative used especially by swing-shift workers to help them sleep naturally without side effects. Anyone using this “spell” would find themselves anything other than awake, alert and aware.

Here’s another, stop me if you know this one- you are joining in a ceremony. You’ve been handed a script to read when you call the corner. You simply don’t feel the wind candle should be yellow and the words don’t resonate with you but you do it anyway because this is what you’re told. I’m sure we’ve all found ourselves in this situation more than once. Now reflect on how effective that working was for you personally, deeply. If it doesn’t resonate within you, if you can not connect with it, it doesn’t work. Someone else assigned attributes to that area and it made you uncomfortable and discomfort does not good magic make.

I’m going to be bringing this up over and over but here is a bit of a revelation for you- we are the only religion that is supported by science.

Let me say this again: Biology, Astronomy, Physiology, Botany, Chemistry, etc…  AND  Archeology, Anthropology, Proven History all support our beliefs.

WOAH!  How huge of a revelation is that?

We have countless studies to prove several of our beliefs, practices and holidays.

In addition to that, personal experience should be taken into account. For example (and this is another topic I will get into when I hit the “B’s”) I absolutely deplore that darkness/black is associated with bad and white is all things good.  Fact of the matter is that science has shown black is ALL. It absorbs everything so it contains a little bit of each color we see. White is the absence of all, it reflects it all away. I, personally, am allergic to the sun. I am no fan of daylight at all and I find soothing comfort in the darkness. The idea of dark/black denoting evil is absolutely ridiculous to me when light hurts me so much.

I was looking through the same kitchen witch book from earlier that said to keep lavender for comfort, and while the chemical properties are proven to calm, for someone with asthma or allergies it is anything but soothing.

Just because someone in a book said something is so, does not mean it is. Just because someone said “this is ancient wisdom” does not mean it is (in all fairness, Wicca only came into being 70 years ago, not much longer than Scientologists, and has been a mottled practice since then).

It’s so easy for us to go through the neo-pagan shelves at the bookstore and online and call that research, to rely on someone else doing the work for us, but in all honesty- is that truly YOUR practice? Is that you following your path or is it simply walking the path someone else laid down for you?

This, too, is ingrained in our society. Centuries of churches telling us how to believe, laws telling us how to behave, teachers telling us how to think, bosses telling us what to do…it just goes on and on. It’s become our comfort zone collectively as a society to drink down and eat up what others have written or tell us, whether or not it strikes a positive chord deep within us. This is where people end up moving from one thing to another, lost and not knowing who they are. It’s an epidemic in all facets of our society but I see it very much in the pagan community as people cycle from solitary to coven to open circle to group to solitary from one pantheon to another. They spend soooo much money on books, and then do spells from the books to bring money to them. I stand in awe and sadness when I see people desperately looking for a home, but I am also aware I can not give it to them.

Why? Am I some cruel, heartless bitch that just stands by? Perhaps sometimes, but rather than that I am a fan of the Socratic method of learning. Socrates did not believe in giving people the information, he believed in giving people the tools of finding the information and letting them discover truths on their own. This, he said, helped people learn more and on a much deeper level. This I whole heartedly believe. And with the internet at our fingertips, it’s so much easier than ever.

Here’s my challenge to you. The next time you want to work some energy for protection, instead of opening a book and seeing what other people feel should be protective, close your eyes and feel it for yourself. What colors, scents, objects?  Do some research outside of pagan specific books. Look to history, anthropology and science. If you have pagan books, skip to the bibliography and look for the more academic ones. Make it your own.

If blue is angering, not soothing, then don’t use it to calm you.
If you want to make a tea for healing, research the science and lore of the herbs yourself.
If you want to buy that shirt, then do it and wear it with pride!

Always with kindess…blessed be.

The Velveteen Altar

The Velveteen Altar

When I thought about this project I wanted to pick things that weren’t status quo. I attempt to be organized so I wrote down “a” words for two weeks, ones I felt compelled to write about and I selected my two. This was not one of them, but it niggles and digs at me all the same.

Altars. As defined by dictionary.com
“1. an elevated place or structure, as a mound or platform, at which religious rites are performed or on which sacrifices are offered to gods, ancestors, etc.

2. Ecclesiastical  communion table.

3. ( initial capital letter) Astronomy . the constellation Ara.

4. (in a dry dock) a ledge for supporting the feet of shorings.”

Oh, now there are some tasty morsels to dig into, aren’t there? A constellation? How perfectly sublime. My favorite is the dry dock definition. Such a figurative definition for us to latch onto, should we so choose. A supportive structure for our shorings. I do so love that one.

Then of course we go to the more religious ones. A communion table. A platform for rites and sacrifices.  These smack of control. Sacrifices that we determine, and so being aren’t truly sacrifices. Rites we govern, or worse, we glean from someone else and don’t truly feel ourselves. It’s so common in the pagan community to see people reading in a staccato measure from a piece of paper while moving things around according to the instructions in the manual. This kind of altar brings to memory so many rites and passages I’ve attended that ring hollow. Impersonal tables set according to a drawing in a book. It lacks heart and depth, replaced by fear of taking a wrong step or saying the wrong word. It pains me to see this happen because it’s so unnecessary.
See…and I’m going to admit this much to the admonishment of some, but it’s okay. Really it is…
Here it goes…

I don’t like altars.
Not.
One.
Bit.

This entire thing of requiring one place to worship, a specific area that is consecrated just isn’t natural to me. This is a human need, not one of gods or nature. We create god/desses in our image because, honestly, it’s all we have to draw on. This does not apply solely to physical imagery though. We, as people, love the idea of attention. Even the meekest person will secretly feel themselves go a-tingle and perk up at the idea of someone loving them unconditionally, doing their bidding, worshipping them. So of course we put that desire from within ourselves onto the needs of the god/desses. We, humans, need consistency and some predictability. If you know that every ritual you will go to the same exact spot, it makes life easier. It used to be the sacred alters, groves and worship houses aligned with something special- from Stone Hedge to the Mayan Temples but over the years it’s become a habit to have them in our homes or tossed up from some awkward sense of pagan propriety. It’s tradition. It’s history. It’s human.

I use the words nature and natural a lot. You are going to see it over and over because that is where my heart lies, where my faith rests and where my spirit soars. I understand nature. There is a chaotic order to it that resonates within me. The heady, musty smell of earth while feeling the cool granules between my fingertips is intoxicating. From the caress of a gentle summer breeze lingering my cheek to the bitter sting of a winter wind, I am entranced by every breath. The nurturing and destructive dichotomy of fire is perplexing and mystifying, even as I am buoyed up and nourished by the depths and defiance of water. There is nothing there about a table covered in a tie-dyed, over-processed, screen-printed fabric, reeking of white sage and sprinkled in water blessed under the full moon with bits of dead plants and food cast offs left on it to nourish no one as it collects dust in the corner of a room where it is out of the way of our day to day lives. Why, then, do we assume this is natural and how it must be?

I reflected on this once, from my perspective as a kitchen witch, and I found I simply could not, in good faith, lay food and drink upon a table to dry up or rot away. We, in this house, are not in danger of starving so truly the meaning of it being a “sacrifice” is lost. It felt wrong and un-natural so I stopped doing it and I was not struck with blight, knocked on me arse by lightning or dunked in the briny depths by a put out deity. Instead I started giving those items to the world. The drinks now sate my plants. The food is now offered to the animals outside. It’s nourishing and more natural. It feels better, as if I am helping my world just a little, fortifying it a little each time. It adds an uplifting energy to all that I do.

Now, do not get me wrong. This is not to say tables do not have their place, nor do I believe that those who swear by altars are somehow “wrong”. We all need some place to put stuff. We all have to put the candles somewhere safe yet, if all of nature is sacred, then anywhere we choose to lay the tools down should automatically be sacred, without needing consecration.  We cast circle. We spin our wards and take our protective measures when we set to worship. Safety is then, not an issue. I’m a big fan of decorating tables for holidays, of finding a piece of ground and calling quarters from there, of speaking from the heart, of moving by gut, by instinct, by nature- making sure that those decorations used can either be reused or be somehow recycled or reclaimed by nature.

In the same vein are the items on the altar.  Isn’t an object used every day, loved and cherished more sacred than a chalice set aside for use only on high holidays, relegated to a shelf/table/mantle to collect dust the rest of the year? This reminds me of the Velveteen Rabbit, the children’s story about the stuffed rabbit who was so loved by a child that it’s button eye was popping off and it’s soft, lustrous fabric had become dull and threadbare. The child sadly became ill with “fever” which means all the belongings in the nursery were to be burned, including the rabbit. Instead, when the rabbit was taken outside to be burned it was magically turned into a real bunny- because anything so loved and so cherished did, indeed become real to the child. Therefore, instead of a pretty altar shouldn’t we use that athame and chalice everyday? Allow it to nourish us, to become worn from our hands, imbued with our energy and grow from the power of use and love? Those candles take on more meaning if they are not tucked into a beautifully decorated corner but cherished and used to warm our nights and light our lives.
Since we don’t know when the veil will claim us, perhaps things shouldn’t be saved for those “special occasions” as much as enjoyed right now- from that wine that would be the perfect drink at Midsummer to the nightie that would be particularly tempting on May Day. There will always be more “perfect wines” and another Midsummer but not another right now.

The more complex we make things, the more controlled they are, the less natural they become and the further from the true spirit of paganism it is, at least for me.

Be blessed and be well.

Big A, little a, What begins with A?

Anathema. It’s a beautiful word, isn’t it? It rolls off the tongue and feels so good in the mouth…Annnnatheeeemaaa. Mmmmmmmmm.  Say it with me…Anathema. That’s good isn’t it? It has this breathy, sexy quality. So sumptuous and sensual but then there is the definition.

According to dictionary.com Anathema is “a person or thing detested or loathed.”  Woah! Such a dark meaning for such a lovely word, but isn’t that so true for so much in the world? In nature beautiful things are often poisonous. Some of the most repulsive are decadent (Ugli fruit anyone?).  However, as pagans we seem to encounter this all too often. The second definition offered for anathema is “a person or thing accursed or consigned to damnation or destruction.” Sigh

That’s the crux of it, isn’t it? How often do we hear that those who aren’t of a majority religion are damned? Our faith is feared though rarely questioned in a thoughtful conversation, and thus we become the damned. I can not think of a pagan that I personally know who has not encountered this, from strangers who see a piece of our jewelry and view it as an invitation to blow their top at us to family members who want nothing more than to save us, everyone seems to have an opinion on the safety of our eternal souls. All too often we are called out to defend ourselves, our faith, to those who prefer to hear their own denouncements over our explanations. It can be exhausting work being a pagan, just trying to either keep it secret or get it accepted.

Ohhhh…that last word. Another “A” word. Acceptance. It goes hand in hand with anathema really.

I spent years angry…no. That’s an understatement. I spent years IRATE at being condemned on the supposition that somehow I am a lesser person for following a natural path. Talking to other pagans only served to anger me further. To hear tales of our parenting, our intelligence, our goodness, the very validity of our existence being called into question scorched my broomstick. Truth be told, it still does. Thinking about it now I can feel the flush of blood hot beneath my skin and the pulsing in my ears starting to drown out the Celtic music playing in the background. deep breath

M’kay. I feel better now.

Like many, I figured if I’m educated and well thought out then I would be heard. I learned as much as I could about every form of paganism, working my way through the “Llewelyns” and beyond. This resulted in conflicts now becoming yelling matches. They would preach at me, I would raise my voice to be heard and it would escalate from there. Ahhh…the folly of youth. One of my favorite quotes is “It’s hard to hear a whisper when hate is shouting in your ear.”- Will Ryker from Star Trek:TNG  When two people are yelling all it creates is a stress migraine and hard feelings. Lesson learned.

The next step, in my mind, was to educate myself on the religions of my opponents (mostly my family, btw). I learned the Old Testament and The King James Version. I found I really love the fables in the pages and encourage anyone to read them, but reading them only served to fill me with more conviction in my own beliefs. Then I turned my sights on the Qur’an and the Torah. Once more I found the stories intriguing, the lessons enlightening and my belief in my faith more steadfast than ever. I was armed to the teeth with contradictions and hypocrisies. This war was going to be won by me.

 
All of that studying and arming only lead to more fighting. Somewhere in my ignorant mind I thought if I could use religious reason, THEIR religion, against them that they would understand why I am pagan better. They would see the error in their own ways. In all of my plotting and planning I overlooked something quite profound…it’s faith. Faith does not need facts as much as I do. Faith does not need to make sense to be believed and so those who blindly follow their faith unquestioningly will only be confused when they are called into question. When you take an already defensive animal and you back it into a corner, it does not become meek but rather seems to sprout an extra row of razor sharp teeth and daggers from its palms. That animal changes form and becomes something so beastly and dastardly there is no recognizing it and absolutely no fighting it. I have the war wounds to prove it, btw.

This was the time I went into hiding, not because these beasts were hunting me, which it did feel like as I swear “Operation Convert Lynnie” was in full swing at one point, but because my head was now bursting with all this religious information and I couldn’t win. Not with the majority religions and not with my own. I knew everything from Gardner to Cunningham, the Farrars to Telesco and it all clashed horribly. In the eyes of others I was the “go-to” knowledgeable one when information was needed but what good is the education without the wisdom to apply it? Feeling lower than low I retreated.

The Universe knew that was what I needed. I recoiled from religious conversation and attempted conversions. I pulled away from the pagan community and I did my own thing. My. Own. Thing.

This was a turning point. I accepted. Through the simple act of living I sifted through all the “you’re supposed to do this and this”, through the “rules” and found what felt good, what feels natural.
Woah.

That was a realization. The glorious history of the pagan faith is nature. Not just nature that happens outside our windows. Not nature in a recycling-green energy-not wearing make-up-crunchy granola kinda way. Nature is in the core of who we are; listening to our inner voices, our gut instincts, not thinking and just being, looking to the universe and tapping into that. When I was being religious I was not being natural. When I was over thinking and being studious, my mind governed over everything and I forgot to just live. I made war and called it defense, a very human thing to do. When I stopped and came back to what I personally believe in- the power of nature and my place in it- I realized that I missed the point all along.

To accept.

To accept who I am, what I believe and what the Universe throws at me. To accept the continuing learning process that is life. To accept that others do not believe the same, and never will, and that they don’t need to. To accept that fighting them is really a waste of energy, of time, of personal peace- all of which are far to precious to toss away in some search of intellectual self-satisfaction.

When I found that acceptance I no longer felt the need to wear pentacle clothing and flash my faith around.  I realized that by being loud and proud I was inviting that anathema into my life and I didn’t need to do either. The desire to defend myself and my faith melted away, being simply content to smile and nod or shrug and walk away when someone feels the need to “save my soul”. In fact my father-in-law, whom I love dearly, recently gave me a gift, a book meant to convince people to convert to Christianity. My husband pointed out how insulting the gift is, which yes it is, but I prefer to think of it as my father-in-law caring enough about me to try to save me…and I feel badly that he can’t see that I’m safe. When a conversation begins that would once have resulted in a verbal sparring match, I instead thank them for their interest in my well being and assure them I am just fine as I am. I’ve learned to accept it all.

Because, truly, I am just fine with who I am and on the path that I’m on.

Just as I hope you all are.

Be blessed and be well.