tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35750836615510196162024-02-06T19:53:39.656-08:00Beasts of the BrainThe mindful meanderings of a creative person tracking life, the creative process, parenthood and gardening.Lynniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05861370866300226666noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3575083661551019616.post-17739288299193725222012-10-24T18:31:00.001-07:002012-10-24T18:31:42.768-07:00New Year- New projects- different blogFor those that know who I am, I follow a different path. <br /><br />Samhain, Hallowe'en, is the Celtic New Year. A time for beginnings, insights and beginnings/endings. <br />My birthday is also in October. Many major events in my life have happened in October. For this reason, I don't do spring cleaning, I do autumnal cleanings. I purge my home, my brain, etc and I start my projects.<br /><br />I have one that I call Life By Numbers, where there are things I do everyday (quotes), week (photos and recipes), month and this time around I'm adding quarters, my 101 in 1001 list and my latest undertaking...30 Days. <br /><br />Inspired by Morgan Spurlock and science, I'm going to be taking on new things for 30 days at a time, including things like *gasp* going to church and bible study- because frankly, I don't get it. I'm not looking to convert, I'm looking to understand. This is one of many undertakings I plan but in the sake of organization, I will be keeping those in a blog title Life By Numbers.<br /><br />You can find my introductory 30 Days post there and I would love if you would join me on this journey and share your thoughts, opinions, what would you do, etc?<br /><br />Join me and see what the lucky numbers are! http://365-52-12.blogspot.com/<br />
<br />Lynniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05861370866300226666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3575083661551019616.post-14682129483093699862012-10-02T18:33:00.001-07:002012-10-02T18:43:30.655-07:00Hawk and Crow collideI sat on my front steps the other day. The sun danced through the
tittering leaves on the maple tree that takes up most of our front yard
and the cool breeze tickled my skin. A hint of autumn scented the air.
The neighborhood was peaceful, sleepy almost, though it was late
afternoon.<br /><br />Squirrels skittered about, leaping and bounding
through the tall grass of our yard and the weeds that line the neighbors
house. From somewhere behind me I heard an uncommon sound split the
calm, the distinct screeching of a raptor which was quickly answered by
the caw of a crow. The small animals scurried up trees and under bushes
as the haunting sounds echoed between the houses.<br /><br />Then, from the
corner of my eye I caught the motion- a crow swooped from the side of my
home, a hawk right on its tail-feathers. Awed, I watched as the hawk
descended, talons outstretched to scratch along the back of the crow.
Both animals released their cries and every critter in the neighborhood
coward from the aerial battle.<br /><br />They dove behind my neighbors house and though I tried to follow them, they moved so quickly that I lost them amongst the trees.<br /><br />I
pondered the entire occurrence, which was like nothing I had ever seen
before. Formidable birds rarely seen together locked in a race, a
battle, for what? Some delightful morsel? It's too late in the year for
the protection of young and nests. What could possibly have triggered
this?<br /><br />For some reason the book The Native American Medicine Wheel
popped into my head. I read it ages ago and loaned it to someone, never
to see it again. In the days since the battle I've been thinking about
this more and more. A friend who is very much into lore, and another who
holds to superstitions and omens, believe this was something meant
specifically for me to witness. They believe it was not merely a random
act of nature that I was blessed to watch but a message designed
specifically for me.<br />Their belief became even more amplified once I told them that I was born into the Medicine Wheel month/moon of the Crow.<br /><br />Using my astute powers of Google-fu, I have been able to locate information on the Medicine Wheel Animals.<br /><br />First, what I already knew:<br /><br />The Crow-<br />The
crow is intelligent, creative, an adapter (shifter)/change, balance,
just and a diplomat. A carrier of messages and spiritual energy.<br />No matter what mythology, a Crow is a powerful symbol of change, and usually of (good) luck.<br /><br />Here is what I didn't know,<br /><br />The Hawk is on the exact opposite side of the wheel from the Crow, representing healing, vision and perspective, guardianship.<br />Hawk
helps you see things from a new perspective, to take a break when
you're too close to an issue and step back long enough to gain a
different perspective.<br />"If you seek mental clarity on an emotional
problem that you can't see your way around, the hawk will help you to
zero in on the crux of the issue and work through it."~~Stefanie Weiss, <i>Spirit Animals: Unlocking the Secrets of Our Animal Companions</i><br /><br />So
I watched the symbol for perspective and healing rake on the back of
change, forcing it to move forward, flying harder...toward something or
just in an escape?<br /><br />Looking it up did nothing to help clarify
things in my life, symbolically speaking, but it's given me much to
ponder and was an incredible sight to behold.Lynniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05861370866300226666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3575083661551019616.post-62271035349849677762012-09-30T19:51:00.001-07:002012-09-30T19:51:59.657-07:00Turning of the Wheel<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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October 1st is tomorrow. Cool whether has settled in and with it the sensation of breathing again. I know. I know. <br />
People love summer. All winter people will by whinging and whining over bringing the summer back, and some are already lamenting the death of the world but I just don't feel that way. <br />
<br />
Winter isn't death, just slumber. The world is locked in a crystalline snow globe but beneath the frost the heartbeat is there. The winds may blow just to cover the dreaming breath of the world. Neighbors who talk, wave and rush past to seek the warmth of their home. Outside of the holidays, the winter drives everything inward, not to hide, just to rest.<br />
<br />
When Spring comes around we use that rest for a less than calm season. Spring, an appropriate name for the riot of action as plants race to burst from their slumber, fresh blooms struggle against the inconsistent weather and people enter the rush along with it. Lawns are manicured, landscaping is meticulously planted, gardens are planned. Suddenly the friendly ways of neighbors become a competition of whose lawn decor looks better, cleaner, nicer. <br />
<br />
This gives way to the monotone greens of summer. The heat tends render everyone into a laze. Parties are relegated to sitting around, dipping a toe in the water or hiding in air conditioning. Worry sets in, will there be too much rain to sustain the crops? Perhaps too much and it will a rained out barbeque. Beer drinking becomes a sport of its own and nature creeps along, mostly unnoticed.<br />
<br />
And then...<br />
<br />
And then there's a spark. A barely noticeable hint of yellow atop a tree, a beacon for the rest to follow. Slowly the other colors emerge; oranges glowing in the sunlight, reds and even burgundies overwhelm the hillsides. Cooler temperatures coax fruits and vegetables to the harvest table. Animals bustle to ready themselves for winter, prime targets for hunters eyes. Suddenly the world lives again. Everything with its distinct personality. The earth crunches and sends its musk to intoxicate us. Smoke spirals up chimneys to hang on every breeze. Fires crackle and brighten dark corners of the night, ushering people from their homes to laugh, dance and live. <br />
And that's the power of autumn to me, the time when everything truly comes to life. Communities come together over the joy of cider and pumpkins. People lose themselves in corn mazes. Families come together to choose the perfect elements for their feasts. We are nourished, enriched. Alive. <br />
<br />
Autumn is when life happens; fully, vibrantly and beautifully.<br />
<br />
And I stood in the rain today and welcomed it.<br />
<br />Lynniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05861370866300226666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3575083661551019616.post-81646052155064323582012-06-12T15:19:00.000-07:002012-06-12T17:07:51.369-07:00In Which I'm Not Complaining- Artful Body*wanders in and starts dusting*<br />
Yeah. I know. It's been awhile. Sorry about that<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
In,
oh I dunno, 2004 or -5 maybe I started Extreme Hareem to do henna.
That's it. I thought it would be good. I had recovered from my accident,
done some traveling, was reevaluating my performance career and had
been doing henna off and on for a decade at that point. I wasn't sure
how important performing was to me anymore and the opportunity to do
henna fell into my lap. I took it and started to do some street fests
and mostly pirate and ren shows around the northeast. I did well enough
that when Ted moved in, I put him to work. We had fun. It was extra
money. It was silly.<br />
<br />
<br />
One event their face painters backed out
and we were asked to take up the slack. Huh. I knew nothing about color
theory or face paint but what the hell? People liked what we did and
even then I knew enough to get face paints from the local shop that
supplies theater companies, looking back I can only say we were okay.
Not great. Not bad. Henna was still our primary art. We got into bigger
fests and I needed to learn what I was doing. I was just winging it
really. Like I said, extra money. No real profit margin. Mehron liquid
paints (not good for fp, for those who don't know) but they were safe.
It worked and we just kinda sailed along in an eddy.<br />
<br />
But I was
also getting burned out. I was working a 40 hour a week job, trying to
figure all this body art stuff out and that's when Ted left. I decided
to take the summer off except for some major events that I didn't want
to lose (and am so glad I did, it rained most of that summer and I would
have lost money). That was also when I realized that Extreme Hareem was
meant for henna and that incorporating face paint nulled the name. It
was confusing. I debated and deliberated and turned it into Artful Body
but only at that handful of places, kind of testing waters. That was
2009.<br />
<br />
The following year we decided to do a soft relaunch as
Artful Body. I developed a business plan and decided to put it into
action. Mark and I worked almost every weekend at small festivals. It
was lovely to be there with him but we decided we needed help. I brought
in two people to help out on two late season weekends, and it worked
amazingly. A little light went on in my head that if I could pull it
off, I could set up booths for these girls, train them in my style of
the art and send them out.<br />
<br />
In 2011, with the help of a money
investment from a friend, I was able to purchase additional supplies and
do some advanced training, which I brought back to my crew (or paint
family, as we've come to call it). This meant I could send out people
and increase our festival coverage of the area. It was a good plan. A
solid plan. It worked to the point where Mark and I were still going out
and I had to bring in another artist.<br />
This process has kept
working for me. Of course there is more to it than that but,
essentially, that's how I've done this...in 2 years. Each year I add a
little more. Tweak things a little bit but the core of what we do is
always advancing the training and having the right personalities of the
people I am so blessed to bring in.<br />
<br />
This year one of our
stellar artists has found herself unable to come out and work (she moved
and hoped she'd be able to make it out). We miss her terribly. With the unexpected expansion over winter- we picked up entertainment
companies that kept us going as well as some birthday parties- we've
been able to not lose momentum over winter but to keep it
going. Normally our season starts with 1 or 2 small events in May, 1 or 2
in June. July will be packed. August is meh. Sept is busy. Last year we
had a nice dose of private parties and some lovely corporate events.<br />
<br />
This
year fest season started in May, after a steady winter of sporting
events, and have had stuff every single weekend since. We're getting
festivals calling us and asking us to be there, or walking up to the
booth and handing us an application right there. We've already tripled
the corporate/ent company bookings from last year and have picked up (no
joke) 3 more entertainment companies. Private parties? We just started
our season and have already doubled what we did last year.<br />
<br />
And
I am short on people. Two new artists are being trained and one of our
hawkers is also being trained as an artist. I need one, if not two more
hawkers desperately (as one of my awesome ones from last year is working
full time and going to school).<br />
<br />
We are turning down work. We
have conventions calling and asking us to be there. Haunted houses and
such are already contacting us for the fall.<br />
<br />
Originally the
plan was to send out crews and stay home and manage so that I can fully
launch my other businesses. However, it's not working that way. I'm
going out every weekend, as is my crew, and we are still turning work
away at this point -which I HATE doing. I feel like a dingy against a
leviathon, paddling like crazy to keep from being swallowed whole.<br />
<br />
It's
scary too. The crew no longer has this as their "extra money". This is
paying the rent for some of them. It's food money. Bill money. It became
serious when that happened.<br />
<br />
One of them said to me "It's such
fun, such a release for me, that I don't even pay attention to how much
I make. It's nice but the money isn't the important part." It's
wonderful but I bet if I stopped paying, they'd mosey along, not that I
ever would but let's face it, this is work too. Hard work. Kids wiggling, sneezing on us and chatting away;
parents hovering, art creation on the spot- even when the muses aren't
tapping us on the shoulder. Hours in the sun, humidity, in a room with a
bunch of happy, bouncing, squealing teenage girls. It's exhausting work that
should be compensated even though it is fun.<br />
<br />
I spend hours
every day doing paperwork, bookings, marketing, making sure they stay in
money because I am terrified of losing my crew. They are absolutely
amazing, all of them. Not perfect but amazing.<br />
<br />
And every now and then I feel overwhelmed.
I have to take a step back and breathe. I have to look at all of this
and ask myself if I still love doing it, and every time the answer is
yes. I love seeing the smiles, the surprise, the joy when the "canvas"
sees their art. I love hearing the stories from the crew when we all
come together and I see them laughing over some of it, or regaling over
the challenges of painting a killer bunny on a kid, or dealing with a
parent who wanted to glitter up his 7 week old. It's fun.<br />
<br />
I'm
not sure any of them know how much I put into this. Every day looking
for something more for them to do, to try, to keep us not only in events
but also one step ahead and better than the "competition". We need to stay challenged and interested in the art side too. We have to
always leave the others in the dust in order to get these bookings. It's
a lot of pressure for me to learn these things and then translate them
to the crew. Always something more. Always growing. Always going
forward. Always working. I literally wake up forming emails in my head.<br />
<br />
With the larger number of people I also find that I am human services
dealing with scheduling, conflicts, personal conflicts, complaints, pay
sheets, tracking, etc. I do so much more paperwork than art these days. I have no HR training. I'm making this up as I go and hoping that I do a good job at it.<br /><br />
Some days I'm not sure which motivates me more- the desire to do art or the desire to keep my crew in business. I fear failing them more than myself, which is a huge switch from how it used to be with me. The days of "Well, it's a hobby." are long over.<br /><br />
But
I've also learned a lot about me in this process. About what I enjoy
and the lengths I will go to. For me this isn't a business about art and
money. I mean sure it is, sure. It can't exist without them but this is a business
of people. Of the happiness of those hiring us, the smiles on the kids,
the relief of the parents, the laughter of the adults who indulge their
inner child and get a glitter tattoo, the "henna hugs" when someone
loves the piece so much they throw and arm out to the side and hug me.
It's about my crew, my artists being able to do art that they love, that
they believe in, to benefit from those smiles and laughter and hugs
too. It's about my hawkers absolutely beaming when they see the joy, excitement and giggles they create for passersby whether they get decorated or not. It's about the stories of
connections with other vendors, a community of gypsy-spirited souls in
its own right. <br />
<br />
In the end, as I became overwhelmed today by all this
is become, as I look to the future and wonder what beast this will be
next year or in 3 years, I realized it's the people that keep it going
for me- because that's who this is all about.<br />
Not me.<br />
Them.<br />
And I really do adore them.<br />
<br />
At
the same time, I miss spending nights writing until the wee hours. I
miss the stories and the characters flowing from my fingertips. <br />
I
miss gardening. I grew the seedlings and they are holding on for dear
life, because I think they know I will get them in the ground- soon, I
hope. <br />
I miss curling up with tea and reading while watching a movie
and sharing that time with Mark and Noah. I miss the ability to just
take off and go for a hike or to the beach with my family because Mark
works weekdays.<br />
<br />
This past weekend Mark and I saw each other on
Thursday night. He saw the back of my head on Fri morning as he left
for work. I was gone to a gig by the time he got home. I saw the back of
his head (as he was in bed sleeping) when I returned. When I woke, he
was gone to a gig. The entire weekend went like that until Sunday
afternoon. I have an amazing husband to handle that, not only handle
that, but he worked for me at a booth. That blows my mind. He enjoys it.
He wouldn't do it if he didn't but still...I am so freakin' lucky to
have his support. He's amazing, and I missed him over those days.<br />
<br />
I
need to get back into the garden, into writing and schedule more time
with the family as a whole- not just in bits and pieces. Those are not
sacrifices I was prepared to make for Artful Body.<br />
<br />
Still, it's
good. It's still growing. I suppose it's a lot like gardening really. I
didn't just start it and have it grow. I've nurtured it, fed it,
snipped and tucked and anchored it. It's not the wildling I like to
think it is because I know if I stopped advertising, handing out cards,
pushing as hard as I do it would slowly suffocate. <br />
I suppose that in the end, as the leviathon swallows me up, I only have myself to blame. But really, I'm not complaining. I'm marveling. Everyday I marvel. <br />
And that is never a bad thing.<br />
<br />Lynniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05861370866300226666noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3575083661551019616.post-77541818416926941382012-01-30T11:09:00.000-08:002012-01-30T13:10:33.301-08:00Bonsaaaaiiiiiii!!!!<br />
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BONSAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIII<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
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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.<br />
<br />
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.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitklMfSOEz_J19XeBqmU7gTu1bioINrnAla4Q-aYLxNkL8aL0oXaTR5QGqkEcYUGV_p3DFLSgzddY3CRSsZD-NbkymuOC8KMdmmU4tPY-7pBV-2f1Tuq7Pv1LwdWlVezSMYPlA6oPAguY/s1600/11-3-10+Bonsai.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitklMfSOEz_J19XeBqmU7gTu1bioINrnAla4Q-aYLxNkL8aL0oXaTR5QGqkEcYUGV_p3DFLSgzddY3CRSsZD-NbkymuOC8KMdmmU4tPY-7pBV-2f1Tuq7Pv1LwdWlVezSMYPlA6oPAguY/s320/11-3-10+Bonsai.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first Bonsai, a Chinese Elm</td></tr>
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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.<br />
<br />
Whodda thunk, right? <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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).<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Kindness and peace to you.</div>
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<br /></div>Lynniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05861370866300226666noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3575083661551019616.post-4157821055942050502012-01-28T15:31:00.000-08:002012-01-29T09:11:33.092-08:00As The Teeter Totters<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hold everything in balance. Without it, chaos and
destruction prevail.”- Mercedes Lackey <br />
<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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.</div>
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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.</div>
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<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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?<br />
<br />
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. </div>
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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). <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
When I started to apply the same questions to my faith, things became more
clear and in balance.<br />
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.</div>
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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.<br />
<br />
Always with blessings and kindess.</div>
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<br /></div>Lynniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05861370866300226666noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3575083661551019616.post-1013750397429527792012-01-25T08:52:00.000-08:002012-01-25T08:52:27.282-08:00The Marriage of Akasha and Animism<br />
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Akasha meets Animism<br />
They assess each other. <br />
Akasha feels a kinship with Animism.<br />
Animism soars with Akasha.<br />
It’s the perfect marriage really. <br />
<br />
Confused yet? <br />
Wouldn’t blame you if you are.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br /></div>
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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.<br />
<br />
What in the bloody blue blazes does this have to do with Akasha and
Animism? For me, absolutely everything.<br />
<br /></div>
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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).<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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?<br />
<br />
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.</div>
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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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
Always with blessings and kindess…</span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUm398gxlog6yWOYqibfHSEjsJYnIF3mJzOCY2i0NsYj_QqCOdrrnPO9Xa7LUV_eu3LW8Svg01xtuWoeygWetoodrEbM35ISPc83PzzyJVbHo9PUpsQ2Cx9RU2BP5TLUkCREnWzv5F3Z8/s1600/pagan+blog+project.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUm398gxlog6yWOYqibfHSEjsJYnIF3mJzOCY2i0NsYj_QqCOdrrnPO9Xa7LUV_eu3LW8Svg01xtuWoeygWetoodrEbM35ISPc83PzzyJVbHo9PUpsQ2Cx9RU2BP5TLUkCREnWzv5F3Z8/s1600/pagan+blog+project.png" /></a></div>Lynniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05861370866300226666noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3575083661551019616.post-85727512717912443392012-01-24T12:30:00.001-08:002012-01-24T16:58:30.472-08:00Assignments, I didn't like them in school and...<br />
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Attributes and Assigning Them<br />
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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. <br />
<br />
Huh? <br />
<br />
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?<br />
I hope you follow your gut.<br />
<br />
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?<br />
Fact. Most money in the world has no green in it. <br />
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. <br />
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? <br />
Would the Egyptians or ancients actually use a green candle and pine oil?<br />
Hmmmm<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
Let me say this again: Biology, Astronomy, Physiology, Botany, Chemistry,
etc… AND
Archeology, Anthropology, Proven History all support our beliefs.<br />
<br />
WOAH! How huge of a revelation is that?<br />
<br />
We have countless studies to prove several of our beliefs, practices and
holidays.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br /></div>
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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). <br />
<br />
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?<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br /></div>
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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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
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If blue is angering, not soothing, then don’t use it to calm
you.<br />
If you want to make a tea for healing, research the science and lore of the
herbs yourself.<br />
If you want to buy that shirt, then do it and wear it with pride!</div>
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Always with kindess…blessed be.</div>
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<br /></div>Lynniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05861370866300226666noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3575083661551019616.post-66007706850141037792012-01-06T14:39:00.001-08:002012-01-06T17:17:11.646-08:00The Velveteen Altar<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The Velveteen Altar<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
Altars. As defined by dictionary.com <br />
“1. an elevated place or structure, as a mound or <span style="color: #333333;">platform,</span> at which religious rites are performed or on which <span style="color: #333333;">sacrifices</span> are offered to gods, ancestors, etc. </div>
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2. Ecclesiastical communion table.</div>
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3. ( initial capital letter) Astronomy . the <span style="color: #333333;">constellation</span> <span style="color: #333333;">Ara.</span> </div>
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4. (in a dry dock) a ledge for supporting the feet of <span style="color: #333333;">shorings.</span>”<br />
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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. <br />
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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 <b>we</b> determine, and so being aren’t truly sacrifices. Rites <b>we</b> 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. <br />
See…and I’m going to admit this much to the admonishment of some, but it’s okay. Really it is…<br />
Here it goes…</div>
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I don’t like altars. <br />
Not. <br />
One. <br />
Bit. <br />
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This entire thing of requiring one place to worship, a specific area that is consecrated just isn’t <i>natural</i> 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. <br />
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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?<br />
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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.</div>
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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.<br />
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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.<br />
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Be blessed and be well. <br />
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<br /></div>Lynniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05861370866300226666noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3575083661551019616.post-20340635613701663892012-01-06T11:55:00.000-08:002012-01-06T11:55:38.715-08:00Big A, little a, What begins with A?<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">Anathema. It’s a beautiful word, isn’t it? It rolls off the tongue and feels so good in the mouth…Annnnatheeeemaaa. Mmmmmmmmm.<span> </span>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. <br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">According to dictionary.com Anathema is “a person or thing detested or loathed.” <span> </span>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?).<span> </span>However, as pagans we seem to encounter this all too often. The second definition offered for anathema is “<span style="color: #333333;">a</span> <span style="color: #333333;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="cursor: default;">person</span></span> <span style="color: #333333;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="cursor: default;">or</span></span> <span style="color: #333333;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="cursor: default;">thing</span></span> <span style="color: #333333;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="cursor: default;">accursed</span></span> <span style="color: #333333;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="cursor: default;">or</span></span> <span style="color: #333333;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="cursor: default;">consigned</span></span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">to</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">damnation</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">or</span> destruction.” <i>Sigh</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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. <br />
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Ohhhh…that last word. Another “A” word. Acceptance. It goes hand in hand with anathema really. <br />
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I spent <i>years</i> angry…no. That’s an understatement. I spent years <i>IRATE</i> 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. <b>deep breath</b><br />
<br />
M’kay. I feel better now.<br />
<br />
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<span> </span>When two people are yelling all it creates is a stress migraine and hard feelings. Lesson learned.<br />
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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.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span><br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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 <b>natural</b>. <br />
Woah. </div><div class="MsoNormal">That was a realization. The glorious history of the pagan faith is <i>nature</i>. 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.<br />
<br />
To accept.<br />
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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.<br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">When I found that acceptance I no longer felt the need to wear pentacle clothing and flash my faith around. <span> </span>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. <br />
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Because, truly, I am just fine with who I am and on the path that I’m on. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Just as I hope you all are.<br />
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Be blessed and be well.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div>Lynniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05861370866300226666noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3575083661551019616.post-26284363136700623242011-10-12T11:20:00.001-07:002012-01-06T08:47:27.161-08:00Dear America<div class="MsoNormal">Dear America,</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My name is Lynne. I am married to a wonderful man. We own a home, two cars and both work…hard. We love our jobs and we’re good at them but we fight for every dime we make, and then we watch much of it go towards taxes- federal, state, school, property, etc. We hemorrhage money for taxes.<br />
<br />
We have a son. He’s what you’d call a “good ol’ boy”- involved in sports, very social and fun-loving. He’s 16. As parents we’ve been working his whole life to instill in him the value of hard work and a dollar. At home I’ve tried to teach him about credit, about prioritizing his cash flow, about product research to get the most quality value for his money. We’re running into a problem with this though. Work for teenagers is hard to come by, just as it is for everyone, and his needs are getting more and more expensive. Games and game consoles, phones and cars are far more expensive than the Matchbox and Playskool versions of days gone by. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I introduced myself but, honestly, I didn’t need to because you know me. I am your neighbor, the small business owner up the street competing with Wal-Mart, your child’s teacher, your spouse. I am you. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’ve been so poor that I've collected food stamps and state aid. I am not proud of it but I worked and paid into that system in case I needed it, just like everyone else. When I needed it, I used it. I’m telling all of you who claim it’s living in luxury, it is not even enough to live on. I washed clothes in a bathtub and rolled pennies in cut-up envelopes in order to buy diapers. I lived in day to day terror not knowing if I could pay my electric bill in the dead of a Great Lakes winter or if I could stand eating the WIC afforded peanut butter for one more day. The only people who think that is a comfortable existence are ones who have never been in it. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
I know scoff at me all you want but at the time I was a single mom and the father left me with nothing. Not a dollar, not a dime. My point is that not everyone on state aid is a drunken, drugged up, lazy, abuse-the-system kind of person and frankly, it’s arrogant and offensive when such statements are made. We, the single moms on the program, were treated poorly by the over-stretched and underpaid social service workers, a humiliation you will most likely never know, but we worked hard and got off the program. Yet, in this climate people are having a harder time doing so and yet here are Americans kicking fellow Americans when we, as a nation, are down. No one went after the deadbeat father on my behalf, and instead chose to vilify me. I am not ashamed to admit that it confuses me.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When I say I am you, I mean it. Poor or middle-class, I’ve been there, scraping and scrapping along with you.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
So here we are now, a middle class family treading water and trying to teach our child to grow up to be a good American…but then who are the role models? Politicians and celebrities? It turns my stomach.<br />
<br />
I am neither a Democrat nor a Republican. I will not follow a party because they can give impassioned speeches that might appeal to one topic I am concerned about. One. Out of so many. Instead I choose to read, to educate myself and listen to all sides before choosing. Sadly, I can no longer choose because neither side is making sense.<br />
<br />
We voted for a bipartisan government, but we haven’t been given that. We have asked, in no uncertain terms, for help EVERYWHERE- on the internet, in the media, on the streets and lawns of our government and financial institutions but instead of turning an interested ear we, the constituents who voted for you, are being attacked by you, our own government.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Let me say that a different way… </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">To the government:<br />
<br />
We voted you in because you promised to listen to us and now you are turning against us. Whether or not you see it that way, we do.<br />
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We need large corporations and the wealthy to bear some of the tax burden that has been placed on everyone else in the country. Our backs our breaking from the weight.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We need large corporations to be held accountable for their inept budgeting and their part in the destruction of the American work force. Bail-outs are simply positive reinforcement of bad behavior. Instead, hold CEO’s accountable for their “bonuses” when they have laid off thousands. Offer incentives to those who don’t outsource, who create jobs and products here in the US and for those who go a period of time without laying off. Corporations need to understand, and care, that they are part of this problem. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It’s been 10 years. We need to not be spending billions upon billions of dollars overseas in conflicts and refocus those man hours and funds back here at home. Yes, what’s going on in other countries is a tragedy, so is the path we’re on. Have you taken a walk in any major US city poor neighborhood lately? I imagine not. Perhaps you should. They look like war zones.You are sacrificing our loved ones, spending our money and for what? It’s time to get out. Starving junkyard dogs are not effective guards and that is what we have become. Let another NATO pup take our place. We’ve done our duty.<br />
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<b>AFFORDABLE</b> health insurance needs to be available for everyone. Again, I will reiterate this- not having health insurance affordably available damages the well being of our entire nation. Fining people without jobs, who are barely scraping by, is adding to the financial burden not helping to alleviate it. Having insurance is simply not enough, GOOD insurance is the key. What good is having health insurance with a $500 deductible when our annual visits will never reach that $500? Paying for insurance at that point is simply a waste of my hard earned dollar and putting it into the pocket of someone else when I could use it to feed my child.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We see you, when you are supposed to be focused on solving problems, back on campaign trails, sinking money into promoting yourself talking about problems you’ve made no attempts to solve. It’s angering. It’s demoralizing. It’s Un-American. YOU, our government, are Un-American.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This country was founded on the basis that all men are created equal and that all dreams are possible, yet here you, the government, are telling us that we are not equal to you, that you do not need to listen, that we are somehow lesser than you which is why we need you to make decisions for us. That is untrue and Un-American. We don’t need you to make decisions for us, we need you represent the choices we want. There is a HUGE difference. We've made our selections, we’ve said what we NEED and we want you to be our one voice to make sure it gets done. You have failed us, government, and you have done so in a manner as explosive as the Hindenburg but with the flippancy of Blanche DuBois.<br />
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Really, it’s simple. If we don’t have jobs then we can’t spend and the economy continues to tank.</div><div class="MsoNormal">It’s a cliché but it holds true- if you are not part of the solution, you are part of the problem and I am saying, you are the problem.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I get it. You want us to pay taxes so that we can pay your paychecks and let the money trickle down from there. That is what Reagan set in motion. However, it doesn’t work. If I go to work and I don’t listen to my boss, then I don’t get paid and chances are, I’m out of a job all together.<br />
I need someone, anyone, to justify to me why we, your constituents, The American Public, YOUR BOSSES, should continue to pay your astronomical salaries including all of the benefits you deny the people you claim to represent. <br />
<br />
We are suffering and all you care to hear is the sound of your own voices screeching like alley cats fighting over a mouse that got away. This is not a machismo, bravado filled competition for power that you are in. This is a tug-of-war and millions upon millions of lives, ours and our children’s, are the rope you are merrily tugging on.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m sick of it. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m tired of you hiding behind media and men with AK47’s when all we have are grass roots and pitchforks. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m tired of the tap dances and the chest pounding. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m tired of you lying outright and treating us as if we are mindless followers incapable of researching the truth for ourselves. I should think with the internet being as popular as it is you would fully understand that everything you say will be checked against real statistics and facts, and then you will be called out from there. We are no longer the uninformed and the meek of days gone by, relying on your words to lead us. We are fact checkers and internet savvy. The world is at our fingertips and still you lie as if we will never figure it out. That kind of underestimating is insulting at best, inciting and destructive at worst.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m tired of being accused of being “lazy” and “ignorant” (your words, not mine) when I don’t agree with your political stances.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m tired of hearing that being poor is noble. If it’s so noble then I encourage you to try your hand at it, not for a week or a month but for as long as it takes to get this country back on its feet and to earn your pay.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m tired of the playground politics, grandstanding and media hogging. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It was once said that men defending their homes with pitchforks and conviction will always win against the most polished soldiers. The Revolutionary War is a very good example of this. Many countries, in fact, have felt this over the years. You are giving us no choice. Our battle cry isn’t for freedom, it’s to save this country you want us to be so proud of, and to save ourselves within it.<br />
<br />
Be the change or step aside.<br />
<br />
Regards,<br />
Lynne<br />
Your very typical, every day normal, tax-paying, educated, hard-working American citizen</div>Lynniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05861370866300226666noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3575083661551019616.post-49397365943438297222010-11-06T13:42:00.000-07:002010-11-06T13:53:42.543-07:00Dusting off the pagesWell hello! What a long summer it was, leading to a great Fall (yes, that's punny).<br /><br />So much has gone through my mind and the busy nature of life swept it under carpets for another day. Now that the chill in the air has chased me back inside, those days are here.<br /><br />I've started another blog which is an attempt to trace a new project- Life By Numbers- 365-52-12 to 101 in 1001. <br />That is things I will be doing every day, every week, every month in an attempt to whittle down my 101 things to do in 1001 days list.<br /><br />Additionally, I have returned to writing. I find sometimes that summer painting season shoves my writing muse out of the picture, and hog ties her to a pipe in the corner until there are no more faces to paint. Now the writing has come back.<br /><br />The required creative process seems to have changed.<br /><br />At this time last year I was prolifically writing short stories, some based on prompts. The prompts were amazing.<br />Right now, not so much. I have inspiration in other ways but that doesn't help me with the writing community I'm part of. I know that reigning advice is to just sit down and write but it just isn't there. How do you make something happen that isn't there?<br /><br />We'll find out tonight as I write for a very uninspiring prompt. I've pulled in music to help me...actually song lyrics which will serve as transitions for the action and thoughts, maybe. Hopefully. Right now it's all I have. Someone else's words.<br /><br />Time to test the time honoured advice of "just write".<br /><br />Maybe my muse is still feeling beat up. Perhaps she needs some Advil and a glass of water to nurse herself back to her previous glory.<br />Perhaps.Lynniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05861370866300226666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3575083661551019616.post-34721760419270484032010-07-04T09:19:00.000-07:002010-07-04T10:39:29.514-07:0010 ways to Creation- the first 3 baby stepsOn a writing group I am in, we have been reviewing the top 10 pieces of advice from "famous" authors.<br /><br />As always, there have been absolute pearls of wisdom buried deeply within dung. <br /><br />What I found almost insulting were the authors who seemed to approach the task with useless sarcasm. <br />Did they not realize the purpose was to offer guidance to those who follow?<br />Did they not care?<br /><br />Some, in their efforts to appear like mysterious, intelligent, creative artistes, were baffling at best. Simple statements with no clarity gave us much to discuss and almost nothing to bite into. It was, at times, very unfulfilling.<br /><br />For those of us wishing to learn, it was frustrating to read holier than thou perspectives from authors we'd never even heard of.<br /><br />It did, however, inspire me to think of what my 10 pieces of advice would be for anyone diving into the creative pond.<br /><br />So far I have thought of 3 that are imperative to my creative process: be it art, writing or costuming.<br /><br />1. Research. Do not assume you know. Do not assume your audience does not know. In this age of information, people know more obscure things that we give them credit for.<br /><br />2. Remember all the rules you've been taught about creating a piece, and throw them out the the window, into a hurricane and watch them blow away. When editing, use them as guidelines. When creating, go with your gut.<br /><br />3. Be flexible and open to change. Change in your outline or notes. Change in your characters or settings. Change in design. Just allow for a bit of wiggle room. All creations like to breathe and I love to be surprised when they are done.Lynniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05861370866300226666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3575083661551019616.post-63376110004918496482010-05-09T13:36:00.000-07:002010-05-09T15:17:55.683-07:00The Process of CreatingI write. I make art. These are just things I do.<br />I would not be so bold as to call myself an author or an artist, even in the sitting-in-a-coffee-house-while-attempting-to-look-earnest-and-artsy sense. <br /><br />Join any chat group, read an artist blog long enough, and inevitably the question of "How does one create?" comes up.<br />I find it surprising that anyone would attempt to define such a magical process. Then I realized, it is not magic for some, or rather for many. It seems that plotting, planning and premeditation control the creative process. This begs me to ask, is that truly creating?<br /><br />Of course, in the very base of the definition, it is. You are giving birth to something new to the world. At the same time, where is the spontaneous nature that can lead down magical rabbit holes?<br /><br />I took the time to evaluate what I do.<br /><br />I write. I start with an idea, some distant twinkle that has no clear definition and I write a few words on a page. The twinkle becomes clearer, less obscure. Images begin to appear in my minds eye, slowly at first like a photograph building speed into a flip book and eventually rolling off like a movie. My fingers ache to keep up with it all as the action unfolds. I sleep, breathe and eat these alternate worlds. <br /><br />Most interesting to me is that there are times when I have such a clear idea of how things will go, and then these living beings dancing across my page tell me "No." They move along at their own pace and tell me how their lives will be. I am simply their vessel, the one who allows them to come to life. These characters honour me by allowing me to tell their stories, and in doing so they enrich my life.<br />I can't ever say that there is a process to that, or that I create them. I see and am inspired. I absorb. I translate.<br /><br />My art, body art and sketches that is, comes from a wholly different place.<br />This involves much planning on my part. I have templates that I draw on to get the images to flow just right. There is researched involved. Sifting through images on Flikr, Google and books until I find something that works just right.<br />The image I come up with is a gem in the rough, one that becomes refined and polished later with details that evolve as I move through the piece. The end result is generally an image that comes close to what I had originally set out to create.<br />Process is a monumental part of these projects.<br /><br />Which is more accurate to my personal style? Well...that, my friends, is a topic for another day because I do believe it involves defining my style. What I do know is that they both work for me.<br />Neither is flawless, and I fully admit that it may not be correct for everyone but I don't believe for an instant that there is a correct way to write or to make art.<br />Whatever teachers, professors or professionals say may be relevant for them but at the end of the day what I am left with is MY computer, MY pen and paper, MY own creative mind. <br />And that's honestly good enough for me.Lynniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05861370866300226666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3575083661551019616.post-27520130886031852502010-01-03T13:38:00.000-08:002010-01-03T15:37:19.594-08:00The Toughest JobThere was once a military commercial that said "The toughest job you'll ever love."<br /><br />I scoffed and laughed every time it was on.<br /><br />Men crawled through mud under fences and I thought it was nothing compared to trying to giving a toddler a bath after getting him back from a chocohaulic auntie.<br /><br />A drill sergeant screaming at you? Try a hungry infant, with a fever, at 3am the day you have to be up at 7 for a final exam. Or alternately, I would like to suggest facing down the freshly angered tween. This is a beast who will say anything to hurt you since you stopped them from playing a video game and texting in order to do the dreaded chores. Suddenly Sergeant Slaughter seems like a lick-happy puppy. <br /><br />Live artillery training? How about negotiating a Lego minefield with the foot marring addition of Hot Wheels cars while attempting to dodge the projectile vomit in order to change baby's diaper before the inevitable diarrhea bout kicks in. Seriously, the idea of facing down a tank seems pleasant now, doesn't it?<br /><br />I would love to take exception with the military for falsehood in advertising. It could never compare to motherhood, which I undertook as a single, college student. I know, not ideal but I have to say, I wouldn't change a thing.<br /><br />I love being a mom. I HATE being a parent. Parents have to make tough decisions, they have to set rules and make the kids stick to them, they have to get up at 5am on Saturday to make sure their child is at wrestling practice by 6am. Parents have to make kids eat broccoli, do homework and go to bed in the middle of a favorite show.<br />It brings to mind the age old parental adage "This hurts me more than it hurts you."<br />I never would have thought it, but it's true! The day I figured it out I was floored.<br /><br />Parenthood hurts more than being a child does.<br /><br />My mothers heart breaks when my son hurts, but I pretend to be strong to help him heal.<br />My mothers heart shatters when he tries, and fails. I smile and encourage him to try again ignoring my own pain.<br />My mothers heart stops when we fight because I fear that he will forget how much I love him, no matter how often I say it. Still, I fight him anyway knowing that once he learns that homework really is important, he will be a better man for it.<br /><br />Being a parent, a mother, is the toughest job anyone could ever love.Lynniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05861370866300226666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3575083661551019616.post-24973760329778464692010-01-03T11:31:00.000-08:002010-01-03T13:27:20.215-08:00From the Mind of a Foibled MortalI have a theory about people.<br />I believe that we become so caught up being someone else's something that our own personalities get lost along the way. I also think that while in that position, reality grips us so firmly that we forget what it is like to get lost in a fantasy, even for a moment.<br />Daydreams give way to "Honey-do lists".<br />Desires transform into dinner plans.<br />Hope and wishes become silent prayers about bills and children.<br />I've seen it.<br />I've lived it.<br />None of these are bad, but that are not the sum of who we are.<br /><br />I've witnessed adults who want to play with the same freedom they had as children but who seem to have forgotten how. Those who seek simplicity and adventure, afar and in their own backyards, but fail to recognize it.<br />Abandon, joy, a sense of self, self-awareness enough to embrace who we are as individuals as well as maintain those relationships without losing ourselves to them. They are within reach, I think.<br /><br />I've had it. I've since lost it in the back of a closet with my son's other wrestling shoe, the favored green shirt of my fiance and my sanity but I promise I did have it once.<br /><br />And I want it again.<br /><br />To recapture it I need to look at my past, for that is where it started, and where it was lost.<br />I need to look at where I am now, what I'm doing and how it all adds up.<br /><br />These aren't excavations as much as stories. I'm not a psychologist and am incapable of going all Freud on myself without breaking into fits of giggles.<br />Instead I want to revisit stories, personal myths and legends, lessons that harbor seeds of wisdom and encourage me to be open to every possibility.<br /><br />So here I am to share the whispers of days gone by, chronicle the now and ponder the paths I've yet to travel.<br />It won't be easy. I expect laughter, tears and a bucket load of "what the hells" and "reallys?" to come up along the way but that's the best part.<br />What's the use of a story if it doesn't tug, push. pull or effect something?<br /><br />*deep breath*<br /><br />Here we go.<br />Flaws, mortality and all.Lynniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05861370866300226666noreply@blogger.com1