Whats on my mind today? and Sorry I have been gone so long...

There was something I wanted to say today. I keep thinking and thinking and coming back to the idea that of all religions I could be I simply must be a Universalist. So many fervent beliefs, so many personal truths, for so many people. How do we decide as a people who is right and who is crazy? Am I qualified to make this distinction? Are you?

I feel like the divine must be able to overcome all of that. The divine is capable of being what each person who needs it, needs. (I hope I did not make that statement too convoluted.) For the people who need Allah, the divine is Allah. For those who need the Greek gods, or the Celtic gods, or Yahweh, that which is divine is all of those. That which is divine is not limited to that which is within my own perception, it is beyond my own experience, it is divine. How can mortals put restrictions on that which is divine? How are we so perfect to know better? I think we are not, and I think we need to remember that as people we are more alike than we are different. We all need food and water to survive. We each have blood running through our veins, and we are all human, and we all deserve respect no matter what our beliefs.

I know, short post, but that’s how I am thinking today, and I know, it has been a long while since my last post. Sorry! I will try for weekly again!

Pray for Peace

I mentioned that I was going to start attending the local UU church and this poem/prayer was spoken there and I felt like I needed to share it.

Pray for Peace

Pray to whomever you kneel down to:
Jesus nailed to his wooden or plastic cross,
his suffering face bent to kiss you,
Buddha still under the bo tree in scorching heat,
Adonai, Allah. Raise your arms to Mary
that she may lay her palm on our brows,
to Shekhina, Queen of Heaven and Earth,
to Inanna in her stripped descent.


Then pray to the bus driver who takes you to work.
On the bus, pray for everyone riding that bus,
for everyone riding buses all over the world.
Drop some silver and pray.

Waiting in line for the movies, for the ATM,
for your latte and croissant, offer your plea.
Make your eating and drinking a supplication.
Make your slicing of carrots a holy act,
each translucent layer of the onion, a deeper prayer.

To Hawk or Wolf, or the Great Whale, pray.
Bow down to terriers and shepherds and Siamese cats.
Fields of artichokes and elegant strawberries.

Make the brushing of your hair
a prayer, every strand its own voice,
singing in the choir on your head.
As you wash your face, the water slipping
through your fingers, a prayer: Water,
softest thing on earth, gentleness
that wears away rock.

Making love, of course, is already prayer.
Skin, and open mouths worshipping that skin,
the fragile cases we are poured into.

If you're hungry, pray. If you're tired.
Pray to Gandhi and Dorothy Day.
Shakespeare. Sappho. Sojourner Truth.

When you walk to your car, to the mailbox,
to the video store, let each step
be a prayer that we all keep our legs,
that we do not blow off anyone else's legs.
Or crush their skulls.
And if you are riding on a bicycle
or a skateboard, in a wheelchair, each revolution
of the wheels a prayer as the earth revolves:
less harm, less harm, less harm.

And as you work, typing with a new manicure,
a tiny palm tree painted on one pearlescent nail
or delivering soda or drawing good blood
into rubber-capped vials, writing on a blackboard
with yellow chalk, twirling pizzas--

With each breath in, take in the faith of those
who have believed when belief seemed foolish,
who persevered. With each breath out, cherish.

Pull weeds for peace, turn over in your sleep for peace,
feed the birds, each shiny seed
that spills onto the earth, another second of peace.
Wash your dishes, call your mother, drink wine.

Shovel leaves or snow or trash from your sidewalk.
Make a path. Fold a photo of a dead child
around your VISA card. Scoop your holy water
from the gutter. Gnaw your crust.
Mumble along like a crazy person, stumbling
your prayer through the streets.
   -Ellen Bass



Picture found Here.

Dear Goddess, Help me!

Goddess of transformation, painting
Jen Lester

Dear Goddess,
Help me to know what is worth fighting for and which battles are already lost.
Help me to see the beauty in everything and dismiss nothing as ordinary.
Help me to wake up every morning and feel renewed rather than worn out.
Help me to see the divine in myself rather than looking so far away.

Dear Goddess,
I know you watch and I know you wait.
I know you want me to learn and I know you rejoice as I do.
Please allow me the space to make mistakes without hating myself for them.
Please help me to see that I am only human and cannot always be perfect.

Dear Goddess,
Help me to know when to use my sword and when to use my shield.
Help me to understand the nature of the things I can understand.
Help me to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Help me to love, through fear and pain, and always shine in your light.

In Sickness and In Health, Edification.

No, last week I did not make a PBP post. I felt bad about it, I enjoy making them, and I feel like they do help me put thoughts in order, but I was ill, and therefore had other priorities.

That said this week I am making a post, and I may even start scheduling others, (non PBP related.) In an attempt to help me better understand myself and my practice, and to force a little personal edification, I shall be posting more. Look for thoughts on Mondays and Tuesdays in addition to my usual Friday postings.

Today also marks My first anniversary with my wonderful husband, (sort of, we were married on the 29^th of February.) I am happy to be married to such a wonderful and supportive person.

Ahem, right, now on to my PBP post!

Edification

Woo hoo! That sounds a bit pretentious doesn’t it? Well it’s something I have been feeling, (no, I know edification is not a feeling, just bear with me.)

You know that place in your practice where you get used to it? You know your god/ddess/ deity/ whatnot. You know what you do that works, and you enjoy what you are doing, then about 3 years or so down the road you start to feel a little bit burnt-out, like these things you are doing are not doing for you what they once did? Many people suffer a crisis of (is faith the right word here?) at this point. Why do we let ourselves get to that point? Why do we let ourselves get used to things? Are we just trying to stay within our comfort zones, or do we fix ourselves on the patterns of every-day life, and making our practices every-day at the same time.

We forget to keep learning and growing, we no longer stand in awe of the universe, thinking we already understand it. We allow ourselves to become weighed down by groups or life and do not take the time for our personal and spiritual learning. So many people are depressed or anxious about the world and life that it gets in the way. But learning and growing is always good for us, and learning almost anything can be a spiritual endeavor. Why shouldn’t it be? Make it part of a daily devotion (or weekly, depending on how much time you really do have.) to learn something new, about the world, about history, about your deity, about everything!

Make life your edification!

Breathe new life into what you do whenever you can!

Devotion

Woo Hoo! I got the first letter of my post title to be this week’s letter!

So devotion, seems ambiguous, there a few ways to define devotion, from dictionary.com

de·vo·tion

/dɪˈvoʊ ʃən/ Show Spelled [dih-voh-shuh n] Show IPA

noun

1.

profound dedication; consecration.

2.

earnest attachment to a cause, person, etc.

3.

an assignment or appropriation to any purpose, cause, etc.: the devotion of one's wealth and time to scientific advancement.

4.

Often, devotions. Ecclesiastical . religious observance or worship; a form of prayer or worship for special use.

This oddly enough seems to be something people struggle with. So often newer pagans who don’t really have a grasp yet on just how umbrella the term is or what they mean when they say they are a new pagan start out confused. So often, because of how the term tends to be connoted, people come under the impression that they need to devote themselves to a deity of some kind, or they need to find a patron god and goddess, and devote themselves to them. If it is something you really want to do, go for it, but if it is something you are struggling with, DON’T DO IT!

Can I stress that point again, if it feels wrong DO NOT DO IT!

Doing things because you think it is the right thing to do, but you don’t understand or truly believe it is a bad plan, it has always been a bad plan, and it likely always will be. I’m not saying that any minor discomfort about change should stop you, any differentiation from your “norm” is going to feel a little awkward at first. Moral compunctions about doing something, or you don’t understand why you are doing it, the thing is best left un-done. Making a pledge to a deity you may find later fails to speak to you, or does not make you feel right, is a generally bad idea, wait until something feels right, or you really understand the point of why you are doing it. Once it makes sense or you realize you have a reason to do it, or even feel called to do it, by all means do it. Don’t feel like you need a pair, a god and goddess, or that they have to be all from the same pantheon, or know that sometimes an unexpected deity will call to you, and when something like that happens you will know it has happened. If one calls to you and you are lucky enough to have a connection like that, you will know, and it will likely feel more right than picking something out of a book, just to do it.

Devotion has more than just the one meaning though. I have only gone over some of #2, but #3 comes up a lot, craft tools and whatnot. They are oft discussed, and held by many people in extreme esteem. There are also different opinions and schools of thought as to what can be considered a craft tool. Many want their tools only used for craft purposes, consecrated and purified, and never touched by another. This is fine, if you can afford to have tools specifically for witchy purposes, many of the tools made for such purposes are quite expensive, and sometimes unnecessary. For example, my first athame was a swiss army knife, given to me by a member of the church I grew up in when I joined the army. I was not going to cease to use the multi-purpose tool for the purpose it was designed for, (this thing was amazing for working on my assigned truck!) I just added a use to its already, frankly, extensive list. Yes I cleaned it before any symbolic or ritual use, or use in cutting herbs, but it still meant a lot to me, and to me it felt like it was more powerful since I used it day to day, rather than letting it sit on a table not having a purpose any more. I suppose it is another one of those things that some people find more effective one way and others, another.

I feel like most of these definitions are already pretty much covered under #1 with profound dedication but #4 is slightly more difficult for pagans. There are whole walls of books dedicated to nothing but devotions for the different Christian faiths, but not so much for pagans. Well there is a very good one online, run by Thalassa, and has a number of contributors as well.

Pagan Devotionals

Our bible is the wind and the rain… and more.

Cats and Crows and Late Winter Snows

There.

I’m finally doing it.

I am finally giving some context and meaning to the title of my blog!

They all mean something to me, whether it is magical, mundane or otherwise.

             First things first, I suppose, I love cats. I always have. There is just something about them all domestic, wild, or anything in between, that is fascinating to me. We had cats when I was very young, but when my mom and brother and I moved out of my grandparent’s house, we did not get more. My father was allergic, and not too fond of them anyway. So I had to wait until I was married and living with my husband before I would have a kitty again. Now I have two, Cthulhu and Realta. Cthulhu has some minor personality issues, which means she is not particularly fond of people, or them doing things. She will gladly roll onto her back as though she wants a tummy rub, and then will proceed to try and tear off whatever body part you have deigned to put near her. If she decides she is actually itchy she will suddenly become a purring cuddly ball of sweetness, but only when she wants to.



Cthulhu next to Realta,
 I swear they are not really this fat



Realta is different, not in that she likes people better, she is just a wee more justified. She was a rescue kitten, and before she was rescued she was feral. This is an odd situation in Delaware, as feral cats are considered wild animals, like squirrels, and will not be picked up and have homes found for them. Whatever happened to her that made someone decide she needed human help resulted in her ultimately losing one of her hind legs, and being a little bit paranoid. Paranoid or not this sweet little cutie loves attention, as long as she knows you and she is not busy being frightened by a dust mote. She does have an affinity to when I am utilizing magic, or meditating, or even preforming simple ritual or prayer.  She has to have a seat on my lap and have a nap. Sometimes she brings presents, things she finds on the floor, like coins or a crumpled bit of paper she dug out of the trash. All of them manage to mean something to what I am doing.  She just seems to have a place with me.

            Crows have always been there, massing somewhere nearby in the sky, shadowing me from somewhere.. They have never been an ill omen for me, they have always felt more like protection. They have never been ravens, despite my misidentifying them as such in my youth. As I got older and learned more about different spiritual paths, I learned how to identify with them, I even have a crow as a spirit companion. There seems to be a naivety to the crow, a sense that no matter how wise or even ferocious they may seem, or become, there will always be some kind of innocence or incorruptibility to them. Yes they are scavengers, and yes they can be frightening in numbers, but they occupy that in-between space. They are not pure like doves, or fun to look at like some exotic birds, their calls are not particularly melodic, but this does not make them evil. It only means that they are a different part of nature, of our own natures. This gives them the ability to have within them a connection to the everything, and to remain disconnected. They are neither blazing light, nor engulfing darkness, they are spiritually open, without the temperance of bias.

           Late winter snows are just awesome. You get all of the beauty of snow, and the warmth to sit outside and enjoy it in.

Thinking of today...

There are a few things I am thinking of today THIS is one of them. As a woman who has deployed to a combat zone, I think it is long past time that we admit we've already been in combat for years! Especially in the recent conflicts. I just wonder how many more men are going to come up to me and comment on the headline about how inappropriate it is to have women in combat? Maybe they would bugger off if they knew they were insulting me to my face? Well, it doesn't matter, the pentagon is doing it and a bunch of old fat men aren't going to stop it!

Here is the other thing that I am thinking about.

This video and monologue made me cry when I saw it over at Thalassa's Blog. The things that are being leveled at women, the struggles we still have when it comes to being treated the same as a man doing the same thing are not OK. The way media and congress people are trying to make us feel about the ways in which we use our bodys and how we look and who we are, are NOT OK! A woman should have the right to enjoy her body, in a spiritual (or not) way if she wants. What is demonized for women is considered normal and expected for men. I want to be able to hold the same job as a man, and I want to be paid the same for it. That is one reason that the women in the military made me so happy.

I know these things don't feel pagan-y, or spiritual to some people, but they matter so much to me. They matter like not being forced to be someone elses religion matters to me. These things matter to me like my right to marry matters to me, and like my friend's rights matter to me. America wants to be the land of the free, so let's make freedom ring, let it ring without us having to say it, let our actions speak for themselves! I want to continue to be free, and the day I cannot be while living in this country, will be a sad day indeed.

A Blessing

After the final candle is lit, I fall down to my knees. Eyes closed, back and forth, swaying to the sound of the chant. Gripped by the sensation of falling, I am steel and the chant continues. I reach the bottom, there is no ground to rise up and meet me, but I am standing, just the same. A soft glow starts at the edge of vision and grows into many small soft lights, like candles along a path. The soft lights float above the floor as if alive and unattached to any space, floating above the gentle mist. I am walking, almost upon the mist, though it feels like soft grass, in my toes. The lights lead me through a thicker mist that twists and forms into a black and dark forest, but between the lights is safety, and I am confident that here nothing can escape, nothing can touch me, unless I permiss it. The lights are beginning to get excited, they move and twist, they separate as though they need room to convulse, and dance, as unattached lights should. I feel a rhythm or a drum start to beat, from deep within my root, deeper than there seems space for. So my feet move, and I raise my arms, and ecstatic dance that I have never learned but always known. Even the dark misty trees sway and convulse to the new rhythm. I am not alone in my wild exuberance either, there are others here entranced by this strange music as well. There is one here, especially graceful as well, her exceptional elegance eclipsed only by her fierce strength.  The dance now centers around her, it is suddenly wilder, and more erratic, but no one misses a step, no one is felled by the movements. As we all move inexorably towards the dances climax, the dark mist enters the circle surrounding us all, and seems to permeate us weaving itself within the dance, creating  a barrier sealing us in. Closer, closer, until we all seem to be ready to collide, but even our fingertips never seem to touch.

She stops suddenly, looking straight at me, her gaze locked upon my own eyes, and abruptly all those dancing with me are me, merged into one, whole again. “Child, you asked for protection, for a blessing, and now you have it.” Her voice is melodic but strong, though it is shouted and whispered and sung all at once. “I have multiplied your spirit, and lent you my shield, I give you my sword as well, just know when to leave it sheathed. Go now and know that you are protected, know that you are mine.” With an otherworldly grace, a hand rises to my shoulder, and a heat radiates off of her and through my body, filling me. Then suddenly she is turning around and away, walking, fading, back into the mist, and it is my turn to continue back down the path I came from. Now the lights are what I am walking upon, almost carrying me back to where I belong. Back, back to the place where once I was falling, now lifting . Slowly I know I am rocking, chanting, though so softly now. My eyes open to the candle now burned down to a bit of a nub.




(I had titled this post differently, but determined that its former title was just too goofy for me, so I shall not bend over backwards to make the weeks letter go first!)

Again!

So when I started posting under the Pagan Blog Project, I probably should have noticed a few things; First, that I started a week late. Second, apparently, I am posting on the wrong day.

Today’s post will be an attempt not only to catch up, (on totally the wrong day!) but, to expound on my previous topic, because I feel like I did not do it the justice it deserved, or even really make it my own. In that respect, here we have it!

Ancestors, Again!

So ancestor veneration is important on many paths and not just pagan ones, and just starting out, I had decided that it was something that I was supposed to do, so I did it. The problem with that is that I had no memory of ancestors, (I have known all of my grandparents, but at the time, they were all alive.) Great grandparents were little more than names, and very few pictures. My family did not keep a lot of pictures about, and especially few of those who had passed. I was starting from blank space, I had no place to look for meaning. I had a mirror, a glass of water, and a candle, and that was it, the whole ritual was meaningless to me. I had no connection to it. So I stopped. That worked out just fine too. As I moved away from the path I had started on, I realized that the idea of ancestors did mean something to me but not in a traditional “these people were related to me” sense. My own ancestors did not mean very much, but there have always been people here, where I live, taking care of themselves and their families, people who may have walked paths similar to my own, that they have had to cut for themselves. Why couldn’t these people be my ancestors? So they are!

I am not alone, I may not walk a physical path with others, but in spiritual workings, I have guidance. If I walk the underworld, there are those who walk beside me, I may not know so much who they were, but I know who they are for me. Since then I have had a set of grandparents die, and they occasionally walk with me, they were mostly Christian in their own time, but this has apparently not stopped my paternal grandmother from being with me at times. Even solitaries need not practice alone, there are always those who came before you, and there always will be, your ancestors will be to you who they are, and no one should be able to say otherwise!

There, now I feel better.

Ancestor veneration

This will be the first article in an alphabet series, I am totally new to blogging, so I am borrowing this Idea from a post by blogger Thalassa regarding the Pagan Blog Project, (seen below.)

Ancestors

Ancestor worship and reverence is a big part of many cultures, peoples, and faiths. Many paths include it and many people find it a good way to stay in touch with the world around them and themselves even. Ancestors don’t have to be worshipped like gods, but being respectful never hurts, having the blessings and protections of the parts of your family who came before you is never a bad thing.

Respecting your ancestors can bring you help in many forms, but it should not be thought of as a tit for tat sort of situation. Don’t think of them as a means to an end, or a tool to be used, it is disrespectful and defeats the purpose of honoring them. Just keep them good tempered and in your thoughts and when a time comes that you do need something, they may be more inclined to offer assistance.

Honoring your ancestors can take many forms, some people make offerings and keep altars, some people honor them in what they do, they say prayers, research their family backgrounds, memorize all the people who have passed on.  It all depends on what speaks to you. Even non-pagans have some form of ancestor veneration. In Hispanic Catholicism, they light candles and leave glasses of water out for passed loved ones, with pictures of the deceased and various saints to look out for them. Families who can afford it have big stone monuments built for loved ones, (grave stones) and most grave sites are marked in some way. Even scattering the ashes of the deceased is a sign of respect for loved ones.

Ancestors can be anyone who has gone before you, they all now have some knowledge that you do not possess, (even if it is just “what comes after?”) Anyone who was not respected in life is going to be harder to establish a connection with after death, even if just for protection of your family. Also those who were not good people in life are not necessarily going to change that in death, but some do.

I personally have very few people in my ancestry I can actively remember, anyone I did not know personally was not often talked about, and in the early days of my immediate family there was some turmoil that separated me from the paternal part of my family permanently. This does not stop me from making connections, or giving family the respect that they deserve. I don’t have photos of my own, just memories and things that remind me of those who came before. These things occupy a wall near the table my actual altar resides, and they surround a tiny mirror, as it is said in many cultures that they reside on the other side of the mirror.  (This is usually the case, but I am currently packing up to move, so everything is shuffled about. Pictures will be posted at a later date.)

Thalassa’s post-  http://nuannaarpoq.wordpress.com/2013/01/08/pagan-blog-project-from-the-arche/