Drop by for a Visit!

Hi, have you been over to visit my new blog? There's a great conversation going on about whether or not Pagans need buildings (churches, temples, community centers, etc.) You can find it here. Come on over share your thoughts!

If you've been kind enough to follow me here, or to blog roll me (for which, thank you!) I'd be very grateful if you'd update your information. My new blog is at hecatedemeter.wordpress.com .

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We're Moving; Please Come Visit!

Please follow me to my new blog at http://hecatedemeter.wordpress.com. Or, just click here.

If you've been kind enough to follow me here, or to list my blog in your blogroll (for which, thank you!) I hope that you'll update the information.

You can also follow me on Twitter as hecatedemetersd.

Thank you!

Hecate Demetersdatter

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A Poem for Our Time

Blogger is having, as we used to say, "issues," so if posting is a bit light for the next few days, it's not only because G/Son and I are busy going to the farmers' market, reading about how Arthur became the king, blowing bubbles, visiting the nature center, climing on the jungle gym at the park near Nonna's house, playing knights in armour, picking herbs, and coloring with our 84 crayons, but because of said issues.

In the meantime, have a poem:

The End of Science Fiction
By Lisel Mueller

This is not fantasy, this is our life.
We are the characters
who have invaded the moon,
who cannot stop their computers.
We are the gods who can unmake
the world in seven days.

Both hands are stopped at noon.
We are beginning to live forever,
in lightweight, aluminum bodies
with numbers stamped on our backs.
We dial our words like Muzak.
We hear each other through water.

The genre is dead. Invent something new.
Invent a man and a woman
naked in a garden,
invent a child that will save the world,
a man who carries his father
out of a burning city.
Invent a spool of thread
that leads a hero to safety,
invent an island on which he abandons
the woman who saved his life
with no loss of sleep over his betrayal.

Invent us as we were
before our bodies glittered
and we stopped bleeding:
invent a shepherd who kills a giant,
a girl who grows into a tree,
a woman who refuses to turn
her back on the past and is changed to salt,
a boy who steals his brother’s birthright
and becomes the head of a nation.
Invent real tears, hard love,
slow-spoken, ancient words,
difficult as a child’s
first steps across a room.

Cottage Garden

It's an almost impossibly perfect day here on the banks of the overfull Potomac River. I'm doing work that I'm good at and that I love. My garden is taking off. My dreams keep telling me interesting things. G/Son is thriving and I'm having dinner w/ Son tomorrow at a new French place in D.C. And while the world goes to hell in a handbasket and Obama (who got elected because that evil woman voted for the war) is now sending drones into Libya, I'm still filled with gratitude for the chance to help re-weave the web every morning that the Goddess wakes me up to do this interesting thing all over again. One of these times, I'm bound to get it right. I live in a city that gives me a chance almost every day to quickly ground, center, throw a web of intent across a motorcade or helicopter or government official and raise energy from the Earth to guide those involved to open to goodness, mercy, compassion. No matter what else, I can go to bed every night in my little cottage and be grateful for that.

I'm off now to sit at my altar, to which I'm bringing the first gardenia bloom of the season as on offering. They say that the Summerlands smell of apples. That will be nice, but I hope that they have gardenias there, too, because I may love that smell better than almost anything else -- well, except for the smell of Son's head when he was a baby -- ever. What's your favorite smell?

There's some great writing out there on the internets (as W used to say).

As always, if you only read one blog all week, it should be The Arch Druid Report.

Literata makes a great point here.

Thalia shows what it's really like to work with all you've got to be in relationship with a bit of Earth.

Beth Owl's Daughter talks about changing your home in order to change your life. Magic, indeed.

Medusa has a list of events from Wisconsin to the Netherlands. They will keep on speaking her name.

Patti Winginton adds to my comments about how Christians should (not) talk to Pagans.

Byron Ballard reminds us that in the midst of life, we are in death and the veils can thin at any time.

The always erudite and sensible Makarios links to Swidler's Dialogue Decalogue.

Teacats points out in comments that the divine S.J. Tucker already explained everything in song to Christians who want pointers on how to talk to Pagans.

And, on Twitter, Cary Rockland asks a question that's had me thinking all afternoon. What "success rituals" do you use to achieve peak performance? I keep wondering if I even have any? Best I've come up with is: lean protein at breakfast and remembering my "why," but I feel as if this is a question I need to work on a lot more. How would you answer it?

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Snow Damage

Comcast is out here in my corner of the mighty MidAtlantic. Please check out some of the great blogs in my blog list.

Clean!

Doing a bit of end-of-calendar-year housekeeping on the Blog List.

Now's a good time to let me know, "Hey, I haven't posted in a bit, but I'm ramping up, so don't remove me," or "Yo! I wish you wouldn't list me; I don't want to be associated with teh crazy," or "Geez, is there a reason why my fabulous blog, where I post daily, ISN'T listed?"

Just as a matter of personal preference, I'm less likely to list blogs that are mostly personal journal and more likely to list blogs that post on topics of spiritual growth/politics/art. Not that there aren't hundreds of amazing blogs that I don't list. So please don't take any decisions personally.

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My New Name for a Blog

What Gus Said.

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Giving Back

I make a nice living working for The Man and I haven't (yet) had to do a fundraiser here on the internets. But if you do enjoy my blog and you have a bit of money energy that you'd like to send back into the universe, you could donate it to Athenae's First Draft. I'm a pretty good writer and I can produce some decent prose, but, as I've said before, I'd chew off my right arm to be able to write the way that Athenae writes.

hat tip/ watertiger.

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Reprise

Prosed out, and wiped from work, but here's an oldie, but a goodie that you may have missed. Normal blogging activities will hopefully resume tomorrow, if I'm not still busy turning people into newts.

You know who you are.

Whoa; I'm Glad to Be Busy, But, Still . . . .

Work is kicking my ass. Please check out some of the fine blogs in my blog list.

Witchcraft is a way of life for individuals, not the masses, and there's no point in you coming toward the Craft if you are a wimp, a follower, a coward, or a fool, as sorcery is both a practice and a priesthood, and it is not a garment that can be discarded when the going gets tough.

LY DE ANGELES, Witchcraft: Theory and Practice

Is your athame sharp?

What an amazingly cool bit of magic. I may start participating myself. What a magical Full Moon project for a coven.

How are you preparing for the coming cold months?

Was your relationship with the land an active one today?

Caramel Lattes to Hermes

What Are You Harvesting?

Lammas

(Lyrics by Arnon Clark / Music The Mingaulay Boat Song)



Chorus – Now is Lammas, Summer Harvest
Bind the sheaves tight and carry the grain home.
Feed the children, all the family
Food and plenty throughout the fall.

Call it Lammas, Lugh or Lughnasadh, but gather closely the first fruits of harvest.
We’ve no fear now, of want or famine, by the love of the God and Goddess.
As the long days all grow shorter, and the Horned One, He wanes and weakens,
We have plenty, and good eating, through His dying to live again.


As the sun sets, so the moon will rise. Praise the Lady and light the fire.
From Her body, and His sacrifice, comes our harvest and our lives.
Join your voices, spirits and your hearts. Bring your love now, and join together.
For the harvest it is gathered, and the time for the dance is come.

-Chorus (repeat)

*******

Brutally hot, today, in the MidAtlantic, on one of the strongest, most magical Full Moons I've ever known.

I spent most of it inside, running out for just a few moments to harvest sage, harvest thyme, harvest basil, harvest lavender, water brugmansia, water lilacs, water even the rosemary.

I spent most of it at the farmers' market buying tomatoes and I spent most of it making gazpacho and tiny, cold potatoes, stuffed with sour cream, caviar, and chives, for tomorrow's gathering.

I spent most of it at my altar, rocking, chanting, overcome with this Moon's magic, lighting candles and incense and smudge sticks, running my roots deep into the warm Virginia clay, twisting around the oak roots and maple roots and crape myrtle roots and birch roots and gardenia roots and cryptomeria roots. I spent most of it grounding and wrapping my roots around the foundation of this cottage, around the deep roots of the wisteria-covered shed, around the etheric roots of the fire pit.

I spent most of it knitting a warm, winter sweater for G/Son with handspun, hand-died yarn, yarn the color of burning embers, warm yellows, shining sunsets. With every row, I knit in safety, glamour, good health, warmth.

I spent most of it writing legal prose, figuring out the best way to describe the issues in a case, explaining evidence, being spare. I love that work. I really do. It's mostly what I was born to do.

I spent most of it watching a half-dozen episodes of Dark Shadows. I began a few years ago with Episode 1 (Victoria on a train, Elizabeth at the window) and I'm now up to the I Ching and Quentin Collins. When I finish, I'm going to go back to the beginning.

I spent most of it blogging.

I spent most of it realizing how much I love my life.

I did.

How did you spend it?

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Spring Cleaning

Getting ready to do a Spring cleaning on my blogroll. If you haven't posted in some time, but are about to start posting again, let me know. If you'd like to be removed, let me know. If I haven't included you, but should, please let me know.

You can email me at hecatede metersd atterd athotmaild otc om

Nobody At Atrios Does "Frist" Anymore. But This Is Still A Good Idea

Tell me in comments why your blog is ripe for a link on February 3rd!

Blog Blog Blog

Phila's weekend Hope Blogging is up. If he isn't a weekly stop for you, he should be.

I'll just add that: The odious Operation "Rescue" is out of money.

Dr. Dean, Jane Hamsher, and NTodd, are still in there fighting for a public option. Me too; how 'bout you?

Michelle Obama's kids are back in school and she, too, is coming out swinging for health care reform.

I have a datura mutation growing in my garden and it looks as if it will make seeds for next year (slightly smaller and more upward facing flower and v creepy leaves). My brugmansia bloomed w the creepiest white blossoms ever (also, poison).

and

Poetry is alive and well.

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Go Read Mickey Z

I'm in the mountains, hugging trees.



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And, Now, A Word From Our Moderator

Lately, the comments section has been filling up with folks posting ads, especially, it seems, for some sort of games or gaming stuff. I'm not talking about the kind of blog-whoring that is expected in Blogtopia. I'm talking about flat-out ads. I delete these as soon as I find them and will continue to do so.

I am going to ask, nicely, once, that the people doing this, whom I don't think are even regular readers, please stop. I've already gone to the trouble of making people enter word verification before they can comment, in an effort to try and stop advertising spam. That ought to serve as a clue that I don't want your ads in my comments section. Thank you in advance for your compliance.

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Why I Blog

Here's a challenge: Explain why you blog

Elizabeth
Ericka
Innana
Jennifer
Susie
Ruby

And, DiL, who I think has a blog inside her waiting to come out.

WANT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My brilliant friend Elizabeth has a post up about the coolest thing EVER. No. Really. This thing is the coolest thing ever. I want one!!! Now!!!!

Do You Ever Have Days Like This? I Do.

Someone could walk into this room and say, "Your life is on fire.
It's all over the evening news.
All about the fire in your life on the evening news."


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