First Of The Month Bazooms Blogging

Ladies! Listen up! Detecting breast cancer early is the key to surviving it! Breast Self Exams (BSEs) can help you to detect breast cancer in its earlier stages. So, on the first of every month, give yourself a breast self-exam. It's easy to do. Here's how. If you prefer to do your BSE at a particular time in your cycle, calendar it now. But, don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good.

And, once a year, get yourself a mammogram. Mammograms cost between $150 and $300. If you have to take a temp job one weekend a year, if you have to sell something on e-Bay, if you have to go cash in all the change in various jars all over the house, if you have to work the holiday season wrapping gifts at Macy's, for the love of the Goddess, please go get a mammogram once a year.

Or: The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention pays all or some of the cost of breast cancer screening services through its National Breast and Cervical Cancer Early Detection Program. This program provides mammograms and breast exams by a health professional to low-income, underinsured, and underserved women in all 50 states, six U.S. territories, the District of Columbia, and 14 American Indian/Alaska Native organizations. For more information, contact your state health department or call the Cancer Information Service at 1-800-4-CANCER.

I know that a recent study indicated that early detection via breast self exams might not be "cost effective." I'm not a scientist, but when I read those studies, they appear to be saying that sometimes women find a lump during the BSE that turns out not to be cancer. Those women have caused some expense and have gone through some discomfort in order to find out that the lump wasn't cancer. I don't know about you, but when that happens to me, as it has a few times since my first mammogram found a small, curable, cancerous lump, I go out and buy a new scarf, take myself out for a decadent lunch, call everyone I know, and declare it a good day.

Send me an email after you get your mammogram and I will do an annual free tarot reading for you. Just, please, examine your own breasts once a month and get your sweet, round ass to a mammogram once a year. If you have a deck, pick three cards and e-mail me at hecatedemetersdatter@hotmail.com. I'll email you back your reading. If you don't have a deck, go to Lunea's tarot listed on the right-hand side in my blog links. Pick three cards from her free, on-line tarot and email me at hecatedemetersdatter@hotmail.com. I'll email you back your reading.




Picture found here. Not safe for work.

No One Should Be Allowed To Make Poisons For Which There Is No Antidote

Wednesday Poetry Blogging

The Elephant is Slow to Mate
by D. H. Lawrence

The elephant, the huge old beast,
is slow to mate;
he finds a female, they show no haste
they wait

for the sympathy in their vast shy hearts
slowly, slowly to rouse
as they loiter along the river-beds
and drink and browse

and dash in panic through the brake
of forest with the herd,
and sleep in massive silence, and wake
together, without a word.

So slowly the great hot elephant hearts
grow full of desire,
and the great beasts mate in secret at last,
hiding their fire.

Oldest they are and the wisest of beasts
so they know at last
how to wait for the loneliest of feasts
for the full repast.

They do not snatch, they do not tear;
their massive blood
moves as the moon-tides, near, more near
till they touch in flood.


Picture found here.

Pouf

G/Son and I had a sleepover this weekend. We had an amazing time and drifted happily off to sleep, with him asking me to "one more time" sing him the lullabies that I used to sing to his father. He gets quite a kick out of the idea of Son being a little boy who went off to sleep with lullabies. About 3:00 in the morning, he stirred and whimpered, and I went over and rubbed his back and said, "It's just a dream. Nonna's here. Everything's ok. It's just a dream." G/Son murmured, still asleep, "Scares me, Nonna." I said, "Here, let's say 'pouf!' together; that will make it go away, like a bubble popping in the air," and, so, we did.

In the bright morning sunshine, eating breakfast out on the porch, I said, "It sounded like you had a scary dream last night." G/Son said, "Storm Troopers." I said, "Do you remember how we said, 'Pouf!" and made the storm troopers go away?" G/Son said, "Yes, just like a bubble popping in air."

So, I said, "Well, the next time that you have a scary dream, if you want to, you can use 'Pouf" and make it pop and go away. When you get older, I'll teach you some other stuff to do with the dreams, but, for now, you can tell those storm troopers 'Pouf!' and, since it's your dream, when you say 'Pouf!" they have to go pouf." G/Son laughed, we practiced saying "Pouf" and waving our arms and then we turned to a discussion of why the squirrels in Nonna's yard come and eat the bird food.

My New Name For A Blog

Janet explains the Zodiac.

Sun in Pisces.
Moon in Taurus.
Geminii Ascendent.

Everything she says is true.

Picture found here.

Justice Ginsberg Gets It Right

Majority opinion, authored by Ginsberg:

In a series of decisions, this Court has emphasized that the First Amendment generally precludes public universities from denying student organizations access to school sponsored forums because of the groups’ viewpoints. See Rosenberger v. Rector and Visitors of Univ. of Va., 515 U. S. 819 (1995); Widmar v. Vincent, 454 U. S. 263 (1981); Healy v. James, 408 U. S. 169 (1972). This case concerns a novel question regarding student activities at public universities: May a public law school condition its official recognition of a student group—and the attendant use of school funds and facilities—on the organization’s agreement to open eligibility for membership and leadership to all students?

In the view of petitioner Christian Legal Society (CLS), an accept-all-comers policy impairs its First Amendment rights to free speech, expressive association, and free exercise of religion by prompting it, on pain of relinquishing the advantages of recognition, to accept members who do not share the organization’s core beliefs about religion and sexual orientation. From the perspective of respondent Hastings College of the Law (Hastings or the Law School), CLS seeks special dispensation from an across-the-board open-access requirement designed to further the reasonable educational purposes underpinning the school’s student-organization program.

In accord with the District Court and the Court of Appeals, we reject CLS’s First Amendment challenge. Compliance with Hastings’ all-comers policy, we conclude, is a reasonable, viewpoint-neutral condition on access to the student-organization forum. In requiring CLS—in common with all other student organizations—to choose between welcoming all students and forgoing the benefits of official recognition, we hold, Hastings did not transgress constitutional limitations. CLS, it bears emphasis, seeks not parity with other organizations, but a preferential exemption from Hastings’ policy. The First Amendment shields CLS against state prohibition of the organization’s expressive activity, however exclusionary that activity may be. But CLS enjoys no constitutional right to state subvention of its selectivity.

The opinion's fun reading because it's clear (at least within SCOTUS opinion-speak) that Ginsberg really doesn't like the dissent. No surprise there, Altio essentially calls Ginsberg a politically correct liar. His rhetoric is rather overheated (my guess is that he was one of the votes for cert. and now regrets it.)

There are religious groups that cannot in good conscience agree in their bylaws that they will admit persons who do not share their faith, and for these groups, the consequence of an accept-all-comers policy is marginalization. See Brief for Evangelical Scholars (Officers and 24 Former Presidents of the Evangelical Theological Society) et al. as Amici Curiae 19 (affirmance in this case “will allow every public college and university in the United States to exclude all evangelical Christian organizations”); Brief for Agudath Israel of America as Amicus Curiae 3, 8 (affirmance would “point a judicial dagger at the heart of the Orthodox Jewish community in the United States” and permit that community to be relegated to the status of “a second-class group”); Brief for Union of Orthodox Jewish Congregations of America as Amicus Curiae 3 (affirmance “could significantly affect the ability of [affiliated] student clubs and youth movements . . . to prescribe requirements for their membership and leaders based on religious beliefs and commitments”). This is where the Court’s deci-sion leads.

***
I do not think it is an exaggeration to say that today’s decision is a serious setback for freedom of expression in this country.

Yes, it's amazing how marginalized the xians are in this country. To be clear, Alito's not talking about admitting nonbelievers to your church; he's talking about admitting them to a campus club. Any group that can't "in good conscience" do that, isn't trying to form a campus club; they're trying to form a church -- which cannot, under the Constitution, get state funding or support.

This was a 5 to 4 decision. Breyer and Kennedy were on the right side, this time. You can read the full opinion here.

Essentially, all that the opinion holds is that Hastings Law School wasn't required to give "recognized student organization" status (which includes some money from student activity fees, use of some school bulletin boards, etc.) to a xian group that excluded, for example, gays (well, at least "nonrepenetant" gays -- I guess it's ok as long as you feel bad about it afterwards and ask your god to forgive you). The group was still free to (and did) meet, communicate over social media networks, put up notices on other bulletin boards, etc. Because the requirement to "accept all comers" was content neutral, it was upheld.

What it means for Pagans is that they can't expect recognized student organization status if they want to exclude from their campus club xians or those who, for example, refuse to call East using the term "Guardians of the Watchtower," or who won't sign a pledge stating that only the Greek pantheon are "true" Gods and Goddesses. More importantly, it begins to put to bed the silly notion that unless xians get state funding and status to discriminate against others, then the xians are being discriminated against. Like everyone else, xians can play by the rules (not discriminate) and use the school's softball equipment, or they can discriminate all they want -- with their own ball and bat.

PIcture found here.

How It's Done

Here's a lovely write-up (quite rare for the WaPo, which generally ignores Pagans all together) of ConnectDC's recent public ritual.

After purifying and grounding themselves with a zinnia dipped in water, members of the group cast a circle and honored the sun goddess, Amatersu, and the Potomac River. Singing, laughter and not being afraid to "let your inner-dork hang out" were part of the hour-long event. As founder Katrina Messenger said, "Humor is one of the magical tools." Added Adam Miramon, "So is laughter."

Extra points to the author for capitalizing "Wiccan," but minus points for the lower-case "Goddess."

To nitpick, I don't think that they grounded themselves w/ the zinnia. I think they purified (asperged) themselves w/ a zinnia dipped in water (lovely touch) and then grounded, but that's the sort of mistake that it's easy for an outsider to make. This article is definitely a move forward for WaPo.

Boy, I Get Tired Of This Kind Of Bullshit

Here's an excellent, almost sympathetic (although, as usual, points off for failure to capitalize "Pagan", etc.), write-up of the long-running legal battle between the Maetreum of Cybele, Magna Mater and the Town of Catskill over the town's denial of a religious property tax exemption on the Maetreum's three-acre parcel along Route 23A.

The town's "reasons" for the denial sure do sound bogus:

First, Dan Vincelette, the town’s primary counsel in this proceeding, said during a phone interview that the 2007 exemption was initially denied because the group was experiencing structural turmoil during that year. No explanation for how that impacts tax exempt status. Nor of whether any xian church, in the process of throwing out its minister, has ever lost or been denied such status.

Then, According to Platine, a tour of the property by town officials, including Vincelette, yielded, to them, little sign of religious iconography.

Though to an unfamiliar vision, and without knowledge of their significance, Platine said, the Cybelline themes and traditional pagan symbols abounding throughout the hotel property may seem obscure.

“Here is a Minoan lily,” Platine said as she pointed to an inconspicuous hand-painted blue and yellow flower on the kitchen’s wooden bar.

Hanging on a kitchen wall were images of goddesses, the ancient deities praised by the Minoan culture.

On the parlor room mantle, amidst a piano and functional beeswax, cylinder-playing Victrola, sits a shrine where the priestesses worship and pray. In its center is a statuette of the Seated Woman of Catal Huyuk, also called Catalhoyuk, an iconographic depiction of the Mother Goddess.

The front entrance of the former inn shows Maetreum stenciling above the doorway, with goddess sculpture hanging beside the doorway and two lion statues guarding the entry way — a traditional guardian of ancient societies, Platine said. So I guess that unless you've got a crucifix or a star of david, there's no "religious iconography." No one tell them about the Islamic prohibition on representational art.

Then, During the Dec. 2 hearing, Pulver asked Smith for the precise arrears amount owed by the Maetreum, to which she responded that “the issue we are looking at isn’t so much the dollars and cents of exactly what the taxes are, which I don’t have off the top of my head, the issue is opening the floodgates. Once you relax the requirements, and if you stretch them too far, then you’re going to have just a multitude of organizations who under the spirit of the law go —”

At that moment, the official court transcript shows Smith was interrupted by Pulver, who again asked how much the amount of taxes owed was. Smith said she didn’t know and did not further qualify her statement. Come on. "Under the spirit of the law"? Really? Really?

To be clear, I don't think that any religious group should get a tax exemption, not even my own. But if you're going to give it to the xians, then you have to give it to everybody and you have to use the same standards.

Picture found here.

In A Dream

Horned One

Saturday Poetry Blogging

Aunt Leaf

~ Mary Oliver

Needing one, I invented her -
the great-great-aunt dark as hickory
called Shining-Leaf, or Drifting-Cloud
or The-Beauty-of-the-Night.

Dear aunt, I'd call into the leaves,
and she'd rise up, like an old log in a pool,
and whisper in a language only the two of us knew
the word that meant follow,

and we'd travel
cheerful as birds
out of the dusty town and into the trees
where she would change us both into something quicker -
two foxes with black feet,
two snakes green as ribbons,
two shimmering fish - and all day we'd travel.

At day's end she'd leave me back at my own door
with the rest of my family,
who were kind, but solid as wood
and rarely wandered. While she,
old twist of feathers and birch bark,
would walk in circles wide as rain and then
float back

scattering the rags of twilight
on fluttering moth wings;

or she'd slouch from the barn like a gray opossum;

or she'd hang in the milky moonlight
burning like a medallion,

this bone dream, this friend I had to have,
this old woman made out of leaves.

Picture found here.

Saturday Garden Blogging

Edith Bogue Magnolia Blossom. Smells like angel's wings and light morning sunshine.

Lavender, Full Moon, Eclipse

Grounding And Centering

Though often linked together in practice, grounding and centering your mystical energies are two separate processes. . . . "Grounding" is one of those energy words taken from technology -- in this case, electricity. To an electrician, to ground (or "earth") a current is to direct it into the ground, where it can then dissipate harmlessly. The [E]arth can absorb and dissipate a great amount of electrical energy. Thus, electrical wiring is typically grounded so that a short circuit (a flow of electricity heading somewhere where it's not supposed to go) will be redirected harmlessly into the [E]arth. Lightning rods work the same way. . . . [E]nergy workers [who] use the word ["]grounding["] . . . mean more or less the same thing -- taking excess energy or energy that is heading somewhere it isn't supposed to go and diverting it into the [E]arth.

* * *

Centering is a function of attention. All energy-working systems seem to agree that energy follows attention. . . . Centering, therefore, is moving your attention inside yourself, to your center. . . . When you center yourself, you are shifting energy to create a stable center of balance within yourself.

~ Phaedra & Isaac Bonewits in Real Energy.

Grounding and centering are "basic" practices of the Witch. Wicca 101. And, yet, the longer I practice, the more I find that I focus quite a bit on grounding and centering, both during my "daily practice" time and throughout the day.

When do you ground and center?

Picture found here.

Update: Isaac Bonewits is back in the hospital after emergency surgery. Modern neo-Paganism owes him a huge debt. You could light a candle tonight on the full Moon.

Friday Garden Blogging

Several kinds of basil (and some volunteer dill) in the herb bed.

Shade and shadow in the front garden.

What's in full bloom for you on this full Moon afternoon?

Ya Think?

[M]any Christian folk seem to me to be living largely disenchanted lives. Perhaps it's all the dogma, the rather stale services, and the general heaviness of establishment religion that closes so many people to mystery and wonder. Pagans, on the other hand, are radically alert to the magic of life, the planet and everything around them. They use symbol and ritual in such a way that connects powerfully with the human soul and makes sense not just to the mind, but to the heart and imagination, also.

Interesting viewpoint for an xian priest to hold.

Someone Explain To Me Why This Is Funny

Well, I'm no expert, and I've been surprised before, but, oddly, in all the years that I've been a Witch, I've never heard of this ancient Pagan holiday.

On the longest day of the year, when the sun barley dips below the horizon, the Danish come out in droves to celebrate the ancient pagan holiday known as The Burning Of The Witch. This year, Copenhagen's skateboarding ambassador, Rune Glifberg, teamed up with Volcom and Thrasher magazine to produce a contest in the spirit of this most ancient of annual rituals. Massive bonfires were set ablaze on the shores of Copenhagen as skaters began to eyeball the contest's double set.

If this were the "Burn the Jew" holiday, celebrated on a Jewish high holy day, or the "burn the Moslem" holiday celebrated on an Islamic high holy day, I doubt it would be considered quite as cute.

Also, minus points for failing to capitalize "Pagan".

In Love

Real magick is not merely an assortment of skills and techniques. It's more like an open minded attitude, a blend of interest and dedication, which allows each honest mage to observe, to learn, to adapt, and to invent unique new ways of changing identity and reality from within. Are you willing to learn from yourself?

The actual job of seeing a tree spirit is both simple and difficult. Speaking with the tree is sound practice, as it will amplify your experience and bring you closer in touch with it. Perhaps the tree spirit won't understand your words. It is certain to understand your mood and attitude. A feeling of genuine sympathy is the best possible link. In a sense this rite is as much an act of love as all evocation is: one comes to communicate with an aspect of the universe [of which] one was previously unconscious, and this act of communication is an act of union.

~Jan Fries in Visual Magick

The more that I focus on being "the witch of this place," the bigger the part of my practice devoted to grounding, to entwining my roots with all the roots that fill up the space just beneath the surface of my land. How does your own landbase influence your magic? If not, why not?

Picture found here.

Go Look

National Geographic has great Solstice pics from all over Gaia.

What Atrios Said

I totally stole this from Atrios.

Dear Gen Xrs:

Please ask yourselves qui bono from convincing you that "I'll never collect any Social Security"????

Love,

Hecate

We All Need Role Models

Have I mentioned that I totally adore Helen Mirren?

More here and here.

/hat tip to Mrs. F. in comments at Eschaton.

Amy

Feature, Not Up A Bug

Monsters And Maidens Must Work Together

Mischief

More here.

My New Name For A Blog

What Medusa Said

A baby under one arm and a dissertation under the other.

Don't you dare quit listening until you hear the song at the end.

Blessing Of The Sacred Day To You

Holy Mother, has there ever been a more perfect Litha day? Here in the nation's capital, it's sunny and hot, but not too muggy, and there's a lovely gentle breeze doing the most loving dance with all the leaves. The fae are still lingering from last night, just as the magic of good company still lingers on my porch. The daisies, day lilies, thyme, and basil are all abloom and my deck is a constant visiting place for robins, morning doves, blue jays, cardinals, hairy woodpeckers, and an occasional chipmunk. What a change from Yule, when my wonderful circle of amazing women couldn't get together due to a freakishly large blizzard, I couldn't even open the door to get out and feed the birds, and all the plants were buried under feet and feet of snow.

Litha is, when we live our lives in tune with the seasons, the time to appreciate how well our lives are going. What we planted at Ostara and Beltane should now be in bloom, and, of course, I don't mean "just" our herbs and flowers. If we've planted a regular daily practice, it is beginning to flower. If we've planted good works, kindness, and love, we'll be reaping those fruits.

If we're not happy with what we've got, there's still time for a mid-course correction between now and, say, Mabon, Samhein, Yule. As the days diminish, what needs to diminish in your life? As the nights grow long, what part of the mystery do you need to cultivate? What do you want to water? What should wither away in the late-Summer heat? How will you accept responsibility?

Picture found here.

Sunday Dance Blogging

Solstice Blogging; Mamelons de Vénus

The women who love me, love me. It's, likely, one of the greatest gifts of my life.

Saturday Poetry Blogging

Summer Invocation

~Trish Telesco

Fireflies and summer sun
in circles round
we become as one.
Singing songs at magick’s hour
we bring the winds
and timeless powers.
Turning inward, hand in hand
we dance the hearth
to heal the land.
Standing silent, beneath the sky
we catch the fire
from out God’s eye.
Swaying breathless, beside the sea
we call the Goddess
so mote it be!

Picture found here.

Rosewater

I love, love, love these long, sun-kissed days just around Litha, when I wake up bathed in golden light and fall asleep while it's still barely dusk. For this year's celebration, I'm making Aprhodite's Cakes, which use just a hint of rosewater (now available at Whole Foods so don't give me that "where the fuck would I buy that?" stuff) from a recipe that I pulled, years ago, out of Sage Woman. Surfing the web, I was delighted to find a post by the original author.

Remembering that all acts of love and pleasure (including, especially, eating) are rituals of the Goddess, you should go read the whole thing.

Here's a tiny taste:

[Rosewater] is particularly effective when combined with its kin, the bramblefruits: raspberries and blackberries. Because they are cousins to roses, these fruits really shine when they are kissed with the essence of the Queen of Flowers. Rosewater is subtle with these fruits, sliding into the flavor mix like a nymph sinking into water, until she is but a shimmer beneath the surface: you know it is there, but you cannot tell what it is. It is only a flowery scent, a flicker of something familiar that is just maddening to the senses, but that cannot be grasped: the nymph dances laughingly beyond the satyr’s reach.

Last year, my friends, the very friendly and very healthy hippie organic farmers at the farmer’s market, had a banner crop of blackberries, so they were selling these plump, shining beauties for next to nothing. These berries were so soft, so yielding and so full of sugar, that you could barely pick them up without bruising them and being stained with roseate juice. Just driving home with them filled my car with a miasma of sweetness, and when I brought them into the house, my kitchen smelled like the very tumescent essence of summer Herself.

I ate some by themselves, but I also decided to create a fitting frame for these lovely wonders. I baked a batch of sweet cream scones, a very rich and short pastry that is still moist, due to the addition of cream. They are not overly sweet however, because they did not need to be: the berries were dripping with fructose by themselves. I took some of the berries, the prettiest, and left them whole. The others, I macerated with just a touch of sugar to get them to release their juices, a squeezing of lemon juice to balance the sweetness with a note of acid, a goodly dollop of Chambord to add richness, and a few crystalline drops of rosewater to deepen the flavors.

I split the scones while they were barely warm, and spooned macerated berries over the first layer, then laid a spoonful of softly whipped, barely sweetened cream over it. I capped it with the top of the scone, added another spoonful of berries and juice, then the cream, and topped it all with three whole, perfect berries.

The recipe for Aphrodite's Cakes is available at the link above. The one bit of advice that I'll give is to use about half as much rosewater as you think you should use. There's a very, very, very fine line between an orgasmic sense that you're consuming the essence of a water nymph dancing just outside the grasp of saytr and a "need to go get a drink" sense of having consumed perfume. But, seriously, how can you not make them when you read this:

Chef Rainer, who is also from Bavaria, took a bite, and had a bit of a swoon. He finished it, opened his eyes, and said, in his accented baritone “It is like going to Church. It is better than communion. What do you call it?” I said, “Aphrodite’s Cakes.” And he smiled, and said, “Which would you rather eat, Christ, or Aphrodite?” I don't know about you, but even as a very straight woman, I know the answer to that.


How are you going to celebrate the longest day?

Picture found here.

In Which Our Heroine Ponders A Corner Market

Katrina Messenger once told me that magic workers who ignore their dreams put their spiritual growth at peril (or words to that effect). I've been working with my dreams ever since.

One of the first, slipperiest, and most challenging things for many of us to do is to remember our dreams. Not those great, big, life-changing dreams that you can't help but notice, but our every-night dreams. Gotta know what you dreamt before you can easily work with it. There are lots of suggestions for how to begin to better remember your dreams: tell yourself before sleeping that you'll remember your dream, keep a pen and journal by your bed and write it down as soon as you wake up, etc. I've tried lots of things.

I find that if, before I move physically, I can tell myself the story of the dream, often starting with the last little bit and remembering backwards, tell myself the story in words, I can keep the dream from slipping -- as our shadows and unconscious fears half want for it to do -- back into oblivion. Once I move (roll over, get up to pee (I'm an old woman!), turn the pillow over), I tell myself the story another time or two, trying to "see" the dream and recapture the "feeling" of it, often managing to remember another detail or two. Finally, I tell myself the story again, paying special attention to the words that came to me when I was telling myself the story. My subconscious likes to communicate through (or hide its messages behind!) synonyms, puns, word games. Thus, a dream about "one deer" may really be about a "dear one." A dream about a bridge may be about "Brigid," a dream about business on the river "bank" may be about my finances. Then, I look carefully for Goddesses, Gods, archetypes, Tarot. That old housewife in the thatched house in Ireland may be Brigid. That cool Japanese woman with long hair, a younger lover, and a house full of fountains and gardens may be Kwan Yin. That African American woman with green skin in the doctor's office may be Green Tara. That swan that carries me and my six male concubines (swordsmen) to the cave may be, duh!, the Six of Swords.

Then, I often slip back into that not-quite-asleep-not-all-the-way-awake place and "re-enter" the dream. I then "dream" the outcome that I want. For example, a very common dream for me involves being somewhere and trying to get to somewhere else, running into one obstacle after another. (Lately, this has morphed. I'm on a cell phone trying to call someone and the contacts list won't come up, I can't get a signal, I can't find the number, I call but nothing happens, etc. I blame Apple, for making me switch from Verizon to AT&T.) When I wake up from one of those dreams, I go back to the, for example, train station, but, this time, I decide ahead of time that there will be an "Arrivals/Departures" board that gives accurate information. When it tells me to go to Gate 8 1/2, I go there, the gate is there, the right train pulls up (and this time, it looks like the Hogwarts train, damn it; it's my dream; I don't have to take Amtrak! and Younger Self works best with strong images), I get on and easily find a seat, enjoy some scenery, and arrive safely at my destination. Someone I love is there to greet me and help me with all of my baggage (double entendre intended).

Years of practice have yielded the result that I can now, sometimes, even before waking up, realize that "I'm having that dream again. I need to pull into the gas station that has a lovely lady working behind the counter, the one whose maps always show me exactly how to get where I need to go. I should throw the old Slim Jims at Coyote, Trickster, who's hanging by the door, to divert Her, and then run into the store." Then, when I wake up, all I have to do is go back, thank the cashier, pay her a bit extra, ask her to show up the next time that I need her, hide a pack of Slim Jims near the door for next time.

I had a variation on this dream the other night.

It was snowing (and, in real life, with my little car, I HATE to drive in snow). I generally avoid it at any cost, but, in this dream, it wasn't expected to snow, yet when I leave wherever I've been, there's snow on the ground. I get in my car and begin to drive home, but it's dark and I'm having more and more trouble even seeing the road. I try blowing hard on the window, but that only fogs things up, and now I have no idea where I am or how to get home. It's pitch black; I don't even know if I'm still on the road. I decide to pull over to what feels like the side of the road, get out my GPS, and plug it in. It will make a little light and will tell me where I am and how to get home. I do pull over and now I can see that I've pulled, at a bit of an angle, into someone's driveway. It's late February; there's no more snow. I pull out my GPS and by now I can see pretty well. It's a small house, poor but respectable neighborhood, with a window in the front of the house through which I can see a beefy guy watching tv in a recliner. I plug in the GPS, program it for home, and begin to back carefully out of the driveway.

It's at this point that the guy in the window looks out and sees me. He's enraged -- in a way that doesn't surprise me, that reminds me a bit of my father and a bit of most white men in general -- that I've dared to pull into his driveway. "Hey! You! Quit pulling in here and messing up our yard and our furniture!" he screams in rage, getting up and heading for the door so he can come outside. He's furious. I say, calmly, and somehow resignedly, "I'm not messing up anything. I'm just trying to get home. Calm down. Have a nice day." I begin to drive away, but he's following me, running after me, yelling and screaming and demanding that he has the right to question me. I feel horrible; this feels too familiar, that I'm trying to fix a problem and getting yelled at for it. My nice, calm response didn't soothe the savage beast; it didn't save me.

Next, I'm running from him, through a walled alley, between buildings, out into a crossroads. He catches up with me there, I turn to face him. Looking at him, I realize he's an old guy in a grey sweater, not quite the beefy, strong guy I was so scared of. I say, "Fine. What do you want?" This is a victory for him. Meanwhile, I'm looking around and realizing that we're near a small corner market, but more or less alone on the street.

At that point, I woke up, heart pounding, still terrified, really upset. It was one of those "I need to get somewhere" dreams, I was about to work out a solution, and unjustified, raw, male anger sidelined me.

So I told myself the story a few times, got up and splashed water on my face, grounded, did some deep breathing. I suddenly realized: I met this scary person at the crossroads. That's Hecate's ground. No way I'm not the stronger party in that location; my Patroness loves me and I KNOW this territory. I may have no idea where I am, but I am never lost where three roads meet. I'm at home. Then, I paid attention to the words. Blowing hard on the window just fogged things up. This guy is a blowhard, his anger and sense of entitlement fog things up, but I can use tools to achieve clarity. I know it may sound silly, but it was at this point that I began to really calm down.

In Kissing the Limitless, Thorn Coyle suggests a technique for dealing with our demons. Fairly sure this angry guy is one of my demons, I sat in bed, grounded, and called the Elements, my allies, my Goddesses, cast a circle as I've done thousands of times in my life. I cast a double triangle in front of the circle, bound around with words of security, protection, my own "entitlement," and I summoned the demon -- both in his terrifying, beefy form and in his "real" form, a grey old guy, standing in a ratty sweater near a corner market facing me and trying to keep his image as a scary guy --into the triangle. I said, "Well, it's three in the morning, you've awakened me from a deep sleep and you've fucked up my almost-successful attempt to get myself home in the middle of one of my 'can't get where I'm going dreams.' You must have a pretty important reason for being here, something pretty important to tell me. I'm listening."

We had a decent talk, although, like most demons, this one has trouble speaking clearly, is hesitant to tell what he knows, tries to hide or misdirect, and then grudgingly gives up what he knows while still trying to appear sly. In the end, he told me what I needed to know. Next, I asked him where all of his energy came from and all that I could get was that he believes that he is entitled to it. So I thanked him and told him, "I'm going to send you back to your recliner. I want you to sit there for as long as you need to figure out how you can help me instead of terrifying me. I'd like to use all of the energy bound up in you and my fear of you. I'm sure that you and I will speak again." He left, and then I opened his triangle, thanked the Goddesses, allies, Elements. I opened my circle, lay down, and slept like a baby for five more hours.

What I still can't figure out, though, is what that corner market is all about.

(Uncannily accurate) picture found here.

Blessed Litha

Turn the Wheel.

My New Name For A Blog

What watertiger Said. Goddess, what a freaking disappointment. Still, he's likeable enough.


I'll just say this, and it will just piss everyone off, but I'm under a geis like Cassandra. For the millionth, predictable, partiarchially-determined time, people went for the cool, suddenly "likeable," younger, inexperienced guy over the mean old woman who'd paid the dues that they ( and by "they" I mean the patriarchy) always used to tell us ( and by "us," I mean women) that we had to pay to get the job.

I've seen this a million times in my career.

And the result is always the damn same.

And, so, since I'm in full "piss everyone off" mode, thanks so much to all of those young, "post-feminist" women who made fun of us old broads in our "boxy blazers" and voted for the "cool guy" sure that they, they, they were too special to need to work with "old" feminists.

I hope you're happy now.

No, I don't.

Well, Really, I Don't Mind If I Do Bug Ya.

Dude. I know that this is going to come as a shock to you, but . . .

For example, in an audio commentary I noted the blatant paganism at the 2006 games in Greece where the ancient gods were not so much depicted as curiosities of mankind’s religious history with the possibility of a few moral axioms derivable occasionally from these myths when approached as literature. Rather, adoration of these entities was approached as a viable system of belief around which humanity could draw ongoing sustain inspiration moving the world towards cultural unification.

. . . but worship of the ancient Gods and Goddesses IS a viable system of belief around [sic] which humanity can (and does) draw ongoing sustaine[ed] inspiration, moving the world towards, if not cultural unification, then peaceful coexistence.

Am I buggin' ya? I don't mean ta bug ya.

But, in the end, as is so often the case, it's really all about racism:

Though there are numerous jokes that could be made about these two, the important issue is the role guardian spirits and orcas that transform into white bears play in American Indian mythology and belief systems. From as much hoopla that is being made about so-called "native populations" of the Pacific Northwest, one would assume that not Whites lived there or at least ones that did not go around with their shoulders slouched and their heads hunched for simply being White. Since Whites pay taxes too and are less likely to be on the public dole, shouldn't they get some kind of honorable mention for contributing to the culture or at least the economy of the area?

Enjoy your long, slow, walk into extinction. Our grandchildren will no more understand your paranoia than they understand why doctors used to bleed sick people.

Yes, Yes, and, Ah, Yes!

Blessed Bloomsday to you.

From Wikipedia: Bloomsday (Irish: Lá Bhloom) is a commemoration observed annually on 16 June in Dublin and elsewhere to celebrate the life of Irish writer James Joyce and relive the events in his novel Ulysses, all of which took place on the same day in Dublin in 1904. The name derives from Leopold Bloom, the protagonist of Ulysses, and 16 June was the date of Joyce's first outing with his wife-to-be, Nora Barnacle, when they walked to the Dublin village of Ringsend.



I love flowers I’d love to have the whole place swimming in roses God of heaven there’s nothing like nature the wild mountains then the sea and the waves rushing then the beautiful country with fields of oats and wheat and all kinds of things and all the fine cattle going about that would do your heart good to see rivers and lakes and flowers all sorts of shapes and smells and colours springing up even out of the ditches primroses and violets nature it is as for them saying there’s no God I wouldn’t give a snap of my two fingers for all their learning why don’t they go and create something I often asked him atheists or whatever they call themselves go and wash the cobbles off themselves first then they go howling for the priest and they dying and why why because they’re afraid of hell on account of their bad conscience ah yes I know them well who was the first person in the universe before there was anybody that made it all who ah that they don’t know neither do I so there you are they might as well try to stop the sun from rising tomorrow the sun shines for you he said the day we were lying among the rhododendrons on Howth head in the grey tweed suit and his straw hat the day I got him to propose to me yes first I gave him the bit of seedcake out of my mouth and it was leapyear like now yes 16 years ago my God after that long kiss I near lost my breath yes he said was a flower of the mountain yes so we are flowers all a woman’s body yes that was one true thing he said in his life and the sun shines for you today yes that was why I liked him because I saw he understood or felt what a woman is and I knew I could always get round him and I gave him all the pleasure I could leading him on till he asked me to say yes and I wouldn’t answer first only looked out over the sea and the sky I was thinking of so many things he didn’t know of Mulvey and Mr Stanhope and Hester and father and old captain Groves and the sailors playing all birds fly and I say stoop and washing up dishes they called it on the pier and the sentry in front of the governors house with the thing round his white helmet poor devil half roasted and the Spanish girls laughing in their shawls and their tall combs and the auctions in the morning the Greeks and the Jews and the Arabs and the devil knows who else from all the ends of Europe and Duke street and the fowl market all clucking outside Larby Sharans and the poor donkeys slipping half asleep and the vague fellows in the cloaks asleep in the shade on the steps and the big wheels of the carts of the bulls and the old castle thousands of years old yes and those handsome Moors all in white and turbans like kings asking you to sit down in their little bit of a shop and Ronda with the old windows of the posadas glancing eyes a lattice hid for her lover to kiss the iron and the wineshops half open at night and the castanets and the night we missed the boat at Algeciras the watchman going about serene with his lamp and O that awful deepdown torrent O and the sea the sea crimson sometimes like fire and the glorious sunsets and the figtrees in the Alameda gardens yes and all the queer little streets and pink and blue and yellow houses and the rosegardens and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as a girl where I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.

Magic

And every minute of every day we bathe each other in magical words that either heal or hurt.

I don't think you can look at this full-body reaction and doubt the magic that happens when we are really seen and really heard and really spoken to.

What will you say to the next person you meet? What will you say to yourself?

/Hat tip to BG in comments at Eschaton

Picture found here.

Make A Playlist

If you made a playlist for an All-Out-Push, what songs would be on it?

Mine includes, inter alia:

Proud Mary

Simply the Best

I Am A Patriot

Defying Gravity

Gwion Bach

Magic to Do

Virginia

I Need to Wake Up

Sunday Dance Blogging

I Will Not Be Afraid Of Women

Put Me In Coach; I'm Ready To Play The Game

So only a few more precious days of longer and longer sunlight and then we reach the Solstice. At that point, will we or nill we, the days will begin to get shorter and the nights will begin to get longer and longer. After last Winter, I've especially treasured this Spring: warm days, the growing plants, the extra daylight hours to sit out on the porch and sip iced tea. Be nice to me, Summer. This ain't my first time at the rodeo.

The coming week, especially with the waxing Moon, seems like a great one to make an All-Out-Push. Go back to the goals you set at Samhein and take stock. Are you where you'd hoped to be? What could you accomplish if you gave it all you've got this week, between now and the Solstice? What if every single day this week you: did your daily practice, met your exercise goal, worked at getting your finances in order, were kinder to yourself [insert goal here]?

Yeah, of course, slow, steady, regular progress is how most things happen and it's what we all strive for. But in my world, at least, shit happens. A crunch at work means there's not time for much beyond working, sleeping, and the basics. A bad cold sends me to bed for days and, even when it's over, it takes a while to get my energy back. I get discouraged. And it's long been my experience that having a week (or even a day or an hour) devoted to the All-Out-Push is a great way to jumstart stalled goals, revitalize my practice, make enough progress to get me motivated to hang in there for the longer haul. Maybe you can't keep this pace up forever (or maybe you'll find out that, indeed, you can do a lot more than you thought you could do). But that's not the point. Just find out what it means to go all out on your promise to yourself.

What could you accomplish by the Summer Solstice if you devoted this week at an All-Out-Push?

Into The Mystic

Saturday Poetry Blogging

Novel by Arthur Rimbaud
I.

No one's serious at seventeen.
--On beautiful nights when beer and lemonade
And loud, blinding cafés are the last thing you need
--You stroll beneath green lindens on the promenade.

Lindens smell fine on fine June nights!
Sometimes the air is so sweet that you close your eyes;
The wind brings sounds--the town is near--
And carries scents of vineyards and beer. . .

II.

--Over there, framed by a branch
You can see a little patch of dark blue
Stung by a sinister star that fades
With faint quiverings, so small and white. . .

June nights! Seventeen!--Drink it in.
Sap is champagne, it goes to your head. . .
The mind wanders, you feel a kiss
On your lips, quivering like a living thing. . .

III.

The wild heart Crusoes through a thousand novels
--And when a young girl walks alluringly
Through a streetlamp's pale light, beneath the ominous shadow
Of her father's starched collar. . .

Because as she passes by, boot heels tapping,
She turns on a dime, eyes wide,
Finding you too sweet to resist. . .
--And cavatinas die on your lips.

IV.

You're in love. Off the market till August.
You're in love.--Your sonnets make Her laugh.
Your friends are gone, you're bad news.
--Then, one night, your beloved, writes. . .!

That night. . .you return to the blinding cafés;
You order beer or lemonade. . .
--No one's serious at seventeen
When lindens line the promenade.

Picture found here.

Ritual Often Enacts Story

Sounds lovely

So the young High Priestess will wear a green gown trimmed with leaves, and call the spirit of Gaia, whom the Greeks honored as the Mother of All Things. The young High Priest will wear a green vest, furry trousers, and suede boots to call the spirit of Pan, Greek God of rustic people and places.

The four classical elements, Earth, Air, Fire, and Water, will be honored. I asked Martha about the role Water will have.

Martha said the young man calling Water will talk about how our bodies are mostly water. And that the same water that is in us falls to the earth, flows into streams, and into the ocean, then back again as rain. That it connects us all.

. . .

And so, the young people of Four Winds Fellowship and anyone who wants to join them will link arms Saturday afternoon. And they will roll their bodies forward at the waist, around in a circle, as the Na’avi did when beseeching their own Goddess for aid. And the prayer will go out that we all can begin to feel the invisible cords of energy that connect all living beings. And that somehow, the hurts of Earth, Ocean and Sky can be healed.

Picture found here.

Saturday Garden Blogging

The first day lily to bloom is a Sir Mordred.

What We Envision

Dark of the Moon, new beginnings.
Dark of the Moon, plant a seed tonight.
Dark of the Moon, what we envison,
Will come to be, in the Full Moon's Light.

Let's go do magic, Witches.

Picture found here.

Midsummer Night's Eve

See as thou wast wont to see:



The young Hellen Mirren. Sweet Mother.

Pagan In The City

If you read this blog even periodically (for which, thank you!) you know that one of my themes is the need to incorporate into Paganism and Witchcraft the reality that most Pagans and Witches now live in urban areas.

A chunk of my heart -- and there's not a day goes by that I don't dream of being there, building a cabin, watching the sunlight make dappled shade among the trees -- lives in the mountains of West Virginia, but an even bigger part of my heart dances daily upon the shores of the Potomac just before it reaches the Lincoln Memorial, upon tree-covered Spout Run, upon the weeds that grow along the ramp from the GW Parkway up to the Roosevelt Bridge. I work in the city and live just outside it and I can't be a Witch only once or twice a year when I get up into the mountains. I'm a Witch every day and I'm the Witch of "this" place and that means that I need to be in relation with the natural world here. Here, among the tall buildings, metro stops, museums, cafes, fountains, statues. I'm the Nonna of a G/Son who's spent his whole life in a urban area and for whom, I truly believe, being in relationship with the natural world will be even more important than it's been for me.

So, I'm always delighted to find resources for connecting with nature within my shining city upon a swamp and a hill. Here are a few:

The Natural Capital, (a word play on The Nation's Capital) is a celebration of the wealth of nature right here under our noses in the Nation's Capital. We aim to open your eyes to the amazing plants, animals, and scenery in our region – much of it accessible by public transportation.

Natural Capital is also a concept in environmental economics: the concept that the ecosystem that sustains and surrounds us has inherent, but tragically overlooked, value. We need trees, for example, because they provide clean air and clean water. They are also beautiful, and the beauty of nature has value as well. Which brings us back to the purpose of this blog: getting outside to enjoy it all.


A DC Birding Blog is written by a birder who lived for years in DC. He currently blogs from NJ, but there's a significant bit of overlap.

Mountain Beltway got its name because [i]t turns out that a mountain belt runs right under the Beltway! The Appalachian mountain belt includes the modern-day Appalachian mountains, but also includes the hilly terrain immediately east of the mountains: the Piedmont physiographic province. Beneath these gentle hills are metamorphic rocks, granites, and a wealth of deformational structures that speak of a time when the Appalachians were young. These mountains were formed in the Paleozoic era of geologic time in a series of tectonic pulses called “orogenies.” The mountain-building culminated about 300 million years ago, when eastern North America collided with northwestern Africa. The story of how the Appalachian mountain belt got put together is a primary interest of the author of this blog. Lots of photos to help those of who who only took Geology 101.


Not specific to DC, but worth checking out if you are an urban Pagan: The Vigorous North, a field guide to inner city wilderness areas, is well-written, thorough, and explains "scientific stuff" in ways that even an amateur will find interesting.

It's not a blog, but the website of the United States Botanical Garden, smack dab in the middle of Capitol Hill, is chock full of information and events, including: Please join us for Yoga in the National Garden 8:00 a.m. to 9:00 a.m. starting June 9th and information on how to Green Your World: Big changes start with small steps – individuals, families, businesses, and governments can all make a difference in improving our planet’s potential to provide for generations to come.

One of my favorite places in DC, just a bus ride and a jaunt from the Capital Dome, is the National Arboretum. They do monthly Full Moon hikes that will warm the cockles of any Witch's heart: Four-mile-long, mildly strenuous hike through moonlit gardens, meadows and woods. Your guide will share several points of special interest and seasonal highlights. The two-hour walk over hilly and uneven terrain is more of a brisk hike than a tour so wear good walking shoes and dress for the weather. Please, no pets or children under 16. Fee: $22 ($18 FONA) Registration required. They do a lot of programs on bonsai, which can be a great way to bring a tree into your apartment, duplex, or office.

You may need either a car or bike to get there, but the DC Kenilworth Park and Aquatic Gardens are truly spectacular, especially this time of year, and are great for making you feel as if you're a million miles away from the pavement and concrete. I've been there when DC cops were just chilling during their lunch hour, trying to get away from it all for a few minutes. I've seen beaver dams and dragon flies and lotus pods as big around as five dinner plates. The website explains that: Like a time capsule from the past, one finds remnants of Washington's natural past here. There are plants that fed the local civilization for thousands of years, mink skitter on the islands in winter, and colorful summer butterflies feed on wetland plants preserved here. By preserving a part of the flood plain of the Anacostia River, Congress authorized a park that serves the public by filtering water, reducing flood damage, and preserving the biological and cultural resources that let us see from the past into the future. A haven for artists and photographers.

TR Island, within a stone's throw of the Kennedy Center, Lincoln Memorial, and Red Cross Headquarters, is one of the best places I know to disappear into nature in the middle of the city. It has several walking trails. I've seen beaver, deer, eagles, and hawks.

Rock Creek Park has a number of programs designed for kids.

National Capital Astronomers can help you to focus on what's going on in the heavens (as above, so below), including Exploring the Sky . . . an informal program that for over sixty years has offered monthly opportunities for anyone in the Washington area to see the stars and planets through telescopes from a location within the District of Columbia, which sounds great for kids. Astronomy in DC has a calendar of local events, as does DC Astronomy. Our area suffers from a lot of light pollution, but these sites can help you see the planets and stars in spite of that.

You might also check out DC Nature, Trail Voice, and Potomac River Keepers.

What resources help you connect with nature in the city?

Picture found here.

Wedensday Midsummer Night's Dream Blogging

My New Name For A Blog

What Wendell Berry Said.

In "Word and Flesh" Berry wrote, "The great obstacle is simply this: the conviction that we cannot change because we are dependent on what is wrong. But that is the addict's excuse, and we know that it will not do." Or do we? The Gulf of Mexico is currently experiencing the human equivalent of metastasizing cancer, and the governor of Louisiana proposes that the activities which resulted in that cancer be resumed immediately even as BP's underwater gusher continues to flow into the gulf. The picture that comes to mind is one of a smoker who, having had his cancerous voicebox removed, immediately resumes smoking through his tracheotomy, a permanent opening in the throat made necessary by the operation. It is a repulsive, grotesque, and yet darkly humorous image.

More, here.

Picture found here.

What Says Litha To You?

And, right on schedule, the daylilies, my Litha flower are budding like mad.

Maybe I'll serve this to my Litha gathering:

DAYLILIES STUFFED WITH ORIENTAL
CRAB SALAD
1 cup fresh bean sprouts
2 medium cucumbers, peeled, seeded and
sliced into matchstick-sized pieces
1/2 pound crab meat or crab substitute*
1 tablespoon sesame oil
2 tablespoon light soy sauce
1/2 teaspoon sugar

* Blanche the bean sprouts by dropping them in
boiling water for about a minute. Then cool nder cold running water. They should still
have a crunch.

* Combine all ingredients thoroughly and
refrigerate. You can even make the crab salad a
day in advance.

*When you are ready to serve,
spoon several tablespoons of the salad into the
center of each daylily flower. You may also top
each filled daylily with a scattering of toasted
sesame seeds or finely chopped scallions for a
more colorful presentation.

* Smaller daylily flowers require less crab
salad, so this recipe makes enough to stuff two
dozen large daylily flowers or 30 smaller
flowers.

Recipe found here.

Photo by the author; if you copy, please link back.

More Like This

Sometimes
- Sheenagh Pugh

Sometimes things don't go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don’t fail,
sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.

A people sometimes will step back from war;
elect an honest man; decide they care
enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.

Sometimes our best efforts do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen: may it happen for you.

Heck, In That Forest, I'd Have Done Him

Caledonia Is Calling Me

Someone ought to lead a tour.

Picture found here.

More Pagan Finds

The excavations in Israel continue to yield amazing Pagan finds. In addition to a stunning altar, archeologists have now found: A rare stash of more than 100 pagan worship vessels, all of them intact and dating back more than 3,500 years . . . . Among the items recovered were goblets and bowls, a vessel used for burning incense, and a cup featuring the moulded face of a woman, which would have been used for dedicating a ritual drink offering -- or libation -- to a god.

Also found were vessels from Mycenae in Greece, demonstrating eidence of trade links between the two regions.

The items may have been hidden away to keep them safe during a period of war:

The items were found at the foot of Tel Qashish -- or Tell el-Qassis in Arabic -- a Biblical city located to the east of Mount Carmel.

According to the First Book of Kings, recognised as scripture, it was at Tell el-Qassis, or close to it, that the Hebrew prophet Elijah slaughtered 450 prophets [I imagine what was meant here was priests] of the pagan god Baal.

And, I'll just add that, if you're going to capitalize "Biblical" and "First Book of Kings," and "Hebrew," then you should capitalize "Pagan" as in "pagan god Baal."

Sunday Dance Blogging

Sunday Garden Blogging

Asiatic lilies. As you get towards the center, they truly are black; the pictures don't do them justice. Heavenly scent, as well.

I Am Half Sick Of Shadows