Even If We're Just Dancing In The Dark

Matrifocus just keeps getting better and better. They've got up a great poem by Starhawk, perfect for these times.

Maenad Prophecy
by Starhawk

When kings wage unjust war,
When poison fills the skies,
When the rich prey on the poor,
When hope for justice dies

When a spell lies o’er the land,
Of malice and of lies,
Then a wild and fearless band
Of women shall arise

Crazy saints, yoginis,
Peering through the gloom,
Maenads and dakinis
Witches grab your brooms!

Sweep away the stench
Sweep away the sneers!
Sweep away the clench
Of hunger and of fears

Dance to feel the passion
Dance to wake the wild,
To honor deep compassion,
For the forest and the child,

Dance to keep the Arctic cool,
To keep the jungle green,
Dance for every holy fool,
For every wound unseen.

Dance for justice, dance for peace
Dance for life to thrive,
May beauty, health and joy increase
For every being alive

Dance in love, dance in wrath,
For chains to fall apart,
Dance to choose a better path,
Dance for strength of heart,

All across the nation,
Bankers quail and glower,
Cracked is the foundation
Of the bastions of power

Strong walls crumble,
Kings face their final hour,
An angry earth shall rumble,
Down shall fall the Tower.

And through its stones shall weave the roots
Of a living tree
That offers us its shining fruits
Of truth and liberty

Fruit to fill each empty hand
With sweet gifts of the earth
Dance to heal this bleeding land —
A new world comes to birth.


© 2008 Starhawk. All rights reserved. Starhawk wrote this piece for the Dance for Life and Regime Change, a Ritual Magic Action scheduled for Halloween night in San Francisco, 2008.

Starhawk's poem seems to me to be a partial answer to a question that Anne's asking:

So here’s the dilemma: any serious reading of the day’s financial news—just pick a day, it doesn’t really matter which—can make the average person feel [haunted with worry about the economy, wary of any conversation for fear of more bad news, eager to do something about the problem]. But when I do that, when I lift my gaze and really study the situation, I become practically incapacitated with fear and am no good for anything, least of all working to improve my financial situation.

Staying lucid in this dream—or nightmare, really—for any length of time is beyond my skill level. I can manage it for a little while, calming myself down from the shock of what is happening long enough to write more, and work more. But this is big and getting worse, and it’s only a matter of time before I slip back into shock about what is going on in the world.

Magically speaking, this is a tremendous opportunity to increase our ability to stay present in both worlds simultaneously. When I get seriously off-center, I have a few tried-and-true ways to re-center myself and carry on. What I would love to hear are all the ways the rest of you have for doing this. Because surely there are some great techniques I don’t know about, and this is the sort of time when we can all use as many good suggestions as possible.

Starhawk's suggestion:

Witches grab your brooms!

Sweep away the stench
Sweep away the sneers!
Sweep away the clench
Of hunger and of fears

Dance to feel the passion
Dance to wake the wild,
To honor deep compassion,
For the forest and the child,

Dance to keep the Arctic cool,
To keep the jungle green,
Dance for every holy fool,
For every wound unseen.

Dance for justice, dance for peace
Dance for life to thrive,
May beauty, health and joy increase
For every being alive

Dance in love, dance in wrath,
For chains to fall apart,
Dance to choose a better path,
Dance for strength of heart,

is a good one. We're witches. The times call out for magical action. Take some. Do magic for yourself and do magic for your world. I feel better every time that I do.

At times when we seem, as, Goddess knows, we do now, at an uncertain crossroads, I tend to invoke -- no surprise! -- my patron Goddess, the three-headed Goddess of the crossroads, Hecate. (Here's a really fun site that's, at least nominally, devoted to her.) She reminds me that liminal times carry as much opportunity as danger, and occasionally, she lifts a finger and points down one road or another.

I also follow Wendell Berry's good advice for times such as these:

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

— Wendell Berry

Part of what's terrifying about the present economic situation is the awareness that we can do all the "right" things (pay off debt, build up savings, set aside emergency supplies, work hard at our jobs, network, take care of health issues now while we have insurance, etc., etc., etc. -- and we definitely should be doing those things) and STILL get caught in the tsunami of layoffs, inflation, etc. That's actually true all the time; our illusions of control are just that: illusions. But the current situation makes us face that fact. As Anne notes, that makes it an excellent time to grow magically, to increase our ability to stay present in both worlds simultaneously.

And so -- you knew that I was going to say this -- I ground.

Grounding is, for me, the first step in the process of remaining present in all worlds. When fear is getting in the way of being present (you know what the Bene Gesserit witches say: I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.),I add a step to my grounding. When I've sunk my roots down very deep into Mother Earth, I begin to breathe regularly and with awareness. When I exhale, I send my fear down through my roots into the Mother, where it can be transformed. When I inhale, I pull up peace, stability, clarity. I do that until I can truly say the words of Mary Oliver's wonderful poem:

And, therefore, let the immeasurable come.
Let the unknowable touch the buckle of my spine.
Let the wind turn in the trees,
and the mystery hidden in the dirt

swing through the air.
How could I look at anything in this world
and tremble, and grip my hands over my heart?
What should I fear?

One morning
in the leafy green ocean
the honeycomb of the corn's beautiful body
is sure to be there.

From West Wind: Poems and Prose Poems, by Mary Oliver. Published by Houghton Mifflin Co., Boston. Copyright 1997 by Mary Oliver.

And when you feel like that, it's a great time to dance the dance that Starhawk calls for. Last night's full moon, was one of the brightest ever. It's power is only beginning to wane this evening. Ground. Do one practical thing to make yourself safer (put some money in savings, pay a debt, exercise, clean up and clear out junk). Ground. Do one practical thing to make our world better (recycle, take old clothes to a homeless shelter, call your Senator about an important cause, read to a child). Ground. Do some magic to insure prosperity for you and those you love. Ground. And, dance.

Dance to feel the passion
Dance to wake the wild,
To honor deep compassion,
For the forest and the child,

Dance to keep the Arctic cool,
To keep the jungle green,
Dance for every holy fool,
For every wound unseen.

Dance for justice, dance for peace
Dance for life to thrive,
May beauty, health and joy increase
For every being alive

Dance in love, dance in wrath,
For chains to fall apart,
Dance to choose a better path,
Dance for strength of heart!

Picture of Hecate found here.

The Ground Of Our Being

We each have her.

She lives inside us, smiles at us upon occasion, goads us on. She's the perfect witch, the one you want to be someday, the one who drew you to the Craft. Yours may be a bit more shamanic than mine. Mine may be a bit fussier about herbs than yours. Your friend's may live more in an estuary and spend more time on watery pursuits, while my favorite author's perfect witch may be more ceremonial than your sister's kitchen witch. Yours may wear more eye make up than mine, while mine may be more goth than your coven's Celtic medieval matron. But we all have her.

And I'm willing to bet that, whoever she is, she grounds. She may be a traveling minstrel, but she brings her home with her wherever she goes. As soon as anyone meets her, they feel safe, they feel that things are under control, they feel that growth is possible.

She may live in a garden apartment or a snug cottage or the back of her car. But it's a welcoming space and she has all her materials to hand.

Too many Pagans, IMHO, fall short of her in part, at least, because they fail to regularly ground. How are your finances? Where are your personal files? What shape is your kitchen in? What shape are you in? How grounded is your life? You got a will? You know how many months you could go w/o an income? You got a back up plan? You got your files backed up? Do you have a plan to pay off your mortgage, student loans, other financial debts? Is your living space conducive to your spiritual practice or does it war against you?

Ground.

Picture found here.

The Original Clap Harder!

Wow. I swear that if Atrios has the stupidest trolls on the internets (and, it's true, he does), then I have the smartest and most creative readers.

In response to my query about the meanings behind the story of Peter Pan and Wendy, Mahud has written a really fascinating post about similar myths. Reading his discussion, I had another of those "duh" moments: crocodile=dragon. Female. Watery. Wants to bite the man's "hand" off. Vaginia dentata.

Ina suggests that, rather than a fantasy about how men can avoid growing up, the story is really about how girls can make life work in a patriarchy. And, reminds me of some S.J. Tucker songs.

First Star on the Left and Straight on Till Morning

So tonight, I was reading Peter Pan to G/Son.

G/Son, who asks "Why" so many times a day that no one, not even a genius w an abacus, can count how many times said:

Nonna, why Peter Pan haz a short sword and Captain Hook haz a long sword?

I threw off a quick, smart-ass answer about Freud and youth and old age and heh, heh, the old man has the long sword but the young man makes better use of his short sword, but I walked away wondering:

What IS that story about? It's more than just the tale of a puer. And Wendy, forced into the role of both madonna and whore, all the while having to mediate between youth and adulthood -- who's SHE in that story?

And the crocodile, who's the hand-devouring, time-sensitive crocodile; who's that? And, most of all, why is the Nana a big dog?

Picture found here.

Sunday Trakl Blogging

Birth

These mountains: blackness, silence, and snow.
The red hunter climbs down from the forest;
Oh the mossy gaze of the wild thing.
The peace of the mother: under black firs
The sleeping hands open by themselves
When the cold moon seems ready to fall.
The birth of man. Each night
Blue water washes over the rockbase of the cliff;
The fallen angel stares at his reflection with sighs,
Something pale wakes up in a suffocating room.
The eyes
Of the stony old woman shine, two moons.
The cry of the woman in labor. The night troubles
The boy’s sleep with black wings,
With snow, which falls with ease out of the purple
clouds.

~Translated by James Wright and Robert Bly

Picture found here.

And It Ends And Begins And Begins And Ends And Begins To End And Ends To Begin. Winter Is Coming

Incense in the snow on the roses for my sister B.

Hold On

I went to sit this afternoon near one of my favorite spots along the beautiful Potomac River, the river that both flows through and brings flow to Washington, D.C. I go to this spot often and was looking forward to going there today, to allowing peace to seep through me while I was seeing the bleached-bone bodies of the beech trees and the grey waters of the wintry river.

And, whoah!

I could only stay for a few minutes and those by force of will. The magic of the place was so loud, the message so demanding, the feeling so strong: Change!

Change is coming to my beautiful city on a swamp.

The only way that I can describe the feeling is to say that the land was flowing much faster than the water, that everything is moving, moving, moving quickly along.

The Quan Yin Sisterhood

NTodd's talking about this new study, that I love, finding that -- duh -- our happiness is connected to the happiness of those around us.

[H]appiness is contagious -- and . . . people pass on their good cheer even to total strangers.

. . . "Whether you're happy depends not just on your own actions and behaviors and thoughts, but on those of people you don't even know."

I was thinking about how much it amuses me to have confirmed by science what mystics and witches have always known: we are one. It's all just god pouring god into god. That fact explains what's been fundamentally mistaken with so much of what what's been going on in America since the days of Ronald Reagan: the odd notion that I can be happy while others are suffering and homeless, the Gordon Gecko, "greed is good," I've got mine, if I'm off in my McMansion or my Esclade I'll be happy no matter what's going on in your life ethos. And, yet, surprisingly, the people in the McMansion with the steam shower and the granite counters and the wine cellar are often -- unhappy. And we wonder why that is, how that could possibly be.

If happiness is "contagious" what do you think misery is? Only connect.

Then this morning I was listening to this podcast by Thorn Coyle and Medusa. It concerns the very human need to grieve when we are confronted with death. The whole podcast is worth listening to, but beginning at about 49:25, Medusa explains an image that she received during the Loma Prieta earthquake, of the Dead being able to use the tears of the grievers as the River Styx upon which their souls must travel. She says it's difficult for us to "hold the grief of a large number of people passing. . . . It does affect all of us. It is a disturbance in the force, Luke, when a lot of people pass at the same time and it is hard for them to be grieved because there are so many of them . . . . It's important that we hold that and we try and help in that process and I don't know exactly what that looks like, but I'm aware of it." Medusa and Thorn describe how grief can crack us open and give us compassion for the whole world.

And I thought immediately of Quan Yin, the Bodhisattva/Goddess who "hears" the cries of the world. (One of the Goddesses who has visited my dreams, Quan Yin came to me as an incredibly hip older woman with a younger lover/adept when my beautiful DiL was carrying G/Son. Quan Yin, in her house built like an indoor garden, assured me that a child of compassion would be born and then I pulled the tarot card that told me he'd come a bit earlier than the doctors predicted. The universe often laughs both at and with me. I return the favor.) Com-passion -- feeling the passions of others in common with them -- doesn't necessarily mean that we "fix" another's problems. It means that we acknowledge that we have a connection with everyone else, with those who are grieving, and with those, even those now "gone," who need to be grieved. It's so important to hear, to listen, to acknowledge the tears of the whole, entire world. (It's overwhelming work, but it's important work.) I cannot be separate from you. You are not separate from me, not even in your grief. Your happiness will ribbon into my life and light it up and your grief will affect me and season the flavor of my days.

A witch's job is to help to turn the wheel. Each of us finds our own way of putting our shoulder to the wheel. Certainly, not everyone is called to the work of Quan Yin, the work that Medusa has not yet envisioned, but is aware needs doing, the grieving for strangers who pass in numbers so large that they do, in fact, cause a disturbance in the force. And yet, it is work that needs to be done.

As our planet goes through Her death throes, that work is going to need doing with increasing strength and increasing frequency. And someone must grieve for the plants, the species, the planet Her Ownself. Where will we find the professional mourners that Thorn discusses? What would their training look like? How will these doulas of the second birth sustain themselves? How must we all change our practices at Sahmein and the Winter Solstice to do this work?

Tonight, I am v happy. And that, in itself, it turns out according to science, is important work.

It's all real. It's all metaphor. There's always more.

And, speaking of disturbances in the force and large groups who need mourning . . . .

Picture found here.

We All Need A Caledonia

Any mountain's Caledonia to me. Not a day goes by that I don't long to be in them.

Happiness Is Catching

No one could have anticipated . . . .

And You Are Grounded

And then there's the grounding that you really (really!) should do before working any serious magic, whether alone or with a group. For me, this is where "big" magic begins. (There's "big" magic: I need a new job, the country needs a new president, my really sick friend needs strength, the river needs healing. And then there's the equally-important, but more frequent, magic you do on the spot w/o much oppt'y to prepare: Don't let me hit that squirrel! This e-mail will be effective. This orgasm will strengthen my rosemary. The judge will be open to my arguments. I'm casting a bit of glamour as I walk into this room.) Rule of thumb: if you made up a rhyme for it, mixed herbs for it, lit a candle for it, danced and drummed for it, did it with a reasonably large group of other people, performed the great rite for it, it was big magic.

I spend a bit more time on this big magic grounding than I do for my morning grounding or my throughout-the-day grounding.

I relax my whole body, that place near my right jaw where I almost always tense, my scalp, the soles of my feet, my belly, my sex, my earlobes. I run my roots down deep into the Earth with attention to the specific location. Gravel? Water? Leaf mold? Clay? (I've almost gotten good at grounding in clay.) Animal bones? Acorn debris? (Not for the next few years. Virginia's oak this year were bereft of acorns. No one knows why.)

I work with a group of women and, by now, I know how their roots feel, whether they're still too tense to have truly grounded or whether their roots are strong, deep, entwined with mine. This only comes, IMHO, from long and regular practice together. Who's still so tense that her monkey mind is keeping her from grounding? What will call her back to the task at hand? Who's the most relaxed tonight, the most aware, the most intense? How can I encourage other roots to entwine with hers?

It can take time to know when you're grounded enough to work magic and the stronger the magic, the more thoroughly you need to ground. If you feel weak after the magic, headachy, seriously in need of carbohydrates, too spacey, out of touch, wrapped in cotton, disoriented -- you didn't ground deeply enough, If you do effective magic and feel tired but good, you were grounded.

And you are grounded.

Photo found here.

Common Ground

Ground.

There are really (at least) two kinds of grounding. There's the grounding that you do every day as a part of your spiritual practice. This is to prepare you for the rest of your spiritual practice, to bring you into touch with Earth, one of the Five Sacred Things, to help you to face your day.

And then there's the grounding that, if your days are like mine, you do a number of times throughout the day in order to help you to cope. Walk out to the car across frosty grass, down a bit of a slope. Worry about slipping on frosty leaves in work shoes. Ground, Drive to work over big bridge, in rush-hour traffic. Ground. Walk into office and confront blinking voice mail light. Ground. Prioritize. Ground. Meet colleagues for lunch at Italian place. Ground. Get call from opposing counsel. Ground. Head home at twilight. Ground. Read tarot for a bunch of strange people. Ground.

Well, you get the idea.

Picture found here.

I have yet to meet the situation which could not be improved by grounding. YMMV

Milk of Human Kindness

Maybe there are things that each of us, dead, might prefer to hear said about us. I don't know what they would be.

I stand here today: a priestess, a Pagan, a woman who loves men, women, and transpeople, a twin-spirit, a nerd, a bibliophile, a polyphile, a dancer, a poet, an activist, someone who feels weak and someone who feels strong... Harvey, my closet doors are so wide open, they are yawning, sometimes. People like you have helped me in my quest for honesty and I'm glad to count you among my ancestors of spirit. We chanted your name during the candlelight AIDS marches in the '80s. We have named LGBT centers after you. You and George were ever in our minds. The party continues, as does the work against hate.

Thorn has more, here about the movie Milk, which is getting excellent reviews.

All acts of love and pleasure are rituals of the Goddess.

(Of course, Milk asserted that all "men" are created equal. Fuck that shit.)

Picture found here.

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.

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.

Merci!

Photo found here.

Sunday Trakl Blogging

Song of The Western Countries

Oh the nighttime beating of the soul’s wings:
Herders of sheep once, we walked along the forests
that were growing dark,
And the red deer, the green flower and the speaking
river followed us
In humility. Oh the old old note of the cricket,
Blood blooming on the altarstone,
And the cry of the lonely bird over the green silence
of the pool.

And you Crusades, and glowing punishment
Of the flesh, purple fruits that fell to earth
In the garden at dusk, where young and holy men
walked,
Enlisted men of war now, waking up out of wounds
and dreams about stars.
Oh the soft cornflowers of the night.

And you long ages of tranquillity and golden
harvests,
When as peaceful monks we pressed out the purple
grapes;
And around us the hill and forest shone strangely.
The hunts for wild beasts, the castles, and at night,
the rest,
When man in his room sat thinking justice,
And in noiseless prayer fought for the living head
of God.

And this bitter hour of defeat,
When we behold a stony face in the black waters.
But radiating light, the lovers lift their silver eyelids:
They are one body. Incense streams from rose-
colored pillows
And the sweet song of those risen from the dead.

~Translated by James Wright and Robert Bly

Photo found here.

Shopping Within Your Watershed

NTodd and I discuss the importance of Buy Nothing Day.


Photo by the author. A lake in Vermont near NTodd's and Ericka's cabin.

Only Ground

At our recent planning meeting, I agreed to put together some information for my wonderful circle of amazing women on grounding. So I've been thinking quite a bit, lately about grounding.

I had some difficult medical tests to get through this week (all turned out v, v well) and, throughout the procedure, I was worried, uncomfortable, angry, scared. What I kept doing, over and over throughout each step of the procedure, was to ground. The first reason was because, that was about as much magic as I could muster under those circumstances and the second reason was because, grounding works. It reminds me, on a cellular level, that I'm going to be OK, no matter what happens. And that, of course, allows me to respond as a witch, to realize that there's room for me to choose how to respond to, handle, create new possibilities within, change consciousness at will in response to whatever the medical procedure entails, discovers, produces. As Mary Oliver said in her lovely poem about corn growing:

let the immeasurable come.
Let the unknowable touch the buckle of my spine.
Let the wind turn in the trees,
and the mystery hidden in the dirt

swing through the air.
How could I look at anything in this world
and tremble, and grip my hands over my heart?
What should I fear?

One morning
in the leafy green ocean
the honeycomb of the corn's beautiful body
is sure to be there.

That's what grounding does for me.

The first several hundred times that I grounded, I would say to myself, "I'm not really grounding. I don't really have roots that can grow into the ground and hold me to Mother Earth. I'm just imagining, no, I'm just pretending. This isn't witchcraft. I'm not a real witch. This can't be what they're talking about. I must be doing it wrong. I'm not a good witch; I don't know what I'm doing; this is messed up. I should stop. I should stop doing it wrong and figure out how to do it right, find a good teacher, regroup, stop."

But I would just keep on "acting as if." "Acting as if" is highly magical technique. I didn't know that, then, but I know it now. I would just keep acting as if I really did have roots, they really did grow into the ground and spread out, anchoring me. As if I really did absorb strength from the Earth through my roots, as if I really could breathe out toxins and tensions and troubles through my roots into the Earth where they could be transformed. As if I really did have branches that reached up into the night skies, towards the moon, into the stars, absorbing energy from those sources. As if I really were, really, at the center of the crossroads of all possibilities.

And, wherever you go (and go, and go, and go), there you are.

Only ground.

Picture found here.

Helpless Heart

All I Want For Yule Is . . . .

How on Earth did no one think of this before?

Hat tip: Esoteric Book Review

(You have to click the link for Tarot and then select Transparent Tarot.)


Image found here.

How To Behave In A Crisis

Byron Ballard has a brilliant article up at Witchvox about what to do in extremis:

Go outside and activate the spirits of the land on which you live. This can happen in a backyard, in a woodland temple, on the balcony of your high-rise apartment. Feed them (I give mine milk, corn liquor, cheap bright candy) and honor them and talk to them. And it’s best to do this when you aren’t in a crisis, so that they know you. It is always a good idea to build a relationship before you go asking for favors, don‘t you think? Ask the spirit of that maple tree, or that rock or that hill to be with you in your hour of need. Ask them to guide and inspire you, to support you and to be your friend on the other plane.

Then come inside and clean off your home altar, the primary one. Dust the table, put on a clean cloth, make an effort to set up this beautiful focal point, , this place between the worlds where you will petition the gods. Burn some incense, add some flowers, whatever you do to make it fresh. My advice is to work directly with your own gods, the ones you honor all the time. If you are dedicated to Artemis, ask her to stand with you, to show you what you need to see. You don’t need to go to Brigid for healing if you don’t have a relationship with her. Go first to your matrons, tell them the story, ask for help, ask for blessings.

Next, set up an Ancestor altar and actively engage your Ancestors. Your actual Ancestors--your mom or great-uncle or your older sister who died when you were ten. Feed them, honor them and be very clear about how important they are to you and how much you need their help.

Now look at your life--what do you need? To banish something? To call something to you? Do you need to stand under a full moon and say the most important prayer--“thank you”? If you need to create a ritual of thanksgiving, then do it. Make it pure and simple. Get a babysitter, if you need to. Fling yourself before your altar, if that feels right.

Does your need require a spell? Then do one. Don’t spend days researching the books of spells or Google-ing your request. Just do it. Make it up as you go along. Check the phase of the moon, and out of your need and your love, create a spell and do it. Raise a circle of pure energy and do it.

Do all these things and do them all again, if need be. Clarify your need and request for yourself and for your helpers both seen and unseen. And if nothing changes, consult an astrologer, get a tarot or rune reading, and try to figure out why this is happening to you now. Why again? Is there a lesson you need to be heeding? Are you facing the same challenges again and again? Why? What lesson are you not learning? And why not?

Many books have been written about daily spiritual practice, most of it from the Christian traditions. When tragedy--or merely drama--strikes, they have recourse to heavy-duty praying, just as we do. But if they--and we--have cultivated a clear series of steps to get grounded and feel our connection to the Divines, it can make those scary times a little less stressful..

Start the morning by grounding yourself and finish your day by looking at the moon and saying your prayers. There is comfort there and connection.