Why Did You Do That?

I've gone on and on and on about the need for Pagans to be prepared before they speak to the media. I'm really encouraged to see a recent
trend of Pagans engaging in some self-reflective criticism of their media appearances. That can only help the rest of the community. Rather than repeat the points that I've made many times before, let me emphasize a few maybe-more-subtle points.

First, the reporter from your local paper or tv station doesn't have a contacts list full of prominent Pagans. Really. As in, they may never have heard of Starhawk. If you were listed as the contact person for last Fall's Pagan Pride Day or if your name shows up in a Google search for, say, "D.C. Pagans," then there's a chance you may get a phone call when a local cemetery is desecrated or there's a controversy over putting a pentacle on town hall grounds along with a Christian nativity scene. So it's a good idea to decide ahead of time, aka, now how you want to respond to a phone call asking you for an interview.

Second, when making that decision, here are just a few questions you can consider. Are you a good public speaker? Are you willing to do the preparation required (often on short notice) for a media appearance? What would you wear for that interview (this will be determined by your answer to the question: Which objectives of yours will an interview meet)? Where will you insist that the interview be conducted and are you prepared to set up, for example, your altar, desk, book display wherever? Are you willing to develop a basic handout with information about yourself ("Willa Witch is a member of a Celtic Reconstructionist coven in Our Town. She is a nurse practitioner and a graduate of Our Town U, where she received her MS in Nursing. Willa lives with her family in an historic home in Our Town, originally built by her great grandfather, William Witch. She can be reached at wandawitch@internet.net.") Have you developed a short (two or three sentence) statement (for yourself) of your own objectives that you can consult when approached by the media? This can be crucial in helping you to decide whether or not to talk to this reporter on this topic. It's always OK to say, "Thank you for the request, but I'm not interested." If you can, you may always add, "Let me refer you to X, who is an expert on this topic." (This is followed up with an email to X telling hir, "I just got a call from media person Y looking for an interview on topic Z. I referred hir to you. Please let me know if you have any questions.")

Third, and this is the point I want to emphasize, it is completely OK -- and quite important -- for you to ask the reporter questions and to negotiate the terms of the interview. Really. They'll complain, but they'll respect you far more in the morning. Trust me. Most Pagans have, as have most Americans, little experience in dealing directly with members of the media. The reporter calling you, on the other hand, deals with people like you every day. The reporter knows that those people are flustered, flattered, eager to help, and already imagining themselves calling their mom to tell her to watch them on the evening news.

In other words, there's a big power differential here, something with which Witches and magic workers are, if they'll stop for a moment and think about it, familiar. We have techniques for dealing with that. In the case of dealing with the media, those techniques involve beginning to even out the disparity. Keep in mind that your ultimate power is the power to say, "No thanks," which will send the reporter back to Google and under even more time pressure. Don't imagine that if you don't talk to the reporter, no Pagan will. If they want a Pagan, they'll find one. The entire burden of representing modern Pagandom is not entirely upon your shoulders. Honest. At the very least, say you'll call back in 10 minutes. Ground and center. Consult Tarot. Find that still, quiet point within you that does not need media attention to be important. Call back acting from your power.

Ask the reporter about hir background in religion, reporting on Paganism, interest in esoteric subjects, etc. Can they send you links to other articles they've written/interviews they've done? This might, as Markarios pointed out in comments to one of my earlier posts, have been helpful to Star, when she was asked to appear before a phalanx of ultra-Christian interviewers. Most of them have done other interviews and have enough of an on-line presence to give an indication of their biases. There's no reason to walk into the arena unaware of who's asking you to go there. And there's no reason to take on insurmountable odds. (See also the excellent comments by Medusa and Teacats.)

If they're calling you because of a recent incident, get enough information about that incident to determine whether you have anything worthwhile to add. This would have been helpful to Rev. Heron, who, when she was interviewed:

was not told that the person was a Santero, or the nature of what [the police found, allegedly human remains, during a search of a home], only that there were "occult or pagan symbols" associated with an arrest, and that they were seeking someone with knowledge of the occult. The footage that you saw of me seeing the photos was my first glance at the photo evidence. I did not claim to be an expert on anything, and only agreed to be interviewed so that I could MAYBE shed some non-freakout light over the situation, whatever it was.

To emphasize, when told that she was to be interviewed about occult or Pagan symbols associated with an arrest, Rev. Heron could have said, "I'm unfamiliar with this incident. If you'll send me a few links, I'll call you back in 15 minutes and tell you whether I think I can do an interview or if I can refer you to someone who can." When she realized that the incident involved a Pagan religion with which she was unfamiliar, Rev. Heron could have said, "Sorry. Interviewing me about that would be like interviewing a Baptist about a Catholic rite. I'm not qualified to discuss that." If she had a good referral, she could have offered it. THAT'S OK. You don't have to talk to every reporter who calls you.

You can (and should) also negotiate whether you'll get a transcript of the interview, whether you'll get editing rights, etc. Even when appearing remotely, as Star was, you can negotiate over whether they'll film you in a studio or your home. And you should always say that you plan to tape the interview yourself on your own handheld tape recorder. If you don't have one, you're not ready to do the interview. If the reporter objects, you don't want to deal with hir. Say, "Sorry, I'd prefer not to do this interview. Thanks for calling me. Have a very nice day." Having your own record of the interview will, at the very least, allow you to post your own accurate version of the conversation and to demand corrections for blatant misquotes. I've never known a credible reporter to object to this negotiation point. All you're saying is you will make an recording of the interview. If the reporter is uncomfortable about that, you need to ask yourself why.

Even in the middle of the interview, it's ok to say, "I don't know enough about this topic to answer your question." You can add that you'll be happy to get back to the reporter after you've done some research or if you can locate a person who is an expert, but it's not the case that your only choice is to say, "No comment" or to try and answer a question that you're not ready to answer. Saying, "No comment," can sound defensive, but saying, "I don't know enough about this topic to answer your question," is always an option and can only make you look honest and sincere. When talking to the media, you need to be constantly aware that if you answer a question by saying, "I'm not really an expert on this subject, but my best guess is that . . . ." your disclaimer is likely to get cut off and all that you'll see on the evening news is your speculation. That's why it's important to say, "I don't know enough about this topic to answer your question," and to then shut up and wait for the next question. You can practice this over and over with a friend who has video on hir iPhone. And you should. Get comfortable with the practice of allowing even several minutes of silence to pass; if you can't do this, you shouldn't be doing interviews. Letting silence build up is a reporter's most basic tool for getting you to start blathering.

Finally, while there is a difference between lobbying and speaking to the media, I think that the points that Literata makes here concerning the need for preparation when lobbying can be applied, pretty easily, to talking to the media. Her experience is definitely worth a read.

I'm going to keep posting about this topic because it matters. (And because, apparently, my frequent posts on framing aren't getting through. Check the final paragraph of this article.)

Picture found here

Where I Stand

There's something incredibly comforting to me, as a lawyer, about seeing your opponent unable -- finally -- to hide hir objective. I welcome what's happened all day today in DC as Republicans have made clear that, no, preventing abortion is NOT their main goal. Their main goal is hurting women. Women who've been daring for decades now to not act as second-class citizens. In their world, that MUST be punished. In mine, it MUST go on. Come on out in the open, my enemy. Come on out into the light.

hat tip/ Thorn Coyle on Twitter.

Staying in One Place

I have friends who are world travelers; there's so much that's wonderful about ranging all over this perfect planet and experiencing as much of it as possible. I used to wish that I were a better traveler, that I'd managed to travel to more places, that I enjoyed travel as much as I enjoy hearing about my friends' expeditions. And, then, finally, in my forties, I realized that, with the defenses that travel requires my boundary-challenged Sun in Pisces to maintain, and with my Moon in lazy-comfort-loving Taurus, I'm never going to be much of a traveler and that's just going to have to be ok this incarnation.

There are also many rewards of staying in one place, and I've been thinking about one of those this Spring. When you live in one place for a number of years, you develop a relationship with that place. I've lived in this tiny cottage for almost eight years, and nearly all of the plants here are ones that I put into the ground myself. When the snowdrops show up in February, I think that I have a glimmer of understanding of the statement that those who had experienced the Eleusinian Mysteries had no fear of death. It's as if the very ground beneath my feet conspired to send up tiny white messages to me saying, "We will keep our pact. Winter will not last forever. All that dies is reborn." And I breathe in, and I breathe out, and my very being expands a little into the sunlight and down into the warming soil, the soil full of the roots of plants that I have planted.

I had another reminder yesterday when I caught a glimpse of my beloved, old brown rabbit. I absolutely did not expect her to survive the Winter, but there she was, and I know that it's her by that big chunk missing from her ear. Miracle of miracles, the local hawk didn't get her, and my fox didn't sup on her, and the cold and hunger didn't do her in. She's long in the haunch, but still able to show up and enjoy the newly-mown grass and, unless I miss my guess, she's managed one last priestessing of Great Rite and is now gravid with the results.

And immediately I am in that place that we Witches call "Between the World," although, for me, it's often more a case of being "Deep Within This World, The One That's Crammed With Mystical Myst." All Winter while I huddled inside, not wanting to slip and re-break the old ankle -- while I bundled up in sweaters, socks, afghans, and gloves, while I lit fires and glanced out at early sunsets, and fed myself with soups and stews -- all that time my dear friend was cowering inside her form, slowly burning the carrot tops I'd given her and waiting, as I waited, for Spring. And then, one old woman setting an example for another, she emerged as soon as possible and gave herself to the Great Rite, as simply as I give myself to the task of starting seedlings, of clearing the herb bed for new seedlings, of cleaning my altar for Spring. Well, really, her surrender to Life is larger and more unstinting than mine -- and she and I both know that. And this morning, adding my coffee grounds to the soil around the Kleim's Hardy Gardenia jasminoides, I scan the yard for her, grateful to have lived here long enough to have received her lesson of participation and surrender. I am who I am because I am in relationship with her. She is who she is because she allows herself to be fed by me. We are both who we are because our roots are here, in this bit of Earth. She is the old rabbit of this place; I am the Witch of this place. We are both each other.

Picture found here.

Like a Tree

Adding Like a Tree by Jean Shinoda Bolen to my "must read" list.

hat tip: Weiser Books

Spell of the Sensous

It's As If He Wants to Lose

On, Wisconsin!

Yesterday, it was sunny and warm here in Columbia's district and I raced home from work, past the beautiful Potomac and the fey-thronged Spout Run, to sit in my woodland garden and on my porch. One of my friends who's been center-front in the struggle for workers' rights in Wisconsin called me on his cell phone so I could hear the crowd around Jesse Jackson singing Amazing Grace. We had a great chat (he, on the front lines and I on my porch, mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa) and then I went to my ritual room and lit incense for today's election. I'm so proud of D and S and R and J and all of my other friends in Wisconsin. I feel gifted to know them.

I had a "complicated" relationship with my dad, who, much as he wanted to be a man of words, was seldom able to articulate why he loved the things that he loved. And that made him (inexplicably, to a kid) angry. I was sitting directly behind him, in the family station wagon, when the radio announced that Dr. King had been killed advocating the rights of union workers. My dad, who spent his life in the union movement, slumped in the front seat and then yelled at me for something; I don't remember what. What I do remember was knowing that he felt an unrecoverable loss at that moment. I think he understood why it was that Dr. King could challenge almost anything except the refusal to pay Americans a living wage. One of my most treasured pictures is one of him -- a few days later, trying hard to recover himself, outside a neon-sign Memphis church -- taken when he went to cover Dr. King's funeral for his union. Whenever I'm tempted to be angry at him for the way that he raised me, I remember that picture and focus on what was great about him. He came from almost nothing and spent a lot of his life doing what he could for the highest cause he'd found. I don't think that cause was fathering a feminist, but that's (many years later, after a lot of shadow work, turned out to be kind of) ok.

So maybe it's understandable that this video, which brings together my present and my past, through the lens of my dad and my friends, makes me cry.

When I grew up and moved away from home, one of the few ways that my dad and I managed to connect was through my critiques of his writing (and his grudging support of mine). He was still editing a lot of union magazines and newsletters at that point, and I kept pushing him to make them less sexist. (Me: Dad, would this joke be funny if it were about black people? Dad: Well, no. Me: Ok, then why is it funny about women? Dad: OK, you write a better joke. Me: OK . . . .) So the irony of the sexist signs carried in this video, often above a logo that Dad designed, isn't lost on me.

To balance that, and just for my dad, who would have cried at reading it, I'll add this:

Well, children, where there is so much racket there must be something out of kilter. I think that 'twixt the negroes of the South and the women at the North, all talking about rights, the white men will be in a fix pretty soon. But what's all this here talking about?
That man over there says that women need to be helped into carriages, and lifted over ditches, and to have the best place everywhere. Nobody ever helps me into carriages, or over mud-puddles, or gives me any best place! And ain't I a woman? Look at me! Look at my arm! I have ploughed and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me! And ain't I a woman? I could work as much and eat as much as a man - when I could get it - and bear the lash as well! And ain't I a woman? I have borne thirteen children, and seen most all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my mother's grief, none but Jesus heard me! And ain't I a woman? ~S. Truth

Women and men need a victory tonight in Wisconsin.

hat tip/ First Draft

Tuesday Poetry Blogging

To a Skylark
~Wm. Wordsworth

Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky!
Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound?
Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye
Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground?
Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will,
Those quivering wings composed, that music still!

Leave to the nightingale her shady wood;
A privacy of glorious light is thine;
Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood
Of harmony, with instinct more divine;
Type of the wise who soar, but never roam;
True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home!

Listening to the Land

In the district dedicated to Columbia, the weather can turn on a dime. (OK, you have to go back to the 1800s to find Columbia on a dime and, even then, she's called by her nickname: Freedom. But you know what I mean.) Just last week, I was out in the bitter cold, covering up tender plants; today we had sunny weather and temps in the 80s. I've known it to pretty much skip Spring weather here and go directly from Winter to Summer.

Today's sun and warmth have literally been working magic on my tiny bit of Earth. Jack-in-the-pulpits that were not there yesterday evening when I took Hecate's deipnon out to the altar are now several inches high. My neighbor's deciduous magnolia is a waving magnificence of creamy pink. The tiny horns of hosta have poked through the Earth, looking for all the world like an invasion of some underground alien species.

I've known Witches who don't feel the need for a daily practice, but I find that I really need one. And a big part of my practice is communing with my bit of Earth, with Spout Run and the Potomac River, with my landbase and watershed. I need to be in touch with them to help me understand who I am. Because I am not separate from them. I am all wrapped up in the water level of the Potomac, the migrating birds hanging out on the Three Sisters as the sculling teams from Georgetown skim by. A part of who I am is the day upon which the fiddleheads (today, in the sunnier spots!) emerge from the soil and begin to gently dance open, a reverse Spiral Dance that moves within my own soul as much as it moves out in the woodland garden. I find out how trustworthy and gentle I am from the squirrels, and peanut-eating crows, and bluejays; I learn how much I truly believe in both the light and the dark when I watch the giant hawk perusing the morning doves at my feeder the way a hungry teen eyes the all-you-can-eat buffet. I need my fox to show up once in a while to re-enchant my garden. My own health is somehow bound up in the health of "my" homeless vet at the TR Bridge. And the weather that moves through Columbia's district moves through my moods and into my thoughts.

What speaks most to you in your landbase? How do you connect with it? How have you learned to listen to yourself by listening to it? If not today, when?

Invoking Air.

Video clips at Ustream
How does this change us? How does it change the eagles? How does it change the very element of Air, itself?

I know that I will never invoke it in exactly the same way, ever again.

I sent the link to G/Son via email.

Mercury may be retrograde, but this is v cool.

Sunday Ballet Blogging

Hail, Kore!

(Almost) 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 heca tedemet ersdat ter@ hotm ail.c om. 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. I'll email you back your reading.

I Have So Had It With the Patriarchy Today

Know who's really an asshole? The unseen, male (of course) voice telling this woman to "take a minute and collect" herself because it's an "emotional" topic. I am willing to bet no man in the history of this body has been instructed to do the same thing. Fuck you. Let her talk. Her emotions aren't going to kill you or make your dick fall off.

Sexism. We're soaking in it.

hat tip: watertiger.

Views Unfold Along Paths

Views unfold along paths. A common pond shape in Japanese gardens, for example, is roughly in the shape of the character for "heart." There are few places along the shore where the entire pond's edge can be seen, because of the way that land intrudes. Thus with each step along the path, hidden views are revealed, and other views hidden. This "concealing and revealing" technique is one way to make small spaces seem larger, since there are always new views to see. Going up and down along topography does the same thing, since it generally forces you to look down for most of the time. Then when you reach the top or the bottom, a view can spread out before you as a little surprise. The gaze, which has been down, is suddenly open to something elementally beautiful, like sunlight on a rose.

~Landscape as Spirit: Creating a Contemplative Garden by Mosko, A. & A. Noden

It seems to me that much the same could be written about daily practice.

Picture found here.

Witch's Bottle

hat tip to Teacats in comments.

Other episodes at YouTube

Tuesday Poetry Blogging

Since There Is No Escape
~Sara Teasdale

Since there is no escape, since at the end
My body will be utterly destroyed,
This hand I love as I have loved a friend,
This body I tended, wept with and enjoyed;
Since there is no escape even for me
Who love life with a love too sharp to bear:
The scent of orchards in the rain, the sea
And hours alone too still and sure for prayer—
Since darkness waits for me, then all the more
Let me go down as waves sweep to the shore
In pride, and let me sing with my last breath;
In these few hours of light I lift my head;
Life is my lover—I shall leave the dead
If there is any way to baffle death.

Picture found here.

Carnegie Hall

Here's a fascinating post by Star, from the Pagan "portal" at Patheos.com, concerning her recent experience being interviewed about Paganism by a certainly-less-than-friendly panel.

Let me start by saying that, as someone who frequently critiques Pagans who talk to the media, I'd give Star an unqualifed A on her performance. I think she does a pretty good job holding her own against four people who are clearly less-than-friendly to her cause. She certainly avoids the all-too-common mistake of starting off defensive and announcing, unasked, that Witches don't eat babies or kiss Satan's ass. And I think that Star does the entire Pagan community a real service by being willing to engage in some reflective self-criticism about her media performance, something that T. Thorn Coyle has also show herself v willing to do.

Star notes that perhaps she should have better understood the purpose of the interview and better considered whether or not to appear on this venue:

Having been to Jason Pitzl-Water’s talks I’m quite aware that there are times when you shouldn’t speak to the media. If you don’t have a genuine need, why risk having your words twisted? Even so, I agreed to do an interview that I feel may have been a mistake. I have a great deal of respect and love for Elizabeth Scalia, managing editor of our Catholic portal and famously known as The Anchoress. When she asked me to be on a cable show she is a frequent guest host on, I said “Of course!”

Maybe that wasn’t the wisest thing to do. I don’t know. I know the producer told me “‘Pagans, Wicca, Santeria & Voodoo’ is the topic for this half hour show.” [At that point, it would have been a good idea to ask, "And who will be on to talk about Santeria and Voodoo?" When the answer was, "Well, you," that would have been a good time to bow out.] That didn’t exactly jive with the topic I heard announced once we started recording. As the host announced the topic warning bells started to sound in my head. I had visions of a Jerry Springer Halloween special, complete with antagonistic Christians and Pagans getting in catfights and eerie warnings of the dangers of occultists. I felt they wanted an “occult expert” rather than an actual Pagan, and in those few seconds decided that wasn’t going to be how this was going down.

Again, I think that Star did a very good job of managing this experience. I especially want to commend her for her handling of the whole, "Do you call demons?" nonsense. (Honestly, could we please make 2011 the year when all Pagans agree to simply say, "Satanism, which focuses on two Christian entities, Satan and Jehovah -- in whom Pagans don't even believe -- is a branch of Christianity. Please start asking every Christian you interview whether they are Satanists"?) Star's got lots of facts and figures at hand and does a good job of discussing her own experience as a former Christian. She makes good points about the attraction of Paganism to women.

To echo a point that Star makes, I've said over and over that the first question that you need to ask yourself is how doing this interview with this segment of the media will serve your own objectives (which you, maybe not so obviously, need to be clear about before you even consider talking to the media). I'm not sure what Star's objective was, other than to be nice to Ms. Scalia, whom she perceives as her friend. If you don't have a clear answer to that question, maybe you don't need to talk to these people at all. Maybe some other Pagan should talk to them or maybe they don't deserve any Pagan participation at all. (I've been begging Democrats for years to just quit treating Fox as if it were a legitimate news organization. Just stop talking to them. (There's a reason why George W. Bush never did an interview with Bill Moyers.) I think that's what this panel, regardless of how much Star may imagine that Ms. Scalia is her friend, deserved as well.) Really, not one Pagan person on the panel? Really? Warning bells, just saying.

There's an odd notion in our society that talking to the media is cool, that it makes you important, that, of course, you should do it every chance that you get. In America, being on tv is supposed to somehow make you "real." That's what the media want you to think. But you need to approach the media with your own objectives clearly in mind. Will this interaction promote your book or event, or give you an opportunity to make your main point (e.g. Druids worship Nature, Pagans have a proud past, Pagans contribute to our community, etc.)? (Still not sure what Star's overarching point was. She seemed to be mostly reactive here.)

I think that Star's experience illustrates another point that I've made before. If you do decide that you can use an experience with the media to achieve your own goals, then you need to do a lot of practicing beforehand. Here's one example. Star gives really good, but generally nuanced and lengthy, answers to each question that she's asked. But she lets herself get interrupted over and over again. Especially for women in our society, being interrupted is a land-mine. If you talk over the interruption, you may be perceived as "too aggressive." If, as Star almost always does, you stop talking when you get interrupted, you come across as weak and you fail to control the message. (If you watch, almost every time that Star begins to score some points, one of the panelists interrupts her or the host (and, Mother, this is shallow, but who put that woman on a camera in that shirt?) calls for a "break," as if this show has a million commercial sponsors.) My firm pays a communications consultant to come in every year and work with lawyers and one of the skills that I've worked on for a number of years is being able to deal with interruptions. I'm still working on it. But it's something that you can practice for an hour or so before a media interview, even with a friend who has a iPhone with video. Just learning to say, "Let me finish," or "Please don't interrupt, I'd like to finish my point," can make you much more effective. Most Pagans aren't going to be interviewed enough times to learn on the job. Hence, you must learn during practice sessions.

Let me just list a few other points:

(1) This interview is 4 on 1. Those are ridiculous odds. I'd really hesitate before letting even a massively-prepared client face those odds. I've allowed it (ie, couldn't stop it) a time or two in group depositions, but you can't imagine how thoroughly prepped my clients were. On hearing those odds, 99.9% of all Pagans should decline the interview.

(2) Note the use of negative language in the beginning of the interview: "dabble" into Paganism (thanks Christine!) and "play" with Ouija boards. Doubt that converts to Catholicism would be described in those terms. Later there's a reference to "drifting" into Paganism. That's a perfect opportunity to bail. At that point, it's clear that this "interview" is rigged. Say, "I'm sorry; this isn't the interview I expected. I won't be participating." Take off the headphones and cut the Skype connection. The worst that will happen is that they'll show you saying and doing that and that won't hurt you.

(3) This is a subtle point, but all of the 4 interviewers are sitting around table, together, while Star is off somewhere else, on a Skype connection, wearing big headphones. Guess who looks weird and is the odd-person-out? Guess who doesn't see the signaling between the other four people? Again, find out ahead of time what the interview is going to entail and seriously consider your experience at handling that kind of situation. The situation here would challenge even a media-savvy, experienced person. Star may work in the media, but it's a whole different story when you're on the other side of the microphone. I've done depositions, but I'd demand a whole lot of preparation from my lawyer before I'd have my deposition taken (Bill Clinton, I'm looking at you.)

(4) And, this may seem artificial to you, but look at the other participants. The host is professionally made up and coiffed and wearing (what is supposed to pass for; sorry I'm a snob) a designer shirt. The other interviewers are wearing either jackets or a clerical collar -- all symbols of professionalism and authority in our society. Star, bless her heart, shows up in a do-rag, gigantic earphones, and off lighting. In the sub-verbal battle for credibility, guess who is at a disadvantage? I get that Pagans don't like this; that we believe that you should be able to wear whatever you want and that appearances shouldn't count against you. And, in a perfect world, I'd agree 100%. But imagine yourself as Mr. or Ms. Average American and ask yourself who in that interview starts off at an advantage and who starts off at a disadvantage, before anyone utters a single word. How would the interview have been different if Star had insisted on showing up at a well-lit studio, in front of a real camera and not wearing headphones, being professionally made up, and wearing a suit, even with a pentagram on a chain? What if she'd insisted on providing the pictures flashed at random during the interview or having editing authority over the crawl?

(5) As I've said before, insist on making your own recording of the interview. You can negotiate this and other points ahead of time. If they're not willing to make reasonable accommodations for you, bells should start going off and you should seriously consider not doing the interview.

Kudos to Star for being willing to criticize her own performance. I'm going to keep harping on this stuff because it matters.

Hat tip: The Wild Hunt

Picture found here.

Get a Lawyer

Here's a thoughtful, well-written article about religious discrimination against a woman, Carole Smith, due to the fact that she's a Wiccan. If you watch the included video interview with Ms. Smith, you'll see that she does a pretty good job handling the media interview. This is one of those rare cases where it, sadly, is necessary to deal, head-on, with the notion that Witches run around casting evil spells on people, as Ms. Smith was apparently fired, at least inter alia, due to a co-worker's complaint that Ms. Smith cast a spell on her car and made its heater malfunction. (I discussed another such instance here, where Katrina Messenger also did a good job managing the topic.) I think Ms. Smith does a good job and then skillfully turns the conversation around to what Wiccans do believe in a very positive way.

I don't think that I've ever said this before, in all my discussions about how Wiccans should deal with the media, but I want to make sure that I say it now, loud and clear. In any kind of legal situation (and the article explains that Ms. Smith is planning to appeal a negative ruling by an administrative law judge), for the love of the Goddess, please get legal advice early and certainly get it before you talk to the media. Until you get clearance from your lawyer, do not say one word to the media, no matter how earnest, helpful, and decent their representative may seem. As a layperson you've got no idea (no, trust me, you really don't) what innocent thing you're going to say that will hurt your case. Heck, I'm a lawyer and, because I don't practice employment law, I'm not qualified to judge what Ms. Smith may or may not have said that will hurt her case. Nor whether even doing such an interview was helpful or not. But I can guarantee you that, come Ms. Smith's appeal, the employer's attorney will go through her interview with a fine tooth comb and use it against her. To be clear, Carole Smith needed a lawyer from the minute that her boss suggested that she go into a mediation session to "explain" her religion to the complaining co-worker. The correct response would have been, "Thank you for suggesting that. I'd like to think about your suggestion for a day or two and get back to you," and to then make a mad dash for a lawyer. That would be true even if Ms. Smith, herself, were a lawyer. There's an old saying in the law about a lawyer who represents hirself. It's an old saying for a reason.

I'll also say that this case is yet another reason why I'm less than 100% enthused about "Out Yourself as Pagan Day." Ms. Smith was a new, probationary employee. She told at least one person on her job that she was Wiccan. I don't know why she told them, or in what context, but what happened to her is a good example of why many people choose to stay in the broom closet at work. I understand all the good reasons for people to come out of the broom closet, but, in today's employment market, there are real dangers to discussing your personal life, including your religion, with other people. And it's generally not necessary. Even a direct question, "What religion are you?" doesn't warrant a direct response (nor does any question that seeks personal information). A simple, "Well, I have a deep respect for nature," or, even better, "I really consider that a personal subject," works just as well. Whether, and when, to come out at work is a personal decision. People should make it carefully.

Beyond that, as sympathetic as this article is, there are the usual capitalization problems:

Judge: Let's take the witchcraft out of it. If someone complains to you, he's Jewish, and refers to a stereotype about his Judaism, go to mediation and work it out? Is that management's response to that?

To be fair, it's possible that, here, the reporter is quoting from a court transcript that screws up the capitalization and that Ms. Smith wasn't legally savvy enough to demand revisions. But, even so, the reporter should have used brackets to correct this. For example:

Judge: Let's take the [W]itchcraft out of it. If someone complains to you, he's Jewish, and refers to a stereotype about his Judaism, go to mediation and work it out? Is that management's response to that?

Since Judiasm is capitalized, Witchcraft should be capitalized, as well.

But there's also this:

Here's a situation for all you aspiring managers: If you were the boss at a U.S. government agency and one of your employees complained that she was afraid of a co-worker's religious practices, what would you do?
Would it change your decision if the religion were Wicca, and the employee feared her co-worker because she thought she might cast a spell on her?
Here's how the Transportation Security Administration handled it:
It fired the witch.

Let's substitute Jew for Witch. In that case, would the article have read:

"Here's a situation for all you aspiring managers: If you were the boss at a U.S. government agency and one of your employees complained that she was afraid of a co-worker's religious practices, what would you do?
Would it change your decision if the religion were Judiasm, and the employee feared her co-worker because she thought she might make matzo from the blood of Christian children?
Here's how the Transportation Security Administration handled it:
It fired the jew"?

Of course not, it would say, "It fired the Jew."

And, there's the failure to capitalize Voodoo:

“I was dumbfounded,” Smith said. “I told him, that's not what Wicca is. We don't cast spells. That's not witchcraft. That's black magic or voodoo or something else. To put a spell on a heater of a car, if I had that kind of power, I wouldn't be working for TSA. I would go buy lottery tickets and put a spell on the balls.”

Not to mention Ms. Smith's own apparent conflation of black magic and Voodoo.

I hope that Ms. Smith gets the legal help that she needs; her case is pretty egregious.

hat tip/ The Wild Hunt.

Picture found here.

Sunday Ballet Blogging

Earth Hour

At 8:30, I will turn off all of the lights in my home, shut down my computer, go off the grid.

I will go to my altar and chant for a future that conserves energy and that gets energy from clean, renewable resources, that consciously honors its sources of motive power. Is Earth Hour the complete answer? No. But any time that millions of people work together for a better world, I want to add my body, as a Witch, to the cause.

You come, too.

May the Goddess Guard Her. May She Find Her Way to the Summerlands. May Her Friends and Family Know Peace.

Geraldine Ferraro, who in 1984 became the first woman named to a major-party presidential ticket, has died.

The former three-term House member from Queens, New York, was 75 years old. She had long been suffering from multiple myeloma, a type of blood cancer. A statement from her family said she died at Massachusetts General Hospital. More from the statement:

"Geraldine Anne Ferraro Zaccaro was widely known as a leader, a fighter for justice, and a tireless advocate for those without a voice. To us, she was a wife, mother, grandmother and aunt, a woman devoted to and deeply loved by her family. Her courage and generosity of spirit throughout her life waging battles big and small, public and personal, will never be forgotten and will be sorely missed."

Ferraro was an assistant district attorney in the borough of Queens when she decided to run for an open congressional seat in 1978.

When I was a young woman, struggling to make it in a world where being a woman was even more of a handicap than it is today, Ms. Ferraro's run for VP gave me hope. I thought of her when I voted for Hillary Clinton in the Democratic primary. I still hope that I'll live to see a woman become President.

Picture found here.

What Does "Hope" Mean to Pagans?

Here's more from Derrick Jensen concerning hope.

Not believing the culture will undergo a voluntary transition is not the same as not having hope. The question, again, is what do I hope for? I hope that salmon survive no matter what happens, and I hope the same for grizzly bears. I do what I can to help. Most of the activists I know do not believe a voluntary transition will take place, but they are hoping--there's that word--that if lynx and bull trout can survive another forty or fifty years, until, they hope, civilization collapses, then these creatures may be able to sustain. If they do not survive till then--whether or not civilization is still standing, whether or not our culture has undergone a voluntary transition--they will not survive at all. An activist friend often says to me, "As things become increasingly chaotic, I want to make sure that some doors are open, and some doors are shut."

He and I both, for example, want to make sure the "door" representing the evolutionary potential of salmon remains open. Two weeks ago I watched wild coho salmon spawning, albeit in a stream clogged with sediment from logging. Coho--and these particular fish were two and a half to three and a half feet of muscle, beautiful gray sides and white bellies, fins frayed from their journeys home--have survived for hundreds of thousands of years, swimming out to the ocean, gliding on deep cold currents, smelling the faintest traces of the places they were born, then following these traces home to spawn and die. They will almost undoubtedly be extinct in the continental United States within the next decade or two. Mine will probably be the last generation of humans ever to witness them cleaning algae off rocks of their redd--their spawning bed--scooping out spaces for eggs, cleaning away sediment with their powerful tails. But I do not want--will not allow--that door to close during my lifetime, on my watch, as it were.

There are intellectual, emotional, and perceptual doors, too, I fight to keep open. For example, the understanding that alternatives exist to industrial capitalism. The knowledge that cultures have existed (and still exist) where women aren’t treated as inferiors. The capacity to feel wonder and to experience beauty in encounters with others--human and otherwise--who are wild and free and different not only from us but from what we expect them to be. And most especially the ability to envision and live relationships (with humans and nonhumans alike) based not on bending others to our wills but on cooperation and mutually-beneficial sharing.

To eliminate false hope is not to eliminate hope altogether, it is merely to remove barriers that blind us to real possibilities, and bind us to unlivable situations. For example, my father was violent, and it was the false hope that my father's violence would miraculously cease that allowed my mother to remain so long married. Early in her marriage, back in the 50s and through the 60s, when battered women's shelters did not exist, perhaps that hope--that false hope--allowed her, and us, to survive. Because we were essentially at the mercy of someone else, with few options for meaningful change--because we were powerless or perceived ourselves as powerless--false hopes saved our lives by helping us to emotionally survive in otherwise untenable circumstances. But what if your life is not immediately threatened? What if you do not merely wish to survive, to get along day after day? What if you strive for something else? What if you wish to live fully?

Do you have hope for the future? What does your response have to do with your Paganism?

Derrick Jensen is one of the very few people on the planet named in my will. He won't get my Hermes scarves, but he could get most of the rest.

Madison

Thanks to Hraefna, in Canada, for alerting me to this in Comments. The other day, some of my friends from the Madison protests sent me an Ian's Pizza t-shirt. I really treasure it.

The Madison Protests (along with the brave actions of the Madison 14, who will never buy their own drinks when I'm in the room) did something that Saul Alinsky (my parents pushed me read exactly 3 books in my entire life. One, via my mom, was Kon Tikki, which I refused to read. One, via my dad, was Great Expectations, and one, also via my dad, was Rules for Radicals. So you can see, I come by it honestly) said good political action can do: it forced Walker to act precipitously, and it showed his actions for exactly what they were. Forcing a tyrant to act as a tyrant is a powerful political act. And it was effective here.

Now, a judge has stayed the implementation of Walker' act, based on the precipitous manner in which it was enacted and the likelihood that those challenging the act will succeed on the merits of the case once it comes to trial. There's a huge campaign (already halfway there) to recall the Republicans who supported Walker, and Walker, who is entitled by Wisconsin law to one year recall-free, is dead in the water come next year. Yeah, he'll go on to wingnut welfare on Fox or at the Heritage foundation, but he'll never eat lunch in this town again. As I've been chanting most of my life, sometimes on marches and sometimes at my altar, "The people, united, can never be defeated."

I am more proud than I can say of my friends who were there and of other friends who supported them. For a while, following the massive, and massively ignored, anti-war protests, there was a lot of buzz about how protests were old school and could never be effective in the modern world. Well, Egypt showed that for the lie it was, and so did Madison. Never doubt the power of people-powered political action. Never doubt that, as Margaret Meade said, "A small group of thoughtful people c[an] change the world. Indeed, it's the only thing that ever has."

Pagans were involved in the Madison protest, both as simple people occupying the beautiful Wisconsin State Capitol, as clergy, and now, via Sharon Knight's participation in this stirring video, as performers.

On, Wisconsin!

Jensen on Hope

So Easy

I keep hearing that the inventory of unsold homes is going to last for years. I would love to see communities begin clearing lots and turning them into community gardens.

What This Witch Is For

A while back, John Michael Greer wrote, "The good times aren't coming back." He was talking about the good economic and lifestyle times that were fueled by the amazingly rapid use of Gaia's petroleum reserves -- a resource that took Mamma Earth thousands of years to make and us only a few years to use up. Those words struck me at the time and have stayed with me, and I've recalled them as we've watched disasters exacerbated by global climate change and overpopulation. I've recalled them as we've watched America's economy consume the middle class and as we've seen the beginnings of political unrest fueled by high food prices (which, in turn, are fueled by global climate change and overpopulation). I recalled them the other day at work, during a discussion of the "new normal" for law firms, mere days after another DC powerhouse firm collapsed, dumping more lawyers into an already overcrowded job market.

And I recall them whenever I'm in a crowd of people, as, boundary-poor Pisces that I am, I can feel the worry, tension, and free-floating fear just below the surface in almost everyone around me.

And those words cause me to mediate again upon a deep question that Sia once asked: What are Witches for? The Talmud says that every blade of grass has its own angel that bends over it and says, "Grow! Grow!" And I believe that every place needs a "Witch of This Place," and every time needs many who will be a "Witch of This Time."

And sometimes, being the Witch of a place means doing deep trance and connecting with the tree roots, substrata rocks, water table, ancestors, fireflies, foxes, crows, and land spirits of a place. And sometimes, like this evening, it means being outside in the cold and wet and covering up tender plants to protect them from the coming frost.

And sometimes, being the Witch of a time, especially a liminal time such as this one, means doing strong, persistent, and serious magic to protect demonstrators in Wisconsin or nuclear plant workers risking their own lives to save Japan. And sometimes it means bringing some hot biscuits to the homeless vet who stands at the TR Bridge. And sometimes, it means being extra kind to everyone you meet, because you are aware that they're worried, coping as well as they can, frightened.

More and more, I think that, in the next couple of generations, we're going to see priestesses called to do the specific work of serving the species and groups of humans going extinct as global climate change speeds up. I'm starting to spend some time each week in trance on that issue and I'm planning, by Lughnasadah, to begin sending magical energy into the future to them. That's not going to be easy work for anyone, sitting by the bedside of and doing funeral rites for so many beings.

And, yet, at the same time (and here's the beauty part about moving beyond the either/or of the patriarchy), each of my cells cries out the words of Holly Near's song: "I am open and I am willing, for to be hopeless* would seem so strange. It dishonors those who go before us, so lift me up to the light of change." I am open and willing and hopeful for the tender plants of this Place and I am open and willing and hopeful for those of us beings incarnate at this immense crossroads of a Time. I've been called to be the Witch of This Place and a Witch of This Time, and I am going to meet those callings, as often as I can, with grace, courage, good humor, and tenderness.

To what place and time are you called?

*(I am aware of, and appreciate, Derrick Jensen's distinction between hoping for something (over which one has no control) and doing something (over which one does have control) and the need to be clear about the difference. I think that here, though, Near uses the word in the sense of "optimism" -- but "hopeful" works more poetically and, me, I will always side with the poet.)

How Do You Get to Carnegie Hall?

Here's a fascinating article about Media Matters for America doing some intense training in how to handle the media. Their particular focus is how to handle being on tv talk shows, but much of the advice is relevant for dealing with all forms of media. One of the weaknesses that MMFA identifies for lots of liberals is shared by many Witches and other Pagans:

The problem for the soldiers of the left, according to Media Matters instructors, is that they are just too smart for their own good. The traditional dependence on facts and figures, on being right, is no longer germane. Too often these wonks disappear into the policy weeds or fall through the cracks of nuance.

This is where, as I've discussed before, knowing your objectives for the interview and having your simple, short, well-thought-out statement makes a lot of difference. You can always add details and more information if asked. And a pithy, planned close is good, as well:

Shuster asked how Brenner could advocate foreign aid during a budget crisis.

“Well, David,” he replied evenly, “I understand everyone is hurting” and went on to calmly explain that foreign aid pays for medicines for children and early warning systems for tsunamis. In a second round, Shuster hammed it up as an aggressive Fox host and asked Brenner, “Why do you love the children of Africa more than the children of Alabama?”

“I want it to say ‘Made in America’ on medicines rather than bombs,” Brenner replied coolly.

“Ooooh,” the participants in the control room hummed approvingly. “Did he have that in the can?” one asked.

“He did,” nodded Kohut.

I get that, with a few exceptions, most Witches and other Pagans aren't going to spend time on national news shows, nor will they have access to the level of training described in the WaPo article. But everyone who talks to the media can spend some time practicing, and even a few sessions with a friend, videoed on an iPhone, can make a big difference.

Here's a great example of a Pagan doing it right. Note that Reverend McCollum had three clear, positive goals (none of which were "and I want people to know that we don't worship Satan or eat babies").

I had set out with three main goals to accomplish for our community which was the real focus of my trip. My first goal was to have us seen by others as a community with valuable things to contribute to the world. My second goal was to make alliances with other world spiritualities to join together to become a more formidable force for positive change in the world. And my third goal, was to include Pagan ideals into the mix as world leaders strive to construct a plan to achieve world peace and a sustainable planet.

Clear. Simple. Positive.

And, as an exercise, see if you can re-write this closing sentence in an otherwise outstanding media presentation concerning recent (and wildly successful) Pagan efforts to raise money for relief efforts in Japan: "And we are getting rid of the myth that Pagans cannot act together." (Remember Lakoff's point: When you attempt to negate a frame, you invoke it.)


Picture found here.

Things That Make This Urban Witch Smile

Mark Bittman:

We’re not just buying, we’re growing | Urban agriculture is on the rise. If you’re smirking, let me remind you that in 1943, 20 million households (three-fifths of the population at that point) grew more than 40 percent of all the vegetables we ate. City governments are catching on, changing zoning codes and policies to make them more ag-friendly, and even planting edible landscaping on city hall properties. Detroit, where the world’s largest urban farm is under development, has warmly and enthusiastically embraced urban agriculture. Other cities, including Pittsburgh, Philadelphia (more on Philly in a week or two), New York, Toronto, Seattle, Syracuse, Milwaukee and many more, have begun efforts to cultivate urban farming movements. And if local food, grown ethically, can become more popular and widespread, and can help in the greening of cities — well, what’s wrong with that?

More, including a great Wendell Berry quote, here.

It occurs to me that Beltane would be a great time for Witches and other Pagans to do blessings for local, community, and urban gardens and farmers' markets. (Although performing the Great Rite at the farmers' market could be dicey. ;) )

Picture found here.

Here, Have a Hellebore

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

What Cenk Said

Monday Poetry Blogging

What to Eat, What to Drink, and What to Leave for Poison

~CAMILLE T. DUNGY

I.
Only now, in spring, can the place be named:
tulip poplar, daffodil, crab apple,
dogwood, budding pink-green, white-green, yellow
on my knowing. All winter I was lost.
Fall, I found myself here, with no texture
my fingers know. Then, worse, the white longing
that downed us deep three months. No flower heat.
That was winter. But now, in spring, the buds
flock our trees. Ten million exquisite buds,
tiny and loud, flaring their petalled wings,
bellowing from ashen branches vibrant
keys, the chords of spring’s triumph: fisted heart,
dogwood; grail, poplar; wine spray, crab apple.
The song is drink, is color. Come. Now. Taste.

II.
The song is drink, is color. Come now, taste
what the world has to offer. When you eat
you will know that music comes in guises—
bold of crepe myrtle, sweet of daffodil—
beyond sound, guises they never told you
could be true. And they aren’t. Except they are
so real now, this spring, you know them, taste them.
Green as kale, the songs of spring, bright as wine,
the music. Faces of this season grin
with clobbering wantonness—see the smiles
open on each branch?—until you, too, smile.
Wide carnival of color, carnival
of scent. We’re all lurching down streets, drunk now
from the poplar’s grail. Wine spray: crab apple.

III.
From the poplar’s grail, wine spray. Crab apple
brightens jealously to compete. But by
the crab apple’s deep stain, the tulip tree
learns modesty. Only blush, poplar learns,
lightly. Never burn such a dark-hued fire
to the core. Tulip poplar wants herself
light under leaf, never, like crab apple,
heavy under tart fruit. Never laden.
So the poplar pours just a hint of wine
in her cup, while the crab apple, wild one,
acts as if her body were a fountain.
She would pour wine onto you, just let her.
Shameless, she plants herself, and delivers,
down anyone’s street, bright invitations.

IV.
Down anyone’s street-bright invitations.
Suck ‘em. Swallow ‘em. Eat them whole. That’s right,
be greedy about it. The brightness calls
and you follow because you want to taste,
because you want to be welcomed inside
the code of that color: red for thirst; green
for hunger; pink, a kiss; and white, stain me
now. Soil me with touching. Is that right?
No? That’s not, you say, what you meant. Not what
you meant at all? Pardon. Excuse me, please.
Your hand was reaching, tugging at this shirt
of flowers and I thought, I guess I thought
you were hungry for something beautiful.
Come now. The brightness here might fill you up.

V.
Come. Now the brightness here might fill you up,
but tomorrow? Who can know what the next
day will bring. It is like that, here, in spring.
Four days ago, the dogwood was a fist
in protest. Now look. Even she unfurls
to the pleasure of the season. Don’t be
ashamed of yourself. Don’t be. This happens
to us all. We have thrown back the blanket.
We’re naked and we’ve grown to love ourselves.
I tell you, do not be ashamed. Who is
more wanton than the dancing crepe myrtle?
Is she ashamed? Why, even the dogwood,
that righteous tree of God’s, is full of lust
exploding into brightness every spring.

VI.
Exploding into brightness every spring,
I draw you close. I wonder, do you know
how long I’ve wanted to be here? Each year
you grasp me, lift me, carry me inside.
Glee is the body of the daffodil
reaching tubed fingers through the day, feeling
her own trumpeted passion choiring air
with hot, colored song. This is a texture
I love. This is life. And, too, you love me,
inhale my whole being every spring. Gone
winter, heavy clod whose icy body
fell into my bed. I must leave you, but
I’ll wait through heat, fall, freeze to hear you cry:
Daffodils are up. My God, what beauty!

VII.
Daffodils are up, my God! What beauty
concerted down on us last night. And if
I sleep again, I’ll wake to a louder
blossoming, the symphony smashing down
hothouse walls, and into the world: music.
Something like the birds’ return, each morning’s
crescendo rising toward its brightest pitch,
colors unfurling, petals alluring.
The song, the color, the rising ecstasy
of spring. My God. This beauty. This, this
is what I’ve hoped for. All my life is here
in the unnamed core—dogwood, daffodil,
tulip poplar, crab apple, crepe myrtle—
only now, in spring, can the place be named.

Picture found here.

Thou Shalt Not

I'm often baffled at Christians who insist that every single word in the Bible is a literal truth and that everyone has to follow rules developed thousands of years ago for people who lived in a nomadic society, want their 10 commandments inscribed on every square inch of government property not taken up with nativity scenes, but feel that it's ok to, for example, kill abortion providers or, in this story, steal signs from stores selling Pagan supplies. It's not as if those bits are ambiguous; "Thou Shalt Not Kill," and "Thou Shalt Not Steal" are pretty clear-cut. No exemptions for situational ethics or in service to some higher good. After all, "'Vengence is mine,' sayeth the Lord."

Speeding to get away from the police, ok, you can argue about whether that falls under "Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's," but the not stealing bit seems fairly unambiguous.

And, as always, if you're going, as this story does, to capitalize "Christian," then you should, as this story fails to do, capitalize "Pagan." Both are umbrella terms for a variety of religions.

Picture found here.

Ivo! Evoe! Hail, Kore! Ivo! Evoe!

One of the morning prayers that I say is, "Mother, Wash away from my eyes the enchantment of forgetfulness. Allow me, as much as I can know, as much as I can see, to realize that we are all connected. Remind me Mother, that it's all just You pouring You into You." A bit of this prayer is based upon a quote from J. D. Salinger and I forget the source from which I borrowed the rest of it, but I'm grateful to that person for helping me to articulate how I feel about those times when we allow ourselves to be ensorcelled by the Overculture into thinking that the world can be divided into the Sacred and the Mundane, that there are "muggles," that magic and mystery and connection to the Ineffable is what happens only inside a sacred circle, censed with sage and inscribed with occult symbols. And I work hard most days, I do, to keep my eyes open, to see with True Sight, to remember that it's all one immense and breathtakingly beautiful and dangerous and perfect and safe and glittering Web and that I'm a node on that Web, but also that I am the Web and the Web is me. I work at it and some days I do better than others.

And then some days, Grace comes flooding through some phloem in the Universe and I'm synchronistically, randomly, at the right corner, on the right street, at the right moment and there's no work involved at all. The Web is so real and visible and crystal clear that I can't imagine, literally can't imagine, how it can ever seem otherwise. And then I'm the Web wondering how that node ever imagined itself anything but a part of the whole. And then even that is part, a perfect part, of the Web.

I had to go to my office this morning, Sabbat or no, but I left at 2:00 to head home, do some errands, and make ready for Ostara. Sitting at the light, I caught a glimpse of her: a girl at that exact age after her childhood and before her teens. She was reedy and thin, not self-conscious, but unconsciously conscious of herself in the way that no child can ever be. She carried some kind of a book or folder, up flat against her chest, and was skip-running a bit to catch up to her father. I looked away, waiting for the light to turn green, thinking of what needed to be done when I got home. I glanced back; she and her father were now at the corner, waiting for the same light to change. She said something to her father, I could see her braces.

And, then, it happened. All in a moment, all of the enchantment washed away from my eyes, and my body and all my senses were simply, perfectly, by Grace, a mechanism for perceiving the Web from inside the Web, the Web's own unconscious self-consciousness of itself. The sun got inside the girl's hair, which was that heart-wrenchingly beautiful color of carroty-red that is not replicated anywhere else in nature. Her hair was simply, perfectly, by Grace, a mechanism for the Sun to make itself manifest and to show its beauty; without that hair, that color, at that moment, on that girl, at that corner, the Sun could never have been all that it was born to be, and the Sun knew it and I knew it and we were both awed by it.

And there, sitting at the red light, surrounded by the city, headed for the Teddy Roosevelt bridge, there, I was -- and best of all, knew myself to be -- in the presence of The Kore, in the sunlight, on the day of Osara. Not, symbolically, not metaphorically, not in any of the ways that it would make sense to say that I was, just a few feet North of that girl, in the presence of The Kore, but, simply, in the presence of The Kore. Not that The Kore "rode" her or that she somehow pulled The Kore down into her. Not that she stopped being a flesh-and-blood girl with a history and a future and braces. Not that she had ever not been The Kore and not that . . . . Well, that is why the Goddess says, "And you who seek to know Me, know that the seeking and yearning will avail you not, unless you know the Mystery: for if that which you seek, you find not within yourself, you will never find it without. For behold, I have been with you from the beginning, and I am That which is attained at the end of desire." Words stop working.

And the light changed and I turned my eyes, full of tears and light, back to the road and, shaking, drove on, deeper into the Web.

May your Ostara be blessed, may all that is good and healthy and fresh bloom into your life, and may you have reason to exclaim, "Hail, Kore! Ivo Evoe!"

Picture found here.

Sunday Ballet Blogging

A Poem for Ostara

The Enkindled Spring
~D.H. Lawrence

This spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires green,
Wild puffing of emerald trees, and flame-filled bushes,
Thorn-blossom lifting in wreaths of smoke between
Where the wood fumes up, and the flickering, watery rushes.

I am amazed at this spring, this conflagration
Of green fires lit on the soil of the earth, this blaze
Of growing, these sparks that puff in wild gyration,
Faces of people streaming across my gaze.

And I, what fountain of fire am I among
This leaping combustion of spring? My spirit is tossed
About like a shadow buffeted in the throng
Of flames, a shadow that's gone astray, and is lost.

Picture found here.

Spring Reads

hat tip/SJ Tucker.

Thank You!

Many, many thanks to the very kind "Anonymous Reader" who sent me A Pagan Ritual Prayer Book by Ceisiwr Serith. Here's one of my favorites:

*Here in this city, surrounded by a canyon of
buildings that seem to block out Nature,
I pray to the gods of nature, who are present everywhere,
here no less than in the wild forest,
or the empty plains over which the storm winds blow,
or the ocean that hides its immense number of life
in its depths.
For we human beings are not separate from Nature,
and have our own nature,
and this nature is above all to gather into
communities,
and to form societies,
and to build cities.
So I stand here in this city and praise Nature,
present here all around us.
How could we keep Her out?

*Open my eyes, Dyeus Pter, to those around me.
Open my heart, Gouwinda, with your loving care.
Unite me with them, Xaryomen,
into a society of individuals,
based on reciprocal exchange.

Picture (of my city) found here.

Garden Dreaming

Hail Kore!

My New Name for a Blog

What Cenk Said

Synchronicity -- Wherever You Go, There It Is

There's this:

You don’t have to wait until things reach a critical point before you take stock of your life. Make it a habit to regularly sit down, be with yourself and ask yourself what you want, if you are happy with how you spend your time, if your relationships are strong or just a place to gossip. Go on a retreat, take a weekend to write in your journal and read inspiring books. Step away from your life in order to look at it more deeply. To paraphrase Michael Gerber: “Work ON your life, not just IN it.”

TAKE it off.

What are you still settling for in your life, in your surroundings, in your schedule? What’s draining you? What’s not a “hell yes?”

Be ruthless in answering these questions. And then, be ruthless in letting go. Take it off and feel the space that’s created from not settling for excess maybe’s in your life. Make your life one big YES – and live from that place.

How to Heal a Planet: A Give-and-Take Guide by Christine Kane

and, there's this:

And my time is particularly precious right now, because I’m not only writing but also teaching full-time and attempting to finish a doctoral dissertation. And I have a seven-year-old.

To be honest, I think what I did to make time for all those things is cut out the things that wasted time, that didn’t seem worthwhile. But that took looking at life a little differently.

So for example, once upon a time I used to make dinner. I would get home from the university and make dinner, which took about an hour. When we lived in the city, that was easy to do and still left time in the evenings. But here, after my commute, I am far too tired in the evenings. So instead of making dinner, I rely on organic frozen dinners. I know, they’re not homemade, but they’re as healthy as anything I would make myself, and Ophelia gets to try all sorts of things I don’t know how to make. . . . And while they’re cooking in the oven, I can write a blog post.

There are all sorts of other ways in which I decided to simplify my life and make time for what I thought truly mattered. For example, I decided a long time ago never to buy any clothes that required dry-cleaning. . . . All of the dishes and utensils go into the dishwasher, including the silver plate. If silver plate is used every day, it doesn’t need polishing. I have furniture that doesn’t need a lot of care, solid wood pieces. The floor requires sweeping and the rugs must be vacuumed, but this is a small house, relatively easy to keep clean. (It could be both cleaner and neater, but here I’ve decided that I’m not going to feel guilty about spending time writing instead of cleaning. Because after all, everyone who visits tells me how neat my house is. So that’s good enough, right?)

. . .

I should say, too, that there are a lot of things people consider leisure activities that I don’t bother with, partly because to me they’re not all that interesting. Going to movies in theaters, for example. Any sport that involves a ball. (I’ve discussed, haven’t I, my experience with balls? We repel each other, like magnets. Imagine how difficult that made kickball, in elementary school!) Going sailing, just to go sailing rather than getting anywhere. Going to any sort of gym for exercise. (Why? I’d rather go to a dance class.) Going to a spa. (Why? I’d rather learn to spin wool, or fight with a sword, or just about anything.) And I don’t shop, except when I’m going to an old book store, a thrift store, an antiques market. If I’m going to shop, it’s going to be an adventure. (Malls. Why?) That’s a good rule, actually: don’t do anything unless it’s an adventure. The other stuff: what’s the point? (Unless you like doing it, of course, and then you should. But don’t do things just because you feel as though you ought to.)

Not that it’s effortless. There are days when I’m tired, days when I don’t want to write. But I do think that writing is not about having time, but about making time. It’s about priorities. It’s about doing the things that truly matter, and trying to minimize the rest.

Making Time by Theodora Goss

In the end, it all comes down to Mary Oliver's Very Important Question: "Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" (I'm not a tattoo girl, but if I ever did get tattoos, one of them would be that question, somewhere like on my forearm where I could see it all the time. (The other would be one of my favorite quotes from Rumi: "The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you./Don't go back to sleep./You must ask for what you really want./Don't go back to sleep."))

Picture found here.

Read for Me?

I know that one is supposed to pretend otherwise, but I love birthdays. I love to make a fuss when family and friends have birthdays, and I love my own. Everyone deserves at least one day a year to celebrate the fact that they were lucky enough to incarnate on this breathtaking Goddess of a planet and that they've made it for another trip around the sun.

I'm 55 today, and proud of every single wrinkle, grey hair, and scar.

Like a lot of people, I do a reading for myself on my birthday, asking for some guidance for the coming year. (I want to make each one count!)

This year, I pulled:

A quality I need to foster this year: Playfulness

A Goddess with whom I need to develop a deeper relationship: Pele

My body/health/physical existence: Page of Pentacles

My job: 3 of Cups

My family/home/garden: The Star

My spiritual life & circle: The World

If you feel inclined, I'd welcome your readings in comments. May you, too, enjoy many wonderful birthdays!

Wick

Loosen up the roots and let the Earth get warm.

Monday Poetry Blogging

I am continuing to sit at my altar for Japan.

A Song on the End of the World

~ Czeslaw Milosz

On the day the world ends
A bee circles a clover,
A fisherman mends a glimmering net.
Happy porpoises jump in the sea,
By the rainspout young sparrows are playing
And the snake is gold-skinned as it should always be.

On the day the world ends
Women walk through the fields under their umbrellas,
A drunkard grows sleepy at the edge of a lawn,
Vegetable peddlers shout in the street
And a yellow-sailed boat comes nearer the island,
The voice of a violin lasts in the air
And leads into a starry night.

And those who expected lightning and thunder
Are disappointed.
And those who expected signs and archangels’ trumps
Do not believe it is happening now.
As long as the sun and the moon are above,
As long as the bumblebee visits a rose,
As long as rosy infants are born
No one believes it is happening now.

Only a white-haired old man, who would be a prophet
Yet is not a prophet, for he’s much too busy,
Repeats while he binds his tomatoes:
There will be no other end of the world,
There will be no other end of the world.

Warsaw, 1944

Picture found here.

Things Will Die

On Being a Gardener: From "And I Shall Have Some Peace There" from Margaret Roach on Vimeo.

Margaret Roach, reading from her new book And I Shall Have Some Peace There.

You've got to love a gardening book titled after a poem, especially a poem that includes the words "bee-loud glade," which I think make the world's second-best poetic description, just after the ineffable "wine-dark sea".

Sunday Ballet Blogging