Obama Restaurant Watch

Everyone in DC wants to tell the the Obamas where to eat on Valentine's Day. If I had to do a quick pick of romantic places, I'd pick Nora, the patio at Morton's on Connecticut, Tabard inn, Iron Gate Inn, and Citronelle. But I'm old fashioned and what I'd really like is a young lover who could show me some new places.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Obama,

Ignore that idiot Tom. You can have lots of good meals in and around DC.
Or, if you really want to hang out in suburbia, Willow. Willow is good.

Your Friend,

Hecate

Yarn Lust

Pure and Unadulterated.


Picture found here.

Fire!

If Samhein is a good time of year to set goals and then let them germinate through Yule, Imbolc, for me, is the shot-in-the-arm time, the pep talk, the time to really use that extra fire that comes with the longer-lasting sunlight and the occasional Spring-like day. (And Eostara's about play, something not reserved for maidens. I'll have more to say about this soon.) People who work off of the secular calendar often set new goals on January 1st and then dive right in. By now, though, the gyms are starting to seem a bit less crowded: people are beginning to flag.

I've been thinking a lot about fire, lately. About how one ignites it and how one keeps it lit. There's not much fire in my chart, and I've always kind of used that as an excuse to have an indifferent reltionship with fire. When I had to, I just relied on my earthy stubbornness to get me through. But I need it: I need more fire in my life. I've finally satisfied some of my earthy and watery needs for security and material comfort and structure and, now, at almost 53, I find myself needing more fire.

And, so, after living in this house for six years, I finally got the chimney cleaned so that I could start having fires. I had one; it was nice. I tried to have another one and somehow screwed up the draft; smoke all over the living room. I cleaned that up, learned how to start a good draft, and had a third fire. It broke the glass fireplace screen. I ordered a new one. It got delayed in production. You can't make this stuff up.

Today, my new screen arrived and I managed to get it inside and assembled all by myself. Even though it's rather warm this evening, I'm going to have a fire. If you hear tomorrow about an old woman and a cat burned in a freak fireplace accident, you'll know it was me. I am going to make a special offering to the house elves before I strike a match.

Image found here.

Update: Of course, when I went out to get the wood, the pile of what I thought was firewood on the backporch was nothing but FatLogs, used to start fires, but no actual firewood. As I said, you can't make this stuff up. I'll get some firewood and try again this weekend when it's supposed to turn cold again. Meanwhile, I love the Universe's sense of humor.

Spring

So, I have several good posts planned out, about what's terribly wrong w Obama's approach to "faith-based" governing, about who should be Sec'y of HHS, about what the upcoming Eostara has to say to crones, and we to it, and, of course, poetry.

But it's sixty-six degrees and sunny outside; the birds are going almost as mad with joy as I am, and I am BLOGGING ON THE BACK PORCH, BYOTCHES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh, thank every god and Goddess and nymph and dryad and elemental and power of nature that there is; it's sunny and warm and Spring Is Coming.

This morning, before we got in the car to head to his home, and while it was still chilly and overcast, I was showing G/Son the daffodils that are poking their heads up out of the still-quite-cold ground and I said, "Soon, it's going to get lots warmer, and we'll be able to play outside all the time, and Spring will be here." G/Son, who's into the "why" stage, said, "Why Spring will be here?", and I started to explain about the Earth and the sun and an ellipse, and then I stopped and said, "Because Nonna really, really, really needs it to be Spring." That was good enough for G/Son. About halfway home, he remembered something that I'd told him the night before, and he said, "Nonna, when you get home, those hungry rabbits may be eating your crocus. So you should put out carrots for them so they will have full tummies and not eat your crocus." And, so, I did.

Once, a student of mine, and once a dear friend, said to me that, if they knew right then that their lives were always going to be as they were at that moment, they'd kill themselves. And, I know that feeling. There are times for almost all of us when you figure that when you're going through hell you should keep going, but you do that because you imagine that hell has borders and that, eventually, you'll reach them. One of the things that I do is to try and deliberately "bottle" days like today, the kind of days that remind you that, eventually, things get better. And that can be potent medicine when the cold, grey Novembers of life transit from autumnals, etc.

The breezes get soft, the light returns, the green reclaims the planet, the sun shines so brightly on my copper windchimes that it creates it's own tiny, teeny, micro ecosystem and makes music from earth and fire and air on my porch. May it be so for you.

Photo by the author. Wooden garden sculpture from Garden Plum.

Freeway Blogger Rocks II

That Is All.

Women You Have Known Intimately In Sacred Space For Years.

Oh, Joanna, I'm Jealous!!!!!

Last weekend, I traveled with my mermaid sisters to Orcas Island for our annual Imbolc/Brigids Day retreat. We are a circle of women who first gathered together during the Goddess classes I taught in the 90's. They went on to complete the priestess training program I created. I have long since stepped down as "leader" and am glad to be one of a circle of equals. I have many other dear friends locally and around the country — but there is something very special about sharing your soul with a group of women that you have known intimately in sacred space for nearly fifteen years.

We spent most of the weekend talking and listening, cooking and eating, walking and laughing. This year we chose topics for our rounds — Health, Finances, Work/Career, Relationships, Spiritual Path, What We Care About the Most. And at the end, we set goals for the coming year. We would go around the circle by topic and each woman had a chance to speak as briefly or as long as she liked about that issue in her life. Then the rest jumped in with feedback or questions. The process becomes a cauldron for self-discovery and reflection, and I believe we all emerge from the Retreat with new energy and new clarity about our lives.

Joanna's right; no matter what else happens to you, there's something very special about doing magic with women whom you've known a long time, with whom you're used to doing magic, with whom you've entered sacred space enough times to flow comfortably into it. A college of priestesses. And, at least for me, it's empowering to know that there are women who will show up when you need help, tell you to try one more time, enjoy your victories, listen to you bitch about your job/lover/life, bathe your body when you die, call your name at Samhein.


My circle has been doing an annual retreat for several years, but, reading about the Mermaid's weekend, I'm wondering if we could think thing about a longer period of time.

Photo found here.

About The Time I'm Ready To Scream At Him, He Reminds Me That He DOES Get It

But, Dude, lay off the "my wife picks on me jokes." They are so fucking old and sexist.


Hat tip to the Goddess Athenae.

Victory Gardens And Staycations

Hammered at work and with a bad cold. But there's an absolutely brilliant night sky outside tonight, with a half moon almost directly overhead and several constellations bright as can be.

Yesterday, Landscape Guy and I were talking about the bad economy and he told me that, although his business is really hurting, he's trying to look for good things that are coming from this economy. More time at home with friends, a less frentic pace, more home-cooked (and healthier) meals, less impulse spending. He was the first person I've heard who has had anything positive to say.

What are you doing to deal with these times? My madcap friend R. is teaching every First Aid class the county can schedule for her and putting away the fees in case her state job gets cut. Another friend has cut back on e-bay shopping to pay off credit card debt. Landscape guy and his cute new lover are planning a victory garden in the lover's yard. I'm knitting a lot more; I don't know why, but it makes me feel productive. List your strategies in comments below.

Normal blog-blog-bloggity-blog-blogging will resume shortly.


Poster found here..

Violence

And the value of bipartisanship.

Priestessing the Great Mother Earth

There are, as Rumi said, hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground. Hundreds of ways for witches to honor and care for Mother Earth. My v creative friend K. sent me this article from the WaPo:

The first brave blossoms of winter jasmine are shivering in freezing temperatures. Daffodil shoots are rising through the rock-hard soil, and pearl-like snowdrops are just apparent through the golden and lifeless foliage of the hakone grass. (I must cut that back.)

Gardeners notice these seasonal progressions even in the supposed dead of winter, and for that reason, a U.S. Geological Survey ecologist named Jake Weltzin wants to tap into the vast reservoir of knowledge that exists in America's back yards.

"I would like to have 40,000 plant observers," said Weltzin, who is based at the University of Arizona at Tucson and is executive director of an organization called the USA National Phenology Network. Phenology is a bloodless scientific term for the miracles that occur every day in the garden: the morning in March a flock of cedar waxwings alights on the holly bushes, the first unfurling of the dogwood flower, the day the hummingbirds return, or the hour the frog lays her eggs. These life cycle events combine to form the tapestry of the natural world, and the more plants we use in the garden and the more wildlife we attract, the richer the experience.

Weltzin and his colleagues have a more prosaic reason to call on gardeners and backyard naturalists to log these phenomena: They are starting a 30-year project to gauge how climate change is affecting the world around us.

. . .

The unwitting father of this endeavor died 147 years ago. Henry David Thoreau, abolitionist, philosopher and naturalist, spent six years recording the flowering dates of 500 plant species of his native Concord, Mass., with the aim of producing a calendar based on a plant's first flowering.

Such was the scale of his task, and his legendary status as a naturalist, that his work inspired others in Concord to follow suit. Alfred Hosmer, a shopkeeper and amateur botanist, recorded the flowering times in various habitats of 700 species and varieties between 1878 and 1902. And from 1963 to 1993, Pennie Logemann, a landscape designer in Concord, methodically logged the bloom patterns of 250 plants. "I especially loved wildflowers," the now-retired Logemann said in an interview, "and more of my work was done with wildflowers than cultivated plants." She added, "I just noticed from year to year that something was going on."

All three sets of records have begun to give scientists a painfully clear picture of how global warming has affected our flora and fauna. Researchers at Harvard and Boston universities went back to Concord between 2003 and 2006 to record flowering data for 500 species (60 percent of Concord's green spaces have remained intact since Thoreau's day). They determined that temperatures have risen nearly 4 degrees in the past 150 years, that flowers now open a week earlier on average and that some plants are far better equipped to deal with this phenomenon than others. More than 60 percent of the plants Thoreau tracked either have gone extinct locally or are on the brink of disappearance.

"Orchids have declined, as have lilies and gentians; these are some of the most charismatic plants," said Abraham Miller-Rushing, one of the researchers and coordinator of the impending wildlife project.


Here's the link to volunteer; it's apparently going to be updated and made a bit more user-friendly in the near future.

This would be a great activity for Spiral Scouts, or just to do with your own kids, coven, lover, self. "Honoring the Earth" means more than just having a stone on your altar or a picture of giant tree on your desk. Being a witch is an activity, as well as a state of being.

Picture found here.

And, At The End Of The Day

I have two "Imbolc 2009" buttons for the first two people who email me at hecated emetersd atter ath otmaild ot com with their snail mail addresses.

Fourth Annual Brigid in the Blogosphere Poetry Slam

Song of Senlin by Conrad Aiken

IT is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning
When the light drips through the shutters like the dew,
I arise, I face the sunrise,
And do the things my fathers learned to do.
Stars in the purple dusk above the rooftops 5
Pale in a saffron mist and seem to die,
And I myself on swiftly tilting planet
Stand before a glass and tie my tie.

Vine-leaves tap my window,
Dew-drops sing to the garden stones, 10
The robin chirps in the chinaberry tree
Repeating three clear tones.

It is morning. I stand by the mirror
And tie my tie once more.
While waves far off in a pale rose twilight 15
Crash on a white sand shore.
I stand by a mirror and comb my hair:
How small and white my face!—
The green earth tilts through a sphere of air
And bathes in a flame of space. 20
There are houses hanging above the stars
And stars hung under a sea...
And a sun far off in a shell of silence
Dapples my walls for me....

It is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning 25
Should I not pause in the light to remember God?
Upright and firm I stand on a star unstable,
He is immense and lonely as a cloud.
I will dedicate this moment before my mirror
To him alone, for him I will comb my hair. 30
Accept these humble offerings, clouds of silence!
I will think of you as I descend the stair.

Vine-leaves tap my window,
The snail-track shines on the stones;
Dew-drops flash from the chinaberry tree 35
Repeating two clear tones.

It is morning, I awake from a bed of silence,
Shining I rise from the starless waters of sleep.
The walls are about me still as in the evening,
I am the same, and the same name still I keep. 40
The earth revolves with me, yet makes no motion,
The stars pale silently in a coral sky.
In a whistling void I stand before my mirror,
Unconcerned, and tie my tie.

There are horses neighing on far-off hills 45
Tossing their long white manes,
And mountains flash in the rose-white dusk,
Their shoulders black with rains....
It is morning, I stand by the mirror
And surprise my soul once more; 50
The blue air rushes above my ceiling,
There are suns beneath my floor....

...It is morning, Senlin says, I ascend from darkness
And depart on the winds of space for I know not where;
My watch is wound, a key is in my pocket, 55
And the sky is darkened as I descend the stair.
There are shadows across the windows, clouds in heaven,
And a god among the stars; and I will go
Thinking of him as I might think of daybreak
And humming a tune I know.... 60

Vine-leaves tap at the window,
Dew-drops sing to the garden stones,
The robin chirps in the chinaberry tree
Repeating three dear tones.

Fourth Annual Brigid in the Blogosphere Poetry Slam

Pain by Emily Dickinson

After great pain a formal feeling comes--
The nerves sit ceremonious like tombs;
The stiff Heart questions--was it He that bore?
And yesterday--or centuries before?
The feet, mechanical, go round
A wooden way
Of ground, or air, or ought,
Regardless grown,
A quartz contentment, like a stone.

This is the hour of lead
Remembered if outlived,
As freezing persons recollect the snow--
First chill, then stupor, then the letting go.

Picture found here.

Fourth Annual Brigid in the Blogosphere Poetry Slam

DELIGHT IN DISORDER.
by Robert Herrick


A SWEET disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness :
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction :
An erring lace which here and there
Enthrals the crimson stomacher :
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribbons to flow confusedly :
A winning wave (deserving note)
In the tempestuous petticoat :
A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
I see a wild civility :
Do more bewitch me than when art
Is too precise in every part.

Picture found here.

Fourth Annual Brigid in the Blogosphere Poetry Slam

Song by John Donne

Goe, and catche a falling starre,
Get with child a mandrake roote,
Tell me, where all past yeares are,
Or who cleft the Divels foot,
Teach me to heare Mermaides singing,
Or to keep off envies stinging,
And find
What winde
Serves to advance an honest minde.

If thou beest borne to strange sights,
Things invisible to see,
Ride ten thousand daies and nights,
Till age snow white haires on thee,
Thou, when thou retorn'st, wilt tell me
All strange wonders that befell thee,
And sweare
No where
Loves a woman true, and faire.

If thou findst one, let mee know,
Such a Pilgrimage were sweet;
Yet doe not, I would not goe,
Though at next doore wee might meet,
Though shee were true, when you met her,
And last, till you write your letter,
Yet shee
Will bee
False, ere I come, to two, or three.

Picture found here.

Fourth Annual Brigid in the Blogosphere Poetry Slam

Song: To Cecelia by Ben Johnson

COME, my celia, let us prove
While we may, the sports of love;
Time will not be ours forever;
He at length our good will sever.
Spend not then his gifts in vain.
Suns that set may rise again;
But if once we lose this light,
'Tis with us perpetual night.
Why should we defer our joys?
Fame and rumor are but toys.
Cannot we delude the eyes
Of a few poor household spies,
Or his easier ears beguile,
So removed by our wile?
'Tis no sin love's fruit to steal;
But the sweet theft to reveal.
To be taken, to be seen,
These have crimes accounted been.

Picture found here.

Fourth Annual Brigid in the Blogosphere Poetry Slam

Whoso List to Hunt, by Sir Thomas Wyatt

Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind,
But as for me, hélas, I may no more.
The vain travail hath wearied me so sore,
I am of them that farthest cometh behind.
Yet may I by no means my wearied mind
Draw from the deer, but as she fleeth afore
Fainting I follow. I leave off therefore,
Sithens in a net I seek to hold the wind.
Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt,
As well as I may spend his time in vain.
And graven with diamonds in letters plain
There is written, her fair neck round about:
Noli me tangere, for Caesar's I am,
And wild for to hold, though I seem tame.

Picture found here.

Fourth Annual Brigid in the Blogosphere Poetry Slam

I.D. by Barbara Starrett

I am a secret agent
Of the moon

Ex-centric
Extra-ordinary
Extra-sensory
Extra-terrestrial

Celestial subversive
Con-spiratorial
Spirita Sancta

Holy
Holy
Holy

And then some
And I have friends.

Art found here.

And She Will Always Carry On. Something Is Lost, But Something Is Found. They Will Keep On Speaking Her Name.

This weekend, G/Son and I went to a new nature center and marveled at snakes climbing gracefully down trees and a v large, v lovely owl, recuperating in a wonderful space. And, there I am, in the middle of the small wood in McMansionsville, surrounded by parents and G/Parents trying to find something to do w their kids in deep winter, suddenly accompanied by animals sacred to the Goddesss. Wherever you go, there she is, and it's all real, it's all metaphor, there's always more. The owl's daughter, Beth, has up a lovely post about Imbolc, tomorrow, when we worship the Goddess Brigid, patroness of smithwork, birth, and poetry.

For millennia at Her temple at Kildare (or Cill Dara, which means Church of the Oak), Her priestesses, and later, the nuns of Her order, tended an eternal flame in Her honor. Although it was extinguished during the Burning Times (the Inquisition), in 1993, Sister Mary Minehan boldly re-lit St. Brigid's flame in Kildare. It was lit again in 1997, in the Kildaire town square by Ragny Skaisten, a member of the Norwegian Brigidine Sisters, at the opening of Her feast day, Feile Bhride.

Since then, despite reluctance from the Pope, each year on Brigid’s Feast Day, the Brigidine Sisters in Kildare have lit the flame in the town square for the day.

Then, in 2006, in Kildare, on St. Brigid’s day, with much ceremony, lit by the President of Ireland, Her eternal flame was restored permanently. And every year, in traditions that have remained unbroken, Her celebrations are enjoyed throughout Ireland, and wherever Her Irish sons and daughters have migrated.

Tomorrow, in the magical space between one snow storm and another, my circle of women will gather and do magic in Brigid's honor. And, tomorrow, all over Paganii Blogistan, Brigid will be honored w poetry. What a lovely way to welcome Spring. As my v creative circle-sister K said to me, as we made last minute adjustments to our ritual, "Whatever else, we'll turn the wheel." A witch's job is to turn the wheel, and round and round the wheel does turn.

May your life be touched by transformation, growing strength of will, poetry, fire.

Picture found here.

Sunday Trakl Blogging

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!

Compare And Contrast

Check it out.

Next time, I want a woman holding the pen and a bunch of grateful men standing around.

Feast Of The Red Dragon; You Have To Go

From the DC Radical Faeries:

Greetings Faeries and Friends of the Faeries,

The Feast of the Red Dragon is upon us again, and the dragon is calling to us!

Time and Place Date: Saturday, February 14, 2009
Time: 2:00pm - 5:00pm
Location: Renaissance Hall, Westminster Presbyterian Church
Street: 400 I St. S.W.
City: Washington, DC

For complete information and to purchase advance tickets visit the Red Dragon page

here.

The Red Dragon Feast is an annual magical feast and fundraiser for healing blood-borne disease. Donations benefit community building and a local charity committed to healing blood borne disease. This year's charitable donation will go to Food and Friends. Along with nutrition counseling, Food & Friends prepares, packages and delivers meals and groceries to more than 1,400 people living with HIV/AIDS, cancer and other life-challenging illnesses throughout Washington, DC, 7 counties of Maryland and 7 counties and 6 independent cities in Virginia. Since 1988, Food & Friends has provided food and companionship to our clients, their loved ones and caregivers.

Our local practice of the Red Dragon Feast is to…

gather near Valentines Day wearing red outfits
drum and dance with the Red Dragon
feast on red foods
offer raucus toasts of red drink
honor those who have died of blood borne disease
call for strength for healers
call for insight for researchers
call for comfort and healing for all who suffer

Our intention is to venerate the Red Dragon to battle against blood-borne disease.

All Hail the Red Dragon!
All Hail the Life Giving Blood!

Please, do NOT bring food. Please, DO bring red items for auction.

Please do bring cash or cards for donations.
Please wear your dancing shoes.
Please, wear RED!

With blessings and Love,
Fritter

Every year, this event is one of the most fun, and most magical, Pagan events in DC. Put on something red and go!

Picture found here.

Imagine Imbolc

Underneath her blanket of ice and snow, Mother Earth is doing amazing things. Here's one of my Midnight Mystic black hyacinths peaking up from under the snow.

Miss Parker

My New Name For A Blog

What Ericka Said.

It's just another indication of how far we have to go: how free "good liberals" felt to rip Sarah Palin a new one over her child bearing choices. And, trust me, I'd have probably agreed w/ Son and DiL and moved to Ireland if Palin had been elected. There were a million and one policy reasons to want Palin to lose the election. Yet a great way to get yourself blasted on a number of v liberal blogs was to suggest that if Palin wanted to deliver her Downs Syndrome baby in Alaska, that was her choice.

But everyone in America, and I mean everyone, feels free to criticize women for their reproductive choices. Why? It's a way to keep women down and fighting w each other instead of fighting together against patriarchy. The "helicopter moms" can feel superior to the woman who gives birth blackberry-in-hand, and the women who choose not to have children can spend their lives explaining their choice to relatives who think those women are "selfish." Women who breast feed can look down on women who don't, and women who don't have a second child can spend their lives explaining why they "denied" their child a sibling. No matter what reproductive or child-rearing choice a woman makes, someone, somewhere, can criticize her for it. It's interesting how this sort of criticism always seems to focus on the woman, isn't it?

As Ericka notes, the latest target is a woman who gave birth this week to octuplets. I'm a huge advocate of population control and I'd probably go along with measures to remove the "tragedy of the commons effect" of big families that would give a lot of liberals pause. I think that we should, at the least, be doing everything that we can, educationally, socially, etc. to convince people to limit the size of their families. I can almost, in the words of the song, hear the planet groan every time it registers another birth.

But choice means choice. If society and the government can tell me not to have more children when I'm poor or whatever, then they can tell me to have more children than I want if that's what the government -- which we've all seen is way too vulnerable to take-over by Christianists -- decides that it wants to do.

And I refuse to engage in the game of tearing down and criticizing another woman --whatever her religion, politics, financial situation, class, etc. -- for her reproductive choices. I want to support other women, not tear them down. Shawna Carol's lyrics:

"When you look in your sister's eyes,
Praise her, praise her,
For she's been laid down
For centuries, "

ring v true for me. We'd be a lot better off if all the energy devoted to hating on this woman went into changing the pressures that society puts on women to make them believe they're incomplete w/o a baby.

And, requisite disclosure: I love kids. I had one who is, still, 35 years later, the absolute best thing that ever happened to me in a life blessed every day by mystical joy I don't even know how to describe, a great career, financial success, a circle of amazing witches, poetry, art, gardening, tea, and great and good friends. (Perhaps part of my great commitment to choice is the realization that many would have said that, at 17, uneducated, spinning out from a dysfunctional family, poor, I shouldn't have been allowed to bear. Yet Son turned out to be a wonderful, kind, caring man with a sparkling sense of humor. He's a wonderful lawyer who does amazing pro bono work and complex litigation. He got an Ivy League education and married a wonderful woman and lawyer. My reproductive choice was better left to me; how can I say less for any other woman?) Spending time with his son is the absolute high point of every week for me and I've been looking forward all week to taking him to the nature center and library tomorrow. I was at a sister-witch's house on Sunday and playing with her bright three-year-old. When I said that I had to leave to go to work he said, "But I will miss you!" and snuggled up next to me. All week, I've remembered that moment fondly when I was pulling all-nighters at work or slogging through the ice and snow. It's possible, really it is, to, at the same time: love kids, want there to be fewer of them, and support other women in their reproductive choices, even if I wouldn't have made the same choice.

So, What Ericka Said.


Picture by Anne Geddes found here.

Friday Cat Blogging

Miss Thing spent two nights alone during the storm. She was not amused.

Who Knew?

The WaPo reports votes on Obama's stimulus bill by Astrological sign, although, oddly, they list the signs in alphabetical order.

I'm no astrologist, but the results are interesting. There are 55 crabby Cancers in Congress, 50 two-faced, fast-talking Geminis, 45 people-pleasing Libras, and 42 critical Virgos. Only 33 idealistic Aquarians and a mere 29 each of practical Capricorns, free-spirited Sags, and stubborn Taureans.

What explains all those Cancers?


Picture found here.

Women, In General, Are The Lani Guinier Of The Obama Administration

Well, that didn't take long.

You know, I wouldn't like it, but I could understand it, if Obama sold women down the river in some back-room deal where he got something in exchange for it. You know, "OK, Republicans, we won't give women access to family planning, and, in exchange, you'll vote for increased unemployment benefits," or funds for light rail, or money for solar panels, or, hell, SOMETHING.

But, no. Obama sold us down the river and got ABSOLUTELY NOTHING from the Republicans. Not a promise of future cooperation, not an agreement to quit sniping, nothing. Nice work.

So when the Obama administration does find itself backed into a corner and forced to do something good for women, it happens as late as possible on a Friday afternoon and with as little fanfare as possible. When it fucks over women, it does so publicly and for no reason at all. Not off to an especially auspicious start, are we Barack? But, then, women are, after all, likeable enough.

Baba Yaga

Susun Weed has a great story about Baba Yaga and knitting and winter and cooperation and creativity and compost and what happens when we give back to the Earth.

When the snow begins to fall under tonight's Dark Moon, here on the banks of the frozen Potomac River, I will remember Baba Yaga, I will think of the hats and mittens and scarves and sweaters that I've knitted for Son, and G/Son, and G/Nephew, and I will dream each of them warm and safe and secure.

Baba Yaga is special to me and she's one of the Goddesses that I often invoke when I sit at my altar. To me, she's always seemed oddly modern, a tanned old woman with strong muscles, some gold jewelry, and the ability to look chic with her headscarf tied behind her neck, a la Jackie O. (Look. You relate to Baba Yaga your way and I'll relate to Baba Yaga my way. H'ok, bubbla?)

At least once a month, a make I recipe from Susun Weed's book on breast cancer prevention.

Soak some seaweed in water.

Saute some cabbage and onions and grated carrots in olive oil.

Chop up and add the seaweed. Add the water in which you soaked the seaweed.

Add a bit of tamari sauce.

If you liked, here's where you could add some tofu, or chicken, or shrimp, or fish.

Sprinkle w sunflower seeds.


Even if you think that you hate cabbage or seaweed, you'll like this.

Picture of Baba Yaga found here.

My New Name For A Blog

As ever and as always, What Twisty Said.

Fucking Comcast

Here's a great big "Fuck You!" to Comcast, the nation's second-largest provider of internet service. They won't let me link to it, but this video, entitled: "Witches Sweep DC Clean for Obama," is the top one in their "News of the Weird" right now. "News of the Weird" shows up when you open your internet browser if you use Comcast. Other videos in today's "News of the Weird" include: "Wife Sues for Lack of Sex" and "Fisherman Lost at Sea for Month in Icebox."

Of course, what the video shows is a religious ritual and magic working conducted by three rather-well-known and respected local Pagans. There's absolutely nothing "weird" about it. Here, for example, is the lovely prayer offered by my friend Angela, who priestesses a Pagan group in DC:

I open my heart to the heart of the Universe and
call upon the power of the sacred living Waters
to be with us.

I call to the tears of the Goddess to wash through us
To cleanse and heal our nation’s wounds
To wash away all that stands in our way
All that keeps us from reaching out and fully connecting with each other.

I call to the spirits of the rivers that flow through this land
to bring abundance and joyful life
to all beings who live here, work here, and play here.
to keep the heart of our nation
flowing strong and clean and free.

I ask the spirits of the rain that nourishes our land
to bring compassionate awareness and action
to the heart of our nation.
Help our leaders to actually care about those they lead
Help each of us here at this ritual, attending the inauguration, or watching it on TV
to open our hearts more fully
to embody the sacredness, and love, and healing that
we all so desperately need.

I call on the power of the sacred living Waters
to be with us here and now in this sacred circle,
in this sacred city, for this sacred event.

Blessed be.

Comcast, exactly what is it about that blessing that you find "weird"? What does that have in common with a wife suing for lack of sex?

Another blessing offered at the "weird" religious ceremony welcomed President Obama to Washington, D.C.:

I love Washington, DC. These are not words you hear very often. There are bumper stickers that say, I “heart” New York, but not DC. I love Washington, DC. This is a beautiful city. She is green and vibrant. She sings the subtle harmonies of jazz and the exuberant tones of go-go. She is Ben’s Chili bowl and Michel Richard’s Citronelle. She may never be trendy, but she is beautiful. She has been my home for the past 12 years, and is now the home of the Obama family. But, those of us who live in this city are often very aware that the world is focused on us, and usually not with thoughts of love and praise. This is why today I ask you to join me in blessing the spirit of our city, the nation’s city, Washington, DC.

Shaddai is a name my tradition uses when calling on the nurturing, creatix energy of the Divine. Shaddai is usually translated as God of the Mountains, but it is clearly related to “shaddayim,” the Hebrew word for breasts. It is a mother name. It is a name we use to tap into the most primal connection between mother and child. Shaddai can be nurturer or destroyer. Today I ask for the blessing of Shaddai on this city and those who live here.

May the Eternal bless you and keep you a vibrant and open city.

May the Eternal shine the Divine faces on you and show you grace that you may be a loving home for our new president and his family.

May the Eternal shine the Divine faces on you, and grant you wholeness and peace that you may support the work of tikkun hanefesh, repairing of the soul, that our country so badly needs.

President Obama, welcome to Washington. May this city embrace and support you and your family on this journey. Blessed Be and Amen.

Maybe Comcast's happy to be on record as calling it "weird" for someone with a Hebrew name to welcome the Obama family to DC?

It's safe to say that there is not one other religious group that Comcast would even consider treating this way. I don't care how small, how fringey, how different, no other religious group's prayer service or festival for the new administration would be listed under "News of the Weird." You could have a fundie minister lathering himself up into an eye-rolling, arm waving frenzy, you could have people from Appalachia handling snakes, you could have Native Americans burning sage, you could have Hindus burning demonesses and throwing colored water and powder at each other, you could have Quakers sitting in silence and quaking. No way Comcast would label a story about that "News of the Weird."

Comcast's CEO is Brian L. Roberts, Chairman and Chief Executive Officer, Comcast Corporation. Comcast is located at 1 Comcast Center, Philadelphia, PA 19103. Their phone numbers are: 215-286-1700 and Toll Free: 800-266-2278.

Sunday Trakl Blogging

Grodek

At evening the autumn woodlands ring
With deadly weapons. Over the golden plains
And lakes of blue, the sun
More darkly rolls. The night surrounds
Warriors dying and the wild lament
Of their fragmented mouths.
Yet silently there gather in the willow combe
Red clouds inhabited by an angry god,
Shed blood, and the chill of the moon.
All roads lead to black decay.
Under golden branching of the night and stars
A sister's shadow sways through the still grove
To greet the heroes' spirits, the bloodied heads.
And softly in the reeds Autumn's dark flutes resound.
O prouder mourning! - You brazen altars,
The spirit's hot flame is fed now by a tremendous pain:
The grandsons, unborn.

Georg Trakl

A Sweater for a Great Nephew

Come Bride, Come With Your Sacred Cow and Your Smith's Hammer, Come Across the Frozen Potomac

Some winters this doesn't happen at all, but, for almost a week, the beautiful Potomac River has been frozen, well, at least covered by a sheet of river ice. It's so amazing to me to drive past, and then over, it every day, as I do, and to see it covered in choppy ice, from the Teddy Roosevelt Island all the way to the Kennedy Center.

Water, in my cosmology, is about flow, change, cleansing, shifting, floating, drift. Seeing the most important body of water in my natural world frozen, I'm reminded what happens to Water when Fire is absent. Everything stops. It's gorgeous, and it reflects the Available Light beautifully, but there's neither solid ground nor cleansing flow. There's ice.

Imbolc's coming. Imbolc's about both the returning fire and sacred wells. Of course, it's about poetry. For me, this year, it's also about a focus on fire, will, intention, clinging to poetry. What's this Imbolc about for you? What is it that is frozen in your life? Towards which thaws are you yearning?

~Sculpture by Andrew Goldsworthy.

My Pipple

These are real local Pagans, cleaning the Bush Bad Vibes out of DC.

Jason has more here.

Bottoms Up!

NTodd Talks, Medea Benjamin listens!

We're Likeable Enough

Thank you, Mr. President for striking down the Bush administration's ban on giving federal money to international groups that perform abortions or provide abortion information ! This step will save women's lives, help to keep our already-vastly-overpopulated planet a bit less crowded, and acknowledges the deep truth that women have a right to control their own bodies. As Secretary of State Clinton explained: [F]or seven years, Bush's policy made it more difficult for women around the world to gain access to essential information and health care services. ''Rather than limiting women's ability to receive reproductive health services, we should be supporting programs that help women and their partners make decisions to ensure their health and the health of their families,'' Clinton said.

I'll repeat what I've said before: Criminalizing abortion and denying women access to safe abortions doesn't prevent abortions. It simply sends women into back alleys and the hands of untrained abortionists. Everyone knows that the real goals of the pro-criminalization crowd have nothing to do with preventing abortion. They've been trying for 36 years to criminalize abortions and, in that time, have prevented exactly zero abortions. Meanwhile, they actively oppose many measures that do actually prevent abortions and give only lip service to others. I'm not particularly concerned with reducing the number of abortions, but, we know, empirically, what measures do, in fact, reduce the number of abortions and, if the pro-criminalization crowd actually cared about preventing abortion, they'd be doing these things instead of standing outside clinics screeching at women.

1. Education for girls reduced the rate of pregnancies, thereby reducing abortion. Spend money teaching girls to read, do math, do science, learn a marketable skill, write, whatever, and you'll reduce abortions.

2. Teach real sex education. Quit with the insulting, anti-sex "abstinence" bullshit and teach all kids real sex education, including the use of all forms of birth control. Teach it early, teach it often, teach it without including the biases of the Abrahamic religions. That's something Abrahamic parents can do in their homes and their own places of worship.

3. Make free, safe, effective birth control available.

4. Provide economic opportunities for women. There's a reason that abortions went down during Bill Clinton's administration and up under George Bush's administration. When a woman knows that she will be able to provide for her child, she's more likely to carry her pregnancy to term. When she has health insurance, family leave, access to day care, etc., she is less likely to abort.

5. Teach boys that no means no.

6. Enforce child support laws.

I'll believe the pro-criminalization crowd really cares about "babies" when they start to do the above.

Meanwhile, as grateful as I am to Mr. Obama for reversing Bush's gag rule, I'd like to offer a big, steaming cup of fuck-you-very-much to our new president for this little game: Obama issued the presidential memorandum rescinding the Bush policy without coverage by the media, late Friday afternoon. The abortion measure is a highly emotional one for many people, and the quiet signing was in contrast to the televised coverage of Obama's announcement Wednesday on ethics rules and Thursday's signing of orders on closing the Guantanamo Bay prison camp and banning torture in the questioning of terror suspects. Look, closing Guantanamo and banning torture were highly emotional measures for many people. That was a reason to put those policy changes front and center, not to try to hide them on a late Friday afternoon. Why are women's rights different?

Obama often gives the impression that standing up for women's rights is a necessary, but distasteful, part of his job. Now, his job is to be the president. I hope that women's issues aren't going to continue to be the "Friday document dump" of the Obama administration.

And I'm sorry as all get-out that Mr. Obama is "bored" by the "stale and fruitless debate" over whether I own my body or the state owns it. Really. So sorry to bug you, Barack. No, I'm not.

Picture found here.

Update: As always, Twisty says it better.

Morning In America

My New Name For A Blog

Damn. I loved those gloves.

Dude, Really Don't Fuck This Up

Well.

Historic times.

The kind of times when you can hear the turning of the wheel.


This morning, G/Son and I sent our guests off with choruses of "Na na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na, Batman!" Along with coffee, bagels, eggs with cheese, and orange juice. G/Son had a side of oatmeal.

When they left to go see President Obama, G/Son and I went downstairs and played Batman, complete with cape, for quite some time.

Then, we came upstairs and watched President Obama make his serious promise to G/Son, to me, and to everyone. We ate Obama cookies before hand and Obama cupcakes afterwards. Nonna cried and had to explain why, sometimes, crying is a way of saying that you are way too happy. G/Son said: "Don't cry, Nonna. I will listen to President Obama's serious promise. He will tell the truth to me."

After President Obama made his promise, Nonna went into her altar room to light some incense for him. G/Son came in and lit some incense, too, for the fox, and the raven, and the Potomac River. We said, "Here, Mr. Obama. May you have mental clarity." We went outside and beat on some pots and graters and said, "Yeah! Obama is president!" We played with the neighborhood cat, Smoke, and we slid around on the icy stream in front of Nonna's house, and we came inside and had soup and then we took a nap.

OK, Mr. Obama. Don't fuck this up.

Thank You!

What Government Is For

Crofut Farm, Grover’s Corners; United States of America; Continent of North America; the Earth; the Mind of God

Discussing the need to become re-involved with the natural world, David Abram of the Alliance for Wild Ethics says:

Our senses have coevolved with the whole of the sensuous world, with all these other sentient shapes and forms, all these other styles of life. Our nervous system emerged in reciprocity with all that rich otherness, in relationship and reciprocity with hawks and waves and stormclouds and waterfalls, with an animate, living land that spoke to us in a multiplicity of voices. . . .

[Yet, in the modern world, many have come to believe that a] dynamic or living relationship is simply not possible with an object. The only things you can enter into relationship with . . . are other humans. Yet the human nervous system still needs the nourishment that it once go from being in reciprocity with all these other beings and entities. And so we turn toward . . . our human lovers and friends, in hopes of meeting that need. We turn toward our human lovers demanding a depth and range of otherness that they cannot possibly provide. Another human cannot possibly provide all of the outrageously diverse and vital nourishment that we once got from being in relationship with dragonflies and swallowtails and stones and lichen and wolves. It's just not possible We used to carry on personal relationships with the sun and the moon and the stars! To try and get all that, now from another person -- from another nervous system shaped so much like our own -- continually blows apart marriages, it explodes so many of our human relationships, because they can't stand the pressure.

I'd add to Abram's point that we now, also, seek what we're missing in increasingly advanced technology: what we can't get from other humans we now often look for in tv, DVDs, computer games, Wii. And, they're all great; I'd be lost without the internet. But I agree with Abram that there are some things that only being in relationship with the Earth can give to us.

I believe that one way to begin to establish that relationship, or, perhaps to re-establish it, as most of us did have such relationships as children, is -- this will surprise no one -- to regularly ground. A regular practice of grounding helps to remind you that you are of and in the Earth, helps you to focus on how the Earth is feeling, how it makes you feel, what you have to say to each other. This is one of the reasons why I like to ground by paying direct attention to physical stuff: are you sinking your roots into mountain stone, wet clay, warm sand, forest duff, garden humus? Is the ground frozen or warm? Are there small pebbles that your roots push past or large stones around which they curl? Are there worms, bugs. moles, bats in caves? Do your roots twist and branch around the bones of your ancestors, someone else's ancestors, the bears' ancestors? How does the energy that you pull up into your roots taste, feel in your belly, smell when you exhale it out into the air around you? I don't know how you can do this exercise and not realize that you are made of the Earth, you are in relationship with the Earth, you and the mole, you are both seeking solace and rest deep in the Earth; are you not sisters?

Abram says that we need to realize that, there is something interior about the mind, but it is not because it's inside us, but rather because we are inside it. Mind is not a human property, it's a quality of the [E]arth. As soon as we begin to loosen up, to allow the life of the things around us, and as soon as we begin to speak accordingly, we'll begin to notice that the awareness that we thought was ours does not in fact belong to us. We're breathing it in and out. Along with all the other animals, the plants, and the drifting clouds, we are immersed in the mind of the living world. . . . And I need to notice that each place has its own particular style of awareness. The intelligence of this place, the mind of this land, here in this valley, is quite different from the mind of the Puget sound, which is quite different from the mind of the eastern forests.

If we just start listening somewhat, something will snap us up, and suddenly we'll be just practicing; we'll be in it. Just discovering one again that we are inside the world will, I think, be vital, sufficient, strong enough to enable us to work with whatever we must face.

Ground. Ground regularly and something will snap you up, and suddenly, you'll just be practicing; you'll be in it.

Abram quoted in How Shall I Live My Life? On Liberating the Earth from Civilization by Derrick Jensen

Photo found here.

My New Name For A Blog

What they said. Read the whole thing.

Picture found here.

Sunday Trakl Blogging

Figure which has long dwelt in the coolness of sinister stone
Opens the pale mouth sounding
Round owl's eyes – sounding gold.
Those found the cave of the forest decayed and empty
The shadow of a doe in the rotten branches
At the border of the spring the darkness of his childhood.

Long at the forest border a bird sings your decline
The anxious showers of your brown coat;
The shadow of the owl appears in the rotten branches.

Long at the forest border a bird sings your decline
The anxious showers of your blue coat
The shadow of the mother appears in the spiky grass.

Long at the forest border a bird sings your decline
The anxious showers of your black coat
The shadow of the black horse appears in the mirror of the spring.

Photo found here.

Howling At The Moon

A few years ago, my husband and I went out howling for wolves, with a dozen strangers. It was a clear, cold night -- so cold. Our guide told us to work for discordance, all of us howling on a different pitch, switching keys randomly, to imitate the sound of a wolf pack in full chorus. We always started out that way, but as each group howl drew out at the end, we found we had turned ourselves into a minor chord -- a rich, deep chord, something Bach would recognize. In a clearing, surrounded by pines that cut the shape of wolves sitting on their haunches, the wolves answered our chorus -- a full pack-howl coming from behind the wolf-trees. I have never loved my husband more deeply. More than that, I loved all those strangers that night. I didn't know a thing about them but I loved them.

I have come to believe that natural beauty can be the ground of human connection, and the richer your experience of the natural world, the richer your experience of the people around you. When we alienate ourselves from the natural world, we alienate ourselves from fundamental parts of ourselves, and become lesser -- and impoverish our relationsips with ohther people, too, because we have less to give.

~Kathleen Dean Moore quoted in How Shall I Live My Life: On Liberating the Earth from Civilization by Derrick Jensen.

Picture found here.

Moore describes the experience in more detail here.