WHAT I WAS...

At this moment, I am preparing for my next assignment on a course I am taking, and this required me to dig back through my journals for certain information.  Of course, I got caught up reading other entries and was struck by how in my life, one small event led to another, and then another, creating who I am today.

My past is a part of me - right from my birth, I experience events, small and large, that shapes me, and molds me and define me and then redefine me.  My life is a constant evolution.  Sometimes, it changes in a matter of a split-second, and at other times it is a slow, gradual process, a dawning of realization that overtakes and overwhelms me.

Within me resides the small child that used to dance, cry from scraped knees and curl up on my father's knees as he read me stories.  Within me resides the Maiden, newly blossomed into Moon cycles, exploring the joys of make-up and wondering at the changes going on in body, emotions and thoughts.  I carry within me The Mother, giving birth to five children, then realizing the need to change again to meet each individual child's needs.  It's like I had to be on many different levels at once!

And now, another transition that I am undergoing - going fully into Cronehood, shedding, letting go, holding close, opening up, closing down, keeping up, tearing down!  And at the same time, knowing that what I was I still am, what I experienced is still with me.  The memories are vivid, internal photographs and videos, of good times, bad times, every day events and monumental insights that flooded my being - all are here, within me.

What I have just written is nothing new - everyone experiences this in one way or another.  But it happened to me, and therefore was seen, absorbed and assimilated in a unique way.  Because it happens to everyone, these changes also bind me to others.  Because its intensely personal creates barriers.

My journals have taken on a greater meaning of importance to me this morning, showing me that what I was and what I am and what I will be.  Life didn't work out the way I had planned, but it worked out the way it was supposed to.

And now, I am standing on the brink of new experiences and a new life unfolding before me, and I once again feel brand new, like a Phoenix reborn, like Maiden again...

A DREAM...

I really don't see any reason why my dreams shouldn't count for my "one blog a day", and this being the first dream of 2012, it should definately count for something!I am in a park, and it's getting close to nightfall.  A young child joins me, and asks if he could walk with me, since he doesn't live that far from me.  I agree and take him by the hand.  Before we could go anywhere, two men approach us.  One of them has a rifle and the other a large flashlight.  In spite of their menicing appearance, I do not feel frightened, and tell them that we're just on our way home.  They go off on their patrol, leaving the boy and me to continue on our way.

It suddenly starts getting very cold, and by the time we reach a small hill, we see that it's all icy.  This terrifies me, because such "slippery slopes" become trecherous under my feet.  Nevertheless, I see a small patch of dry land to our left and divert our journey there.  Slowly and carefully, we make our way down and land in a pile of fabric scraps.  With a shock, I realize that it's all my fabrics which I threw out.  I recognize the burgundy velvet, and a number of satins as well as some checkered and plaid material.  When I pick these up I recall how a male friend tried on the outfit - a very Norse one - consisting of a pair of pants and a tunic.  I remember telling him that I still need to make a shirt to go under that tunic.I tell the boy that we need to pick all this up and put it in the trash, so it wouldn't litter the place, and together we take armloads to the two bins that are not too far off.  I am dismayed to see that they're all filled up, and as we try and fit the scraps into the bins, the two men come by again.  One of them, seeing what we were up to, goes and fetches another bin and that takes care of the litter problem.

The dream shifts and it is now some time later.  I find myself on a train going on a trip.   My anticipation for a quiet and peaceful journey is cut short when a man comes by with his pet tiger.  The animal takes an instant liking to me, and settles itself on the empty seat next to me, while the man tells me I should not be afraid of petting it.  The tiger seems to just melt into my hand, as I hesitently put it out, and drops its huge head into my lap.  The man, who I now see is quite an eccentric character, dressed all in a colourful motley suit, laughs softly, and in spite of my fear, I suddenly feel distinctly honoured.

*******

Yes, I think this is a very good beginning to my dreams for the New Year!

2011 IN REVIEW

A week or so ago, I have accepted a challenge of writing a blog/Note a day for the next year and a day. So, starting today, I shall begin...

The year 2011 has been one filled with amazing twists and turns, letting go and letting in.  Turning points, defining moments, friends lost and gained, of moving out and moving on.  

January 1st began a frenzy of packing and preparations to move from a house I lived in for some 10 years.  February 1st saw me move into an apartment building, a box within a box type accommodations, and I had no idea what was in store for me here.  But I settled in quickly and really loved the feeling of security.  It was somethng brand new, a clean slate.  It involved another huge purge  which made me feel as though I was closing chapters in my life.  And beginning new ones.

Shortly after I moved in, I realized that friends who were instrumental in making this move happen began to make my life unpleasant.  I ended the friendships and realized I'd have to live with the discomfort of being in the same building together.  But new friends moved in, the Red Tent flourished...

My health took a downturn this summer.  Back in September I wrote the following: 

1. " Insomnia – it’s been about two months since I’ve had a run of solid nights’ sleep.  Very few dreams, and every night it’s a struggle.  Even naps are difficult to achieve, and I don’t remember the last time I had one.
2. I am wondering if my decision to not work any more may be contributing to this feeling – like it’s a let-down.  There are many projects I have at home to keep me busy, but again, the low energy is interfering with any sort of production.
3. I keep saying that if I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was depressed.  I’ve had this feeling before, many times – low energy, inability to sleep, avoiding contact with other people (Moot is on tonight, but I can’t go.  It’s also Felix’s birthday, and I couldn’t attend his party), not able to think clearly, totally unmotivated to do the simplest task, nothing holding my attention or delighting me any more.
4. I’ve been absent from my Priestess duties.  Mabon came and went, but I had no ritual or ceremony.  And yet, with this like with any other venture, it’s difficult to get motivated.
5. The continuing heat is weighing me down very much.  The idea of going out for a walk or to go swimming is quickly rejected because I feel I’m going to pass out every time I set foot outside."

Dizzy spells began to overwhelm me in June, and as a result of that I had to find myself a new doctor and give up work.  It took me a long time to realize how deeply this affected me, especially the retirement.  I remember waking up one morning after a horrible night of tossing and turning, and realizing that never again would I be doing certain things - never again, would I be looking for a job, or anticipating a new assignment, or worrying about that next paycheque.  Never would I have to hurry to catch the bus and think what I should pack for lunch.  It was over.  Done.  

I looked forward to this day, when I would stop working, so I could "really start working", but when it came, I found the adjustment very difficult.  No structure to the day, except what I impose on myself, meant a new way of time-management and self-discipline.  It was a difficult concept to grasp, much less implement.  The summer heat did not help - I had to finally acknowledge that summers were getting worse and worse for my health.  In spite of two AC's running at full capacity 24/7, I found myself burning up, unable to breathe, unable to enjoy the beauty of the mountain from my balcony, because going out onto the balcony meant sufficating in the stifling heat and humidity.  Summer festivals like WiccanFest would now be out of my life because of this - another closure.  

And so I gave myself over to grieving and mourning for huge parts of my life that have come to a halt.  It was as inevitable as my next breath, as birth and death, just another milestone on the road of Life.  Of course, I didn't recognize this as grieving and mourning, but I did recognize this as depression.  It had to run its course, and once it did I emerged a little bit wiser, a little bit lighter, and able to see around me a little bit more clearly.

While all this was going on, there were some great things happening too - contact with my father, the evolution of The Red Tent, taking studies from Wise Woman's University, my duties as wedding officiant - all these enhanced my life, filling in the spaces of what I had to let go of.  

And now, on the brink of the New Year, I stand at the edge of something brand a new.  Like a Phoenix reborn, like a serpant whose skin has been shed, I throw wide my arms to welcome whatever challenges come my way.  

I am a Crone, and I am ready to take my place among the Wise Women!!

Happy New Year!!

REMEMBRANCE DAY MUSINGS

Today is a date that’s full of power, deep with meaning, both civil and private.

Today is November 11, 2011 – 11/11/11, and twice our clocks will also read 11/11, in the a.m. and in the p.m.  Next time this date will be written this way is 100 years in the future.  But for today, I shall leave it up to the numerologists to tell us the significance of this.

Today is also Remembrance Day.  Wars past, wars present, wars that take our young men and women away to faraway places, from which some never return.  Wars that have made veterans of people who have signed up to do the ultimate duty for their country.  Wars that have returned men and women back to us with memories of indescribable horrors and loss.  We remember these men and women today, and thank them for what they have done.  I, for one, will never forget.

Today is Remembrance Day for  me, on a more personal nature.  On this day in 1970, I received news from a police officer that my youngest brother, my baby brother had died under very suspicious circumstances.  So much I can say here.  So many feelings that will always be with me, so many memories!  A life cut short – he was only 18  - so much promise snuffed out!  My brother, Vitaly, I will never forget you. 

Well, so much for the nostalgic, so much for the remembrances that open the old wounds and bring tears to the eyes again.  So much for the energies that ever bind the living with those who passed beyond the veil. 

Now onto some positive blessings this day brings…

Today, we celebrate the wedding of someone who is well known to many of you on Facebook.  Shibaten Spirits will be wed to his beloved, and may this day be one of eternal blessings and joy for them.

And finally, today is Full Moon. 

May She, who bathes us in Her silver light, bless and keep you, may Her energies of power and enlightenment bathe you, and may you find solace and comfort in the arms of the beautiful Mother Goddess!

About A Photo Seen Yesterday on Facebook...

Yesterday, I saw a picture posted on the Home page that really upset me.  Everyone else thought it was funny, and it got shared and more people laughed at it, but all I could do was shudder every time it went by.  I want to now explain why I felt the way I did.

It was a photo of a tee-shirt which read, "DADD:  Dads Against Daughters Dating.  Shoot the first one and the word will spread".

I find it hard to imagine what is so funny about this.  It immediately speaks of harsh control, instant judgement, and patriarchy.  It hides the young women behind high walls, while teaching the young men that none are good enough.  It implies that developing healthy relationships between young men and women is wrong.  That SEX is wrong.  

So why do I feel so strongly about this?  Quite simply, because I was married to a man who thought like this, not in jest, but in an unwavering conviction.  When my daughters were but six or seven years old, he was already warning them that boys were bad, and they were to stay away from them.  By the time they were ten, he was talking in terms of them being sluts - yes, SLUTS!! - if they were seen speaking with neighbourhood boys, children with whom they went to school with and played with for years.  By the time the twins were 14, one of them tried to commit suicide because she could not tolerate the pressures that were put on her by her own father!

In the Middle East this ideology reigns supreme - women hidden behind veils, not able to speak or have a voice, where marriages are arranged, marital rape and abuse not only tolerated but endorsed.  Yes, perhaps I'm reading too much into this "innocent" statement, but I've seen too much of this attitude in real life.  

What makes men think they can continue to perpetuate this kind of thinking?  What makes women think they need to tolerate it?  It hasn't worked up until now, what makes you think it will ever work?

It is an outrage and an offense to me.  No, indeed, I see nothing to even smile about in reading such a statement.  

ANGST - Part 3, or The Land, The People, The Traditions...

Recently, I've been speaking with a Scottish lady who is extremely proud of her heritage and country, and this started me thinking about how people are tied to their land.  Speak to anyone who has come from Europe or The British Isles or Africa, and you will find something very deep and mystical about their connection to their land.  Not just the country - but the land itself!

Pagans everywhere talk of this, but somehow here in North America it's not the same thing.  We're too new here.  This land in Canada really belongs to the First Nations people.  (I'm not trying to make any political statement here, only a spiritual one.)  They know every grain of sand, every tree, every body of water, each insect and bird as the connective sinews that bind them to the land and to The Great Spirit.  We can barely discern this yet.  We see the same trees and lakes, but only superficially, only on the surface.  They have not yet yeilded up their mysteries to us completely.

My father has that quality when he speaks about Russia and the Ukraine.  He speaks about the birch trees and that particular colour of blue the sky has in the autumn; it is not found anywhere else!  When he said that the Old Testiment of the Bible was written by the Jewish people for the Jewish people, there it was again - he recognized how strongly those stories spoke to the Hebrew people; and although adopted by people everywhere in the world, still these stories remain uniquely Jewish.

My recent angst and rant was fueled by the frustration that the true sense of community is still missing from pagan circles today, and perhaps this is lacking because we are all so new to this country/land.  We do not know how to totally connect with this part of the Earth and each other.  Our parents and their parents before them have brought their strange ways over to a land that is steeped in its own traditions and we are all trying to fit into it.

Transplanted values, transplanted Gods and Goddesses, transplanted traditions always take time to work themselves into a new setting.

A few years ago, I had the great privilege of harvesting and processing sweetgrass.  This small act has brought me understanding and connection to the native land.  It was very superficial - barely a scratch on the surface - but I sensed something here that was truly of this culture and tradition.  As elusive as it was, it opened my understanding of something not transplanted, but genuinely "here".  

Now that is true tradition! 

Moments that Count..

Written on October 5, 2011


The memories of yesterday are very, very precious to me.  I spent a glorious day with my father.  There will not be too many of these left for us but whatever time we have will be beyond price.

I was on the bus to Brantford early, at 8 am, and arrived there just in time to see my dad getting off the local bus.  We then hopped onto another bus.  This reminded me as to why I could never live in a city smaller than Hamilton - the transit system just plain sucks!!  And yet, this is what my dad does on a daily basis; it takes him at least an hour to get to his favourite store, Walmart.  We went there to have breakfast and to do shopping for me - he insisted!

And at his insistance, I bought a pack of socks and a pair of tights.  He scorned that and told me to pick out something "pretty".  Resigned, I went through the woman's clothing section and finally chose a beautiful silver-gray top with bling.  At that point I discovered that while that department was huge, taking up a lot of floor space, there was not a skirt to be found!  I couldn't believe it!  Hundreds and hundreds of tops, blouses and sweaters, maybe four racks of pants that were totally unsuitable for me, even a couple of racks of dresses, but no skirts!  Totally disappointed, I went to the electronics section and got some computer speakers.  I felt much more at home there.

Anyways, I showed dad the blouse, and he cast a dubious glance at it.  "A bit low-cut", he observed.  I laughed, and asked what exactly he meant by that.  Ah dads!  Still so protective...Another two hours later of the torturous bus rides, we finally arrived at his apartment.  There he got busy setting out the dinner he had made: beautiful stewed perch in a savory sauce, mashed potatoes, salad, peas, fresh bread and a glass of red wine (who said that red wine can't go with fish?).  It was a joy to toast his health, and enjoy this wonderful repast with him!  Leisurely, easily talking of many things, we shared this meal.  French vanilla ice cream topped with fresh raspberries was the dessert.

I took the opportunity to straighten out his telephone woes after lunch, and then we settled down for more conversation.  I must admit that at this point, I was hard-pressed to know what to talk about, when (praise the Goddess!) an opportunity opened up.  He showed me a book he's reading on Leonardo Da Vinci and commented on his "The Last Supper".  I asked if he's ever read "The Da Vinci Code", and while he didn't, he knew about it.  "Of course, Mary Magdaline and Jesus were married and had a son!" he declared, as though there was absolutely no doubt about it!  He went on to say that while he still considers himself a Christian, it's because of a life-long practice rather than any strong belief; he couldn't see how God could ever have a Son; that most of the Bible, especially the Old Testiment, was written by the Jewish people for the Jewish people and should remain there; that most of the sacred writings were butchered by the early Catholic church to suit its needs; that he didn't believe either in Hell or Paradise, that once he died there would be nothing.  "You were Christian once," he finished off, "do you still believe in God?"  Something in the way he said this led me to think that he knew something was different about me.

My mouth fell open at all these revelations - I was totally stunned!!  I started laughing with sheer delight and responded, quite openly, that I was now a pagan.  He didn't even flinch, and somehow instinctively understood what I meant.  Nodding, he said, "In old Russia, before Christianity was around, there was a God ..." and we both said in unison, "Perum!"  Now it was his turn to look at me in astonishment that I would know this.  And words tumbled out of us both, as he too learned about me.  

Somewhere in there, he said he would love to see me do a ritual or a workshop, and I promised him that this would be arranged.  He loves the fact that I have taken up writing, and when I read him some of the works I had saved on the Notebook, although he didn't understand them entirely, declared that I speak with much strength, and urged me not to give this up.  

I had a hard time keeping back tears.

He called me this morning to say how much he enjoyed the visit.  "You have a good heart and love people.  I can see now how happy this work makes you.  You are not Baba Yaga but a Babushka!"  

Yes, my dad understands and approves my Path!!