Beach Woes

ferry; hermes/manannanWednesday brought a trip up to Powell River so I could work on Thursday and make it back home today, in time for the long weekend (ish). This meant traveling right after school ended on Wednesday and driving like limbo to get to the ferry on time.

I drove safely and arrived fairly early, even after leaving late. (Witches are like Timelords when we put our minds to it.) The ferry from Little River to Westview is situated right next to a beach that you have access to once you’ve parked your car in the appropriate lane. This is awesome for dog walkers and people who just appreciate nature – and yes, there are baggies provided for your canine’s waste so everyone can continue to enjoy the beach.

As I had about an hour to kill before I had to be back in my car to board the ferry, I decided to walk on the beach. I went to the water’s edge, took off my sandals, and let the ocean cleanse me.

I greet you, Lord Manannan
I reaffirm my devotion to you
I pledge myself to your care.

It was a spontaneous prayer, so this is not a completely accurate transcription. The last line is meant to be defined both ways: I pledge to take care of the ocean and the beach, and I pledge myself to Him and His care of me.

Then I got to work backing up my words. There was litter on the beach – granted, not as much as I usually see on beaches, but even one piece of litter is too many. I picked up all the pieces I saw and that I was able to – there was a bit that I couldn’t get, as it was rope tangled up with net and driftwood buried in the sand. Too much for this crippled Witch. I’m hoping that some able-bodied nature-lover will pick up where I left off.

While the cleansing of my feet in the cold, cold waters of His Saltiness was a beautiful way to celebrate my Wednesday devotion to Him, I find myself becoming angry with humanity once again.

Every time I go to the beach it is covered in litter. More so than any other natural place I visit.

I know why this is. The beach is seen as family happy fun time place, and so people take their kids, let them run around, and then go home – without picking up after themselves. The beach is not the domain of nature lovers only; it’s also the domain of people who don’t give a shit. Because the beach is a fun, cheap vacation.

This isn’t the same for a forest hike. If you’re hiking in the forest for vacation, then you’re already going to be inclined to love nature and respect it. I’m not saying I never see litter in the forest, because I do – but it’s far less frequent than when I see it at the beach.

This includes lakeside beaches too, by the way.

Seems wherever there’s water, there are people making a mess. Also seems there are too few pagans and nature lovers to pick up the pieces.

I’m not exactly sure what the solution is, here, but I do know one thing: education starts at home. I was brought up by my parents to respect the land around me, and I’ve never stopped. I’ll bring my children up the same way.

I don’t know what else I can do. Aside from writing angry blog posts that probably preach to the coven.

Feminism, Anti-Feminism, and the Pacifism of Pagandom

I’m pretty uncompromising in my feminist views.

I believe that all people should be equal.

I believe that we all carry around programming that causes us to be oppressive, bigoted assholes — no matter how much work we’ve done on ourselves, we’re still hackers trying to bring down the Matrix from within — and that code is a tricky motherfucker.

I believe that we CAN rise above our programming.

I believe that gender is a social construct, and that makes it just as real as any other social construct.

I believe that our genitals have nothing to do with anything except our sex lives and personal hygiene, and that reducing people to their genitals or reproductive organs is oppression.

I believe that if you are against feminists or feminism, if you think we’re a bunch of frigid bitches who can’t get laid and therefore hate men, if you think we’re whiny, or if you faithfully uphold any other bit of anti-feminist bullshit, that you are a big stinky asshole.

(This has nothing to do with calling yourself a feminist and your comfort there, of course. There’s a difference between not wanting to call yourself a feminist and being against feminism in all its forms.)

And, though I am not Wiccan anymore, I find bits of Wiccish stuff sticking to me like lint on my clothes, and one in particular that applies here is this:

With a fool no season spend,

Lest ye be counted as his friend.

I do not want you around me if you are against feminism. I do not want the stink of your psychic energy on my clothing or in my hair. I do not want you infecting me with your misogyny, or dragging me down with your dogged attachment to the status quo. The status is not quo, and I will fight against it with my dying breath.

This means speaking up. This means saying “No, I cannot let this stand. These attitudes are poisonous and they have no place in this world; not if we want a better future.”

This does not mean allowing the anti-feminists to continue to be your friends. This does not mean allowing them to spew their hate unchecked.

Tolerating a bigot is as bad as bigotry itself. 

So, Pagandom: can we stop? Can we stop with the transphobia and the misogyny and the letting dudes go along with believing that they could never ever be sexist because they worship a goddess? (Swear to Morrigan, this happens a lot.)

Whenever something like this occurs in the community — whenever someone is a big stinky asshole — you get floods of posts about “seeing the other side of the argument” and “being peaceful” and “remembering that we’re all in the same boat, now, and we should stick together!”

Uh-uh. I am not in the same boat as anyone who believes I am not a person, and I will toss that motherfucker out and let him drown. 

This is part of being a warrior. This is the fight. The fight for ideals, for justice, and truth and beauty and all the good things: this is it.

Misogynist? Transphobic? Gender-eraser? Totally against all feminism and everything it stands for because you think women should make you a fucking sandwich? Get the fuck out of my paganism and the fuck off my planet. 

Flagellation (and Beltane elucidation)

This is a post I wanted to do back when the F first came up. However, I had very little time or energy and no practical experience in using flagellation for religious purposes. (Fun, on the other hand…well. That’s another story.)

This post deals with Sacred BDSM and Godslavery; if this squicks you or you think I’m a horrible person for doing it, or a loony, or anything like that – skip the post and move on. If you must read it, please keep civility in mind when posting – remember that this stuff is really difficult for me to be public about, and I’m taking a great risk here. I’m not a punching bag for people’s unresolved issues about BDSM.

In April I bought my new flogger and meant to dedicate it to religious use. I did so not on Beltane, as planned, but the night before – Walpurgisnacht.

I mentioned in that entry that I’d just received a very clear answer as to whether or not my relationship with Morrigan was sexual. Since She’d made it clear that I was Her Godslave, I’d been pondering that particular aspect. She was never clear with me – until about two weeks ago.

(I’m going to post again about the details of how She made this clear, as well as some other stuff. For now I want to focus on the flagellation aspect.)

m'Lady's flogger.
m’Lady’s flogger.

So instead of a formal ritual the next day, after posting and signing off the internet I got up and jumped right into it. I stood naked in front of my altar to Her, grabbed the flogger, and said some words that I honestly don’t remember. All I know is that I ended up dedicating the flogger specifically to use with m’Lady instead of to general religious use, which I think was Her plan all along. (Red and black leather? Roses? Yeah, that thing is Hers, and I’m silly for not seeing that earlier. But I’m mortal, and She’s used to my density.)

Then came the use that makes each tool a tool; the final part of a ritual, essential to awaken the spirit of something. A sword is just pretty metal until it’s used; a flogger is just altar decoration until it slaps skin.

And here is where I attempt to describe what flagellation is like to someone who has never experienced it. With a whip like the one I have, there is more thud than sting, which reduces the fear of pain. You can take my word on this; I have a very low tolerance to pain, for a masochist.

I took the flogger by the handle and held it around my bellybutton. I then started a circular swinging motion, sending the flagella up and over my shoulders and onto my back. When I did a more side to side motion, they hit the sides of my back, so by alternating I could get a nice all-over.

I want you to pick up a soft paperback book. Not a thick one; a more floppy one. It shouldn’t be too narrow. Hit yourself on the arm with it. As gentle or as forceful as you wish. That thud+sting? Is comparable to what a flogging feels like.

Remember, this is no longer the 1800s, this is not a ship, and floggings are not given as punishment for mutiny. Or eating the last crumpet, or whatever. This sort of flogging is meant to be enjoyable, and it is for those of us who relish the right kinds of pain.

Thud-sting, thud-sting, thud-sting. I continued until my wrist hurt, and then I switched hands. Thud-sting, thud-sting, thud-sting. I aimed for release, and I did eventually find it. The buzzing sting, a vibration, took over my skin and my body, and my head became clear and fuzzy at the same time.

Finally I stopped, my wrist unable to take any more. My head fell forward, waiting for my Lady’s displeasure.

It did not come. She smiled in cold, sated pleasure, and I knew I’d done well.

She is as cruel and loving as the earth itself.

The next day my back was sore in a good way, accompanying the sleepy satisfaction that comes after good sex. I worked hard all day, cleaning the house and cooking for Her and myself.

I felt clear, scrubbed clean of sorrow and stress. As if each hit of the flogger shook some pain off me, revealing the purity of my soul beneath.

Beltane 2012

I have Plans for tomorrow (er, today; whatever I haven’t slept yet so it’s still tomorrow).

In my constantly evolving personal practice, I worship a Sacred Triad of deities: Brighid, Manannan, and the Morrigan. Each has a holiday: Imbolc, Samhain, and Beltane, respectively. (Each also has a shift of some sort — flamekeeping for Brighid in the cill, and seaseeking for Manannan and landbinding for Morrigan — but that’s for another post because I’m still not sure what the frak I’m doing for 2 of those three shifts.)

So today is Her day. And I plan on making it very special — just for the two of us.

[Also, as I was writing that I just got a very definitive answer to my question as to whether or not my relationship with Her as Her godslave is at all sexual — yeah, yeah it is. Holy crap. More on that later.]

I’m cleaning the house — giving it a good scrubbing. This is part of sovereignty work, reclaiming my sense of self: my keeping things messy is a way to keep people out. If I’ve reclaimed myself, my sovereignty, then I don’t need to keep them away. Also, I need to start respecting myself. And that means keeping the mess to manageable and quirky, not insane and eating-my-entire-life-and-causing-injury.

I’m doing a ritual that has yet to be written, but it will involve dedicating my new whip to sacred use and probably using it.

And I’m cooking a roast, which will be the feast for Morrigan and myself.

I’m not sure what exactly else will happen. I’m going to let things develop organically. If I feel comfortable enough sharing the details afterwards, I will.

At any rate, stay tuned for:

  • my infinite PBP catch-up posts, jeezy creezy (that’s F, G, G, H, H, I, for those of you not keeping score at home)
  • a post on flamkeeping/seaseeking/landbinding, whatever the hells those other two are
  • starting a once-a-week posting of the 30 Days of Paganism blogging challenge. I realize it seems like I can’t even keep up with the one challenge I’m doing, and maybe that’s true…but if I have one of two things to do, it’s more likely SOMETHING will get posted each week. And I am trying to continue to deliver quality content to y’all.
  • a post about Thangkas (you thought I’d forgot, didn’t you?)

Gee Whatapest at it again

Dearest Friends!
I would like you to help me spread the words that Singing “We all come from the Goddess” should NOT BE rewritten. It is my intellectual property. it is NOt a folk song, which by the way is the fate of many composers whose songs are stolen. You steal my song from now will have consequences. You put men into the song, like God,a hex will be activated. I have found that people actually sell their wares with my song in the Title,like Serpentine for example. These people are NOT having my permission, especially when they don’t even credit my name. Women are fooled that its from me, or fooled that its Serpentine. .Theft is theft. I cannot be everywhere, but i have experienced women making up new words,attaching it to my song that NEEDS NO attachments. Have you ever heard a man writing a song about the gods, and then put females in it?? Never. So stop you generosity attacks with my songs, write an original .Men who had Mozart and Schubert amongst them,surely will come up with their own songs .
Women like to give away and include but please do it with your own intellectual property.
I wrote that song for the Goddess worshipping women. Its gone around the globe. I don’t mind you singing it, only selling it and not giving me credit.
Its a sacred song, and i will protect it! Speak up when you hear this song abused, and write to me. Blesssed be!

—Z Budapest

Wow. Preach, sister. I heard some kids who had been brought up by pagans singing the modified version of your masterpiece the other day and man, it made me so angry! I wanted to punch a baby. I’m so glad that you’re activating a hex on all who sing it that way, so that these little whippersnappers will get what they deserve. How dare they derive joy from a new verse to a tune you maybe wrote*!

Also, thank you so much for pointing out that men never worship the goddess, nor pay heed to women, nor are decent human beings at all. All men, everywhere. I’ve tried to tell my male friends over and over again that so long as they sing We All Come From The Goddess and derive spiritual fulfilment from it, they’re not real men — but they never listen to me! Perhaps now that it’s coming directly from the priestess’s mouth, they’ll take heed.

And the comparisons of yourself to Mozart and Schubert! Flawless! And completely accurate, I’m sure my readers will agree. Especially as you write vaguely skilled poems that other people most likely put music to, and Mozart and Schubert were accomplished composers. It’s totally the exact same thing.

Finally, thank you for telling it like it is: the people who sing your song differently are abusing it and the GoddessTM. Adding lyrics to a well-known campfire song is exactly the same as battering your partner or your child, or someone else’s child, or a friend. It is exactly the same as perpetuating the cycle of abuse and violently hurting the people you love, whether emotionally, physically, mentally or spiritually, and calling such a heinous lyrics-addition abuse does not in any way erase the lived experiences of survivors of abuse or make you look like a complete douchebag. And those survivors of abuse are totally not pissed off at you at all.

Stay classy, Z. 

In womb-sister moonsblood glitterpuke flowerlove tra la Goddess’ name we pray!

*I say probably because there seems to be some controversy over whether or not Budapest actually wrote the music that goes with the chant; if she didn’t, then she can shut right the fuck up about new verses being added to the same tune because she wrote a fucking poem you can sing. However, I can’t find any solid information one way or the other. If anyone does know for sure and can back it up with sources I can alter my snark accordingly.

Spring Mysteries Fest 2012

Demeter and Persephone celebrating the Eleusin...
Demeter and Persephone celebrating the Eleusinian Mysteries. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Quite obviously I can’t talk about everything that happened at Spring Mysteries — they are called Mysteries for a reason, and furthermore parts of the experience are oathbound. I can tell you that SMF is an attempted recreation of the Eleusinian mysteries of ancient Greece, which focused on the myths of Demeter and Her daughter. I can also tell you that there are people who are cast in different roles, and actually play the roles of the gods in various events over the course of the weekend.

I can also tell you that the Lesser Mysteries themselves did very little for me, and it’s more the peripheral things that touched me like an electric current. I’m hoping that next year the Greater Mysteries will have a similar effect on me.

And I can tell you that something I wasn’t told, which I should have been told, is that there is a part where you must specifically interact with Poseidon. This is not oathbound — I can tell you the Gods are in residence, and I have, and it is a Hellenic based festival. These are not secrets. I realized that Poseidon may have been there; what I didn’t realize is that there is a specific main event that deals with Him: the purifying Parade to the Sea. It’s not advertised loudly, though it’s also not a secret — and I wasn’t told this because there seems to be some confusion among my friends as to what is oathbound and what is not.

Continue reading “Spring Mysteries Fest 2012”

A Day with Erin in San Francisco and Berkeley

A pewter candle holder with a grapevine motif…which is sort of really *perfect* right now.

Wednesday evening I spent at my brother’s house, playing an amazing video game called Journey. The next day Mom and her friend Chris picked me up and I went to go meet Erinnightwalker (and her bf) for the first time in real life. She gave me awesome gifts, because she’s an awesome person (though this should be fairly obvious already). See pictures above and below.

Things Erin made! From back to front, left to right: a heart with spiderwebs, a black scrying dish, a teeny-tiny bowl, and a teeny-tiny pot. Oh, and the silk scarf upon which they rest. I’m not sure if she made that, though.

After a fairly creepy lunch (ordered yam tempura, got octopus tempura — broke off batter to see what it was and the tentacle moved like it was going to eat us) we trekked all the way out to Berkeley to see Lacis, the lace museum and store (where I bought rosewood knitting needles, because everyone needs that) and we were going to look at the botanica as well — I’ve never been to a Santeria store, because I live in Blandada Canada in an area that has none — but they were closed. So we ate ice cream and got on the BART back to ‘Frisco.

This is when we went to Fields Book Store. You remember a while ago I bought T. Thorn Coyle’s Devotional Dance DVD via mail order? It was from Fields. Fields is, as you may imagine, freaking awesome. Wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling shelves full of books. I spent money, because it was like putting a kid me in a candy shop and saying “Go wild!”. Had I the actual money I could have quite frankly spent a few thousand dollars there. I did not, however, and I did not have the time. So I settled for two books and a new set of oracle cards.

Pretty and shiny!

Plants of the Gods is glossy with full-color photos of the various plants it talks about. This is very useful to me. It goes into the traditional uses of each plant, the rituals, etc, from the various cultures in which the plant was used spiritually. I’m excited to crack it open and continue my studies on the witchcraft path I’m on.

Kissing the Limitless is the book I’m going to read and work through after I finish working through Evolutionary Witchcraft. Or perhaps I will work through the two concurrently; I’m not sure. I also have to work through The Twelve Wild Swans still. Kissing the Limitless is T. Thorn Coyle, so it was pretty much an insta-buy for me.

My awesome new oracle deck.

For oracle cards, I got the Medicine Cards. This wasn’t an “oooh, shiny!” purchase; I’ve wanted these cards for years because they have always spoken to me. When I was a kid in Lifesong School we used them to help work through issues and get us closer to animals. Since then I’ve meant to pick up a copy of my own, but have never really had the opportunity. Travelling is a perfect excuse to buy things you’ve wanted for a while, and especially if you’re from Canada and you go to the States — where the books are cheaper. (The cards are 29.95 here and 35 in Canada, where I would have also had to pay a 14% tax.)

After was dinner time so we got food at the incredible Grubstake Diner on Polk St. So much food! I nearly burst.

While walking back to the bus stop we passed by Good Vibrations, and they were having their grand opening of their antique vibrator museum. So, you know, we had to go in.

Oh man. Did I say earlier that the bookstore was a candy store? If that’s the case, GV was a chocolate store filled with all my favourite kinds. So many things I wanted! I had to resist most of them, because I was running low on funds. However, I did buy this:

A whip with roses on it. Nice thuddy feeling.

I’m sure most of you can guess what that’s for, and why I’m talking about it on my spiritual blog. But for the sake of those of you who are just joining us, I’ll explain a bit.

I practice Sacred BDSM, and I’m a godslave to Morrigan. I haven’t posted much on this since the first time, though I’ve intended to. It’s a big, complex, fraught subject and I lack the words most days. Give it time, and I will deliver.

Anyway, I’ve been meaning to start…doing more physical things within this relationship. Specifically self-flagellation. That practice requires a whip that’s long enough to reach your back over your shoulders and still give some good sensation.

So this whip is not a for fun whip (I have a crop for that). This is for sacred, religious practice, and it will be dedicated accordingly. I’m not sure if I’ll be dedicating it to the Morrigan specifically or just to sacred use in general; I’m leaning towards the second because I have a feeling I may want to use self-flagellation for more than just my relationship with Her.

Like I said. Complex.

But regardless, I now have a gorgeous whip so I can start this practice, which makes me very happy.

All in all it was a lovely day.

Sudden Epiphany

Not even a full-formed one.

I don’t know. I was lying here on my hotel room bed and thinking about Dionysus, about all the Hellenic deities really, and it suddenly popped in my head: Dionysus and Lucifer. 

And then I found this post here, and it makes sense. But I don’t know how; I just know there’s some connection between the two and I need to find out what it is.

My spiritual neurons have been exploding since Spring Mysteries Fest. Man.

(Speaking of, post about what I can talk about forthcoming. Just not tonight; spent 7 hours on the road today. Bushed.)

Anyway. I’m on my way to San Francisco still, and will post when I’m there and have more time/energy. About THINGS.

Game Day! (and by “game” I mean “festival”)

As you can no doubt tell by the little box to the right, Spring Mysteries Fest is upon us. Well, upon me, and upon you if you’re going, I suppose. If you’re not it’s just Easter.

I’m excited about getting to attend because when I first heard about it, two years ago (I think? Time has no meaning in Morag-verse), I had wanted to go and got an explicit NO from Morrigan and Brighid. The only clarification I got was that I’d make an ass of myself in front of the Hellenic deities and They didn’t want that to happen. This year I got no such taboo, and so planned to go. And a little while ago, I made the decision to start working with the Hellenic deities in earnest, in addition to my work with my Sacred Triad.

Now I see why They originally said no — They knew I needed time to come to the relationships with the Hellenic deities on my own time, and didn’t want me to jump into it at the wrong time.

I’m feeling the fallow time ending now, and I’m hoping that SMF will give me the jumpstart I need spiritually. If nothing else, it’ll be an excuse to frolic with other pagans. Glitter and drums, ahoy!

Coming up:

  • My much-belated B post for the Pagan Blogging Project.
  • PBP: Another F and two Gs.
  • SMF debrief.
  • A post about my mom’s latest awesome gift to me: a Thangka
  • Adorations?