over 10 years of posts from Morag Spinner
At the beginning of the month I had my tea leaves read by a friend. They said that around the end of the month there would be a great big clusterfuck of…something. The reading couldn’t get much clearer because of that clusterfuck.
So today it is April 2nd and I am sitting here trying not to cry because I am at the bottom of the well. The chalice is shaking, and I fear it shattering again.
I’m a week late on this PBP post. I could give you a rousing round of excuses, but it’s kind of pointless. Life happens, and I’m sure y’all don’t begrudge me the week of silence.
I’m in a fallow time currently. It’s a fallow time of my own making; the mundane world is overshadowing the spiritual and I cannot focus; cannot think. I’m in rehearsal nearly all the time; I haven’t even had the spoons to go to class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Sleep evades me, and when it comes it brings nighmares.
I cannot connect with anything now. The only connection I feel is to the ancestors, and only when they claw at my back, demanding the water I offer to slake their thirst.
In such a time I cannot write devotions. I have the blogs up for the gods, but nothing is given. I even find it difficult to give in my own home. I forgot to offer to Aphrodite last week; I must remember tonight. The only god I am giving to regularly — every day — is Hestia, because She tends to break things in my kitchen when I don’t.
I know the gods haven’t left me. I’ve left Them for a while.
And I keep faith that They will be there when I am able and willing to come back to Them. Just as I keep faith that They will come back when They leave me.
Faith is what keeps me strong, what keeps my shattered chalice together. I would be broken without it. I do not believe in hope. I think hope is a false prophet. I do not hope that things will get better; I have faith that they will. And occasionally I lose faith — we all do — but I do find it again, and I never lose it completely. It doesn’t leave me feeling bereft, as hope would. It is a steady hum, like the earth beneath my feet. It does not raise me up on glorious wings, or anything so poetic. It just is. It’s part of me. When I lose faith, I lose it in things: humanity, my own broken body, that things will get better, and betimes the gods. But the undercurrent of it — the very idea of it — never leaves me. It’s a paradigm that keeps me solid and standing strong.
So I go through what motions I can, keeping faith that the fallow times will leave again, and when they do I will be back to my amazing life.
‘The truth about stories is, that’s all we are.
In First Nations Studies one of the most crucial things we learn is the importance of stories. Especially the stories of indigenous people, the stories of women, the stories of black people, the stories of hispanic people, the stories of the oppressed in every corner of the world. These stories speak back to the Master Narrative; they challenge the central paradigms of our culture. These stories, and the act of centering them, are a living, breathing form of resistance against oppression.
Stories oftentimes take a lot of courage to tell, especially if they’re stories of hardship or abuse. Sometimes they take courage to tell when they’re stories of happy times, because the sharing of such a personal thing — your own private happiness — can be like opening a vein and bleeding out in front of other people. Stories are sometimes fictional, sometimes not — but regardless their level of fictition they always tell us some truth about ourselves.
And they say that the truth will set you free
but then, so will a lie
it depends if you’re trying to get to the promised land
or if you’re just trying to get by
–Promised Land, Ani DiFranco
When someone tells a story, it must be honored. It is not idle prattle; it is not talking about the weather; it is not to be passed over and ignored in the endless cacophany of our media-saturated lives. Stories are important. They change the world; they make or break us.
This is ties in directly to my newly-formed Comment Policy. In it, I say that I do not have the metaphorical utensils to get to every single comment on every single post, but that I try very hard. There is a reason for this. So many of you have shared your own stories in the comments here, have spoken back to my stories, have added to the collective story-telling that this blog is.
I want to honor that. I want to honor your words. I want to let you know that I acknowledge your stories, that I hear what you say, and that even if I have no other words to respond with other than “Thank you for your words,” I am here and I am bearing witness to your stories. To you.
Please don’t ever stop telling your stories. Here, on your own blogs, on and on. Your words are important. Your stories are important. You are important, and I will continue to try and honor that with every word I write here.
When one goes to Witchcamp, one has an option of several paths to walk while there. These paths vary from camp to camp, but the one that’s always offered is The Elements Path, because it’s considered the foundation to practice within Reclaiming Witchcraft.
I have a confession: I’ve only been to Witchcamp once, and I didn’t take the Elements Path while there. I took another path, called Fires of Creation, Waters of Passion, which was a path focused on artistic expression as spiritual practice. (Now that I think back on it, the name of the path should have been a big clue I was claimed by Brighid. Also the fact that She was the deity we called in for one of the big rituals.)
I’m going to Witchcamp again this summer, and I’m not sure if I’ll be taking the Elements Path there. I’m working through The Twelve Wild Swans on the Elements Path, and I may decide that’s all I need. In which case, I’ll probably take another path. Iron Pentacle, if they offer it.
So I am attempting to align myself to the times of the day that are associated with the elements (this is just one of the many steps on the Elements Path). Dawn for the East and Air. Noon for the South and Fire. Sunset for the West and Water. Midnight for the North and Earth. (Any surprise that noon and midnight have always been my favourite times of day? Nope.)
It’s a little hard to do when it’s freezing still, seeing as one is supposed to be outside to soak up the feeling of each time. (It’s so easy to let time pass one by when sitting inside.) I’m hoping for warmer weather in the coming months so I can start doing this practice, as well as som nature walks in the woods.
Other things I’ll be doing include breathing exercises, creating sacred space, casting circles, tree of life meditations, salt water purification, and many other “basic” things. I like getting back to basics. There’s always something new to learn; always a way to deepen practice.
I’ll post more the deeper I get into the book and practice.
On a side note: I have no idea why Zemanta thought a million pictures of Sarah Palin went with my post. I didn’t mention her till now.
Because one challenge certainly isn’t enough.
No, I’m doing another one. It has a prize! And while I could technically use the books from the other challenge for this one, I’m not going to — because of suggestions made in the comments of the other list, and I really like pushing myself. Also I’ll be done with school sometime this year and will have a lot of time quite suddenly. At least that’s the plan.
I’m starting with the Maiden level (6-10 books), and will go up levels if I find it necessary. (Though I’m certainly not a maiden, nor an initiate, nor a mother. Crone is probably the most accurate word for me, if only because I now walk with a cane and yell at teenagers a lot. And hells, if my mom won’t take the title, someone in the family should. Anyway; I digress.)
The Books
More to be added as I read.
I might be clothed in sin
But I’m more than the sum of the scars upon my skin
I am more than the hurt of the words within my head
I am more than the size of the colours in my mind
I am more than the screams of the shadows in my dreams
I am more than the sum of the scars upon my skin
–Lunatic, Dyonisis
I’m depressed.
When I say I’m depressed, I don’t mean I’m sad because my favourite TV show got cancelled. Or upset because I’m having a fight with someone I care about. It doesn’t mean I’m just feeling too lazy to get up and do things.
I’m depressed means I am missing the motivator synapse, the bit of fire in my brain that makes it possible for me to get up and do things. It means that the fights with the ones I love are usually caused by my depression, and are seen as just another thing in the long wave of things I have to deal with. It means I expect my favourite TV shows to get cancelled (well, part of that is that I love sci-fi and fantasy, and we all know the fate of those genres on television).
It means a lot of things — and a lot of different things to different people who also suffer from depression, and I don’t claim to speak for any of them. This post is about me and no one else.
Continue reading “Depression, and how The Doctor helps me fight it”
Nyktipolos blogged about this for “A” in the Pagan Blog Project, and also the other day for Pithoigia, the first night of Anthesteria.
This year, Pithoigia went from March 3rd to 4th, Choes from the 4th to 5th, and Chytroi from the 5th to 6th. I had planned on celebrating it and then completely forgot about it. This happens when I sleep through entire days.
I did manage to do one thing. On Choes, I poured some wine from a bottle freshly opened on Pithoigia (thanks mom!) into a glass and offered it to Dionysos. I also lit a candle that smells like pecan pie. Because we all know how much I love candles.
Today I was going to make pottage and offer it to the dead, but I only had so many spoons and had to make it to the post office. So nothing particularly religious happened.
This is sort of the story of my life. “Oooh! Holiday I wish to celebrate/daily offerings I wish to make/books I wish to read! I shall do that, for I have plenty of time to plan! Woah where did the time go?”
So I am just going to make next year better, and whatever other new holidays I try to do this year. Wish me luck!
(sometimes I think the road to proverbial hell is paved with expectations, not intentions)
Magaly Guerrero at Pagan Culture has created a Witchy Books reading challenge for 2012. I read about this a while ago and decided to do it, but haven’t posted till now because I hadn’t come up with my list of books.
List of books finished, so consider this my announcement post.
Most of these are non-fiction, because I need something poking me in the side to remind me to read the books I own before buying new ones. Some are re-reads.
Challenge level: Lunar Booklover (28 books).
I’ve left #28 blank because I don’t know what else to read. I want it to be fiction, but a lot of times one can’t be sure if a book is about witches until one reads it.
So I turn to you, dear readers: what fictional book about witches do you suggest for number 28 on my reading challenge list? I am all about supporting indie/emerging authors, too, so if you’ve written a book with witches in it or know someone else who has, plug away!
ETA: I have chosen A Hat Full of Sky for the last book on the list thanks to suggestions made below.
Truly humbled and amazed; Friday’s blog post about Eve brought 163 views to my blog in one day (and another 32 yesterday). That means that Friday was my busiest day yet.
Thanks to all my readers. I hope I can continue to produce content that you all enjoy so much.
Posts you can look forward to: