Seeds of a Winter Solstice

Last night I spent a few hours around a fire, sharing thoughts and dreams and hopes with a group of amazing people. Once a month we gather together around our Sacred Fire, forming and strengthening the bonds of our community and reminding ourselves that it is within those bonds that our true hearts lie. The physical presence of the fire warms our bodies and the spiritual presence of that same strengthens our minds and souls.

Last night, as appropriate to the time of year, we spoke of the Winter Solstice and the meaning it holds for each of us. During the winter the seeds and plants wait beneath the Earth, waiting for the promised return of the Sun. We are like those seeds and plants, using the times of darkness for contemplation, learning to know ourselves better, and reaching deep inside ourselves to pull out the ideas and hopes and dreams we want to bring to fruition as the wheel turns and the light returns.

With the light from Grandfather Fire throwing dancing shadows across our huddled forms, we shared our dreams last night. One dream in particular we will be working hard to bring into reality in the coming year. We will be planning and working towards a community garden, growing corn, squash and beans (the Three Sisters), herbs, and maybe even trying our hands at some beekeeping. (I'll be staying away from the bees, just so everyone knows). I'm really excited about this idea. As an apartment dweller, I miss the opportunity to dig in the dirt and remember fondly times spent in my parents' garden or on my uncle's farm. I've already alerted my mother that I'll probably be calling her a lot, picking her brain for canning  tips, and bugging my father for his secrets for growing as much as they did in such a small space.

It's not just the idea of getting back to the Earth, literally and figuratively, that has me excited. It's the community interaction, too. I look forward to working with the people I've come to love and admire over the last couple of years. We've shared good food, good conversations, and some jokes that made us laugh and sometimes cringe (not naming any names, Shine). This will be a new sharing that will bring us all even closer as we learn all about growing and harvesting and canning and freezing, ourselves and each other.

We planted our seeds in the dark of winter, sitting around a fire and we will guard them and nurture them as they gather energy, waiting to grow as the Sun returns.

If anyone is interested in learning more about the Sacred Fire Communities, go here:  http://www.sacredfirecommunity.org

Time to Let Go

Today is a day of mixed emotions for me. My son took his first steps into a college classroom this morning. I sat in traffic, remembering the first day he started kindergarten. He'd been as eager then to tackle new challenges and have new adventures. He never looked back that day, so many years ago. He just told me, "You can go now, Mommy", and ran in, strong and daring. Then I thought even further back, and remembered the tears I shed on the first day I left him at day care. He was just a few months old and he cried when I handed him over to his care-giver. I cried all the way to work, picturing him feeling miserable and lost with out his mommy. Of course I soon learned what most parents learn. He cried until I was out of sight and then settled in happily, distracted by new toys and new friends. And now, 18 years later, he'll probably just roll his eyes if he reads this. And then he'll probably offer to get me some scissors so I can "cut the cord, Mom". He's such a smart ass, and I swear I don't know where he gets it from. At least he embraces that trait of his, even so far as naming his own blog "Serious Snark".

Back to my emotional day, though. I'm proud of my son. He worked hard in high school and was able to earn a scholarship for his college education. I am very grateful for that, since the twists and turns of life over the last year have made it impossible for me to have paid for his college any other way. He was nervous this morning, sure. But he settled that messenger bag over his shoulder and strode off, and never looked back. The message was clear. "You can go now". I've raised him to this point, trying hard to balance the fostering of his independence with my need to protect and nurture him. I can only trust to the Goddess that I got it at least somewhat right.

That little brown-eyed baby boy with the tumble of curls on his head is now a grown man. Tall, strong, intelligent, witty, confident, and compassionate. He knows what he wants out of life. Of course those wants will probably change as the years go by, just as they do with all of us. But for now he's heading boldly in hi chosen direction. As proud as I am, it still stabs at my heart to know he's right. I have to cut the cord. I have to step back and let him be and become who he is supposed to be. I know that I might not always agree with the decisions he makes in his life. But it is his life and they will be his decisions. As long as he knows that I will always be here to support him, applaud him, help him pick up the pieces if necessary, and love him no matter what, then he will be just fine.

And isn't that what a parent should be for their child? A supportive presence always there to lean upon, loving us without judgment or derision. It's the way I see my Goddess, my Mother, in whatever name or face she chooses to show to me. There is no fear of punishment if I make mistakes. There is just that comfort, knowing that even if I fall, there are arms there to catch me, hands to dust me off and set me back on my Path, warm words to encourage me to keep going. I think that's a big thing I found lacking in the religion I was raised in and in so many others that I've studied since. I can't seem to grasp the lure the words "Our Father" have when they represent a vengeful, wrathful deity that must be obeyed and feared lest you burn forever in eternal torment.

My Mother and Father care for their children, no matter what. If we screw up, well, guess what? We get a time out in between lives and get to come back and try it all again. We are encouraged to learn, to question, to seek. Delving deeper and expressing doubts about the status quo are viewed as good thing, not something sacrilegious and harmful.

We, as parents on this plane and planet want our children to mature and grow into the best possible human and spiritual beings possible. The Lord and Lady want the same things for all of their children. I embrace my Path even more when I realize that it's made me a better parent by giving me such good examples to follow.

The Hundredth Monkey

I love this story by Ken Keyes, Jr and wanted to share it with everyone. Some may have heard it before, some not. But either way, it's a good read. 

Here is the story of the Hundredth Monkey:

The Japanese monkey, Macaca fuscata, has been observed in the wild for a period of over 30 years.
In 1952, on the island of Koshima scientists were providing monkeys with sweet potatoes dropped in the sand. The monkeys liked the taste of the raw sweet potatoes, but they found the dirt unpleasant.
An 18-month-old female named Imo found she could solve the problem in a nearby stream. She taught this trick to her mother. Her playmates also learned this new way and they taught their mothers, too.
This cultural innovation was gradually picked up by various monkeys before the eyes of the scientists.
Between 1952 and 1958, all the young monkeys learned to wash the sandy sweet potatoes to make them more palatable.
Only the adults who imitated their children learned this social improvement. Other adults kept eating the dirty sweet potatoes.

Then something startling took place. In the autumn of 1958, a certain number of Koshima monkeys were washing sweet potatoes — the exact number is not known.
Let us suppose that when the sun rose one morning there were 99 monkeys on Koshima Island who had learned to wash their sweet potatoes.
Let's further suppose that later that morning, the hundredth monkey learned to wash potatoes.

THEN IT HAPPENED!
By that evening almost everyone in the tribe was washing sweet potatoes before eating them.
The added energy of this hundredth monkey somehow created an ideological breakthrough!
But notice.
A most surprising thing observed by these scientists was that the habit of washing sweet potatoes then jumped over the sea —
Colonies of monkeys on other islands and the mainland troop of monkeys at Takasakiyama began washing their sweet potatoes!

Thus, when a certain critical number achieves an awareness, this new awareness may be communicated from mind to mind.
Although the exact number may very, the Hundredth Monkey Phenomenon means that when only a limited number of people know of a new way, it may remain the consciousness property of these people.
But there is a point at which if only one more person tunes-in to a new awareness, a field is strengthened so that this awareness is picked up by almost everyone!

Open yourself to the shifting changes in the energies of the Universe. Open yourself to the concept of love-loving yourself and others. Open yourself to the concept of acceptance, not just tolerance. 
Be the Hundredth Monkey.

The Journey of MY Spirit

It was for a variety of reasons that I, years ago, rejected the dogma of Christianity and other organized religions. Instead, I wandered through the fascinating maze of religious history. I became a spiritual nomad, exploring a variety of paths.I read about all kinds of religions, but I didn't feel comfortable with any of them. I needed more information, but it was hard to find. A lot has changed in the last 25 years.  I knew in my heart what I felt and believed but way back then the internet wasn't the nearly the overflowing, gushing geyser of information it is today. If anything, it was just a trickle, seeping up from between barren rocks. But, I did manage to meet a woman from Missouri who became my first "online" friend. She and I spent many hours chatting online, sharing the joys and heartaches of being single mothers of young children. It was from her that I first heard the word "Paganism". She let me know that she was a Pagan and practicing witch. Intrigued by some of the things she said, I started digging up any and all information I could find on the subject (which again, wasn't much, not like the plethora of information these days). As I read it was like a spiritual homecoming. There were people who felt and believed the same things I did! There was a name for these people, for me. Pagan. Oh, I know now that the belief sets that come under the heading of "Pagan" are as many and as varied as the leaves in the trees that I honor and love. But at that moment, all of the differences were nothing to me in the face of the commonalities. I had found "my people".

In the ensuing years I've continued my studies, sometmes almost obsessively. I started with the quintessential book Drawing Down the Moon by Margot Adler- THE book "they" say every pagan should read. I devoured works by everyone from Silver Ravenwolf and Scott Cunningham to Z Budapest, Dorothy Morrison, Raven Grimassi, and Isaac Bonewits. I think at last count my "woo-woo" library contained over 200 books, since I hoard those books, never giving them away or selling them to the used book store, even if I haven't read them in years. Some of what I read I accepted and embraced. Other things just didn't fit for me, so they were filed away in my mind under "interesting, but not for me".

It hasn't all been reading, though. I've sought out those with knowledge and experience greater than mine. My online friend, Patti was her name, was my first teacher. We kept up communication for many years, finally losing touch in the vastness of cyberspace and of life itself. There have been others I've learned from since. Some things I was taught were good things, some not so good. But for me it was all about the knowledge and the process of opening my mind and spirit.

I learned the history of ancient Pagan beliefs and the facts of the birth of Neo-Paganism, divorced from the mythos. I made side trips into Celtic lore, Native American beliefs, Hinduism, Voudou, Hoo-Doo, Asatru, and Egyptian pantheons. From each I found those parts that sang to my soul and held onto them, weaving them into the tapestry that was becoming my true self.

Even today, some twenty odd years after I took the first step onto that road less traveled, I am learning and evolving. The Earth Mother stays as the central heart of it all, and I honor the duality of life in her Consort. I celebrate the Sabbats with others on occassion, but there is always my own private, unique observance. I have honed my talents in the Craft, finding new ways to bring the elements together and achieve my dreams. I have studied Reiki, and accepted the Universal responsibilities that go with it. I have learned to blend my own magickal healing with the energies of Reiki. Most recently, I have plunged into things metaphysical, and added the new ingredient of spirit doctors to the healing recipe, and given the cauldron a good stir.

These won't be the last steps on my journey, for life is a series of spiral dances, twisting and curving in upon itself and out again. I look forward to all of the knowledge and wisdom and just plain fun that is yet to come. And I look back, grateful that I was able to find my path and embark on this journey of my spirit.

Beltane Blessings

What follows is an essay I wrote 9 years ago on Beltane. I still enjoy re-reading it today, which isn't often true of old writings.

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It is called the Great Rite. The divine consummation between our Lord and Lady. The joining together of the God and Goddess, in love, passion, desire, and the fruitfulness that provides for us all. There is perhaps nothing more sacredly solemn and blissfully joyful all at once than this Great Rite of joining.

From this union is planted in the fertile womb of the Goddess, the God which-will-be. He who will be born to us in the dark coldness of winter, bringing with him the light and warmth and the hope of winter's end. From this union comes forth the bounty of the earth. The crops, the grains and fruits, the food with which the Earth sustains us. As the Goddess grows in her pregnancy, so the Earth becomes heavy-laden with all its generosity. The Mother and Father provide for their children through the very act of their love.

When we reenact this Great Rite, whether we do it symbolically with athame and chalice, or physically with the sexual joining of our chosen God and Goddess incarnate, it is with reverence, respect, and unadulterated joy. For in our hearts beats the rhythm of divine love and the passion of unbridled lust. We can feel the power singing in the air, the anticipation as if for a moment, the collective universe holds its breath. And in that space of time, no more than the sliver of a heartbeat, all things that can be imagined are possible and all things possible are real. And then the universal heart beats once more, in a rush of heat and blood that warms us to the depths of our souls.

It is a joining of the essences of Goddess and God, a transmutation that transcends all else. A coming together of fiery radiant passion and the cool soothing waves of the fathomless depths of the sea. Together they pulse, changing and renewing and replenishing all they touch in the sacred spiral. There is no greater rite than this. It is the consummate love that no other act can hope to equal.

Blessed Be, as in love and light we celebrate the marriage of our Goddess and her eternal lover. Blessed Be and Merry Beltane.

Earth Day 2011

So today is Earth Day, 2011. 

We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children.  ~Native American Proverb

Humankind has not woven the web of life.  We are but one thread within it.  Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves.  All things are bound together.  All things connect.  ~Chief Seattle, 1855

There is hope if people will begin to awaken that spiritual part of themselves, that heartfelt knowledge that we are caretakers of this planet.  ~Brooke Medicine Eagle

Only when the last tree has died and the last river been poisoned and the last fish been caught will we realise we cannot eat money.  ~Cree Indian Proverb 

Earth Day. Probably the only day of the year when too many of us who owe our lives to Mother Earth will stop to dwell on the thoughts and proverbs quoted here. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining that we have Earth Day. I'm just saddened that we have to have a special day set aside for people to remember that we depend on the Earth for our lives. The Earth will continue long after humanity slaughters itself out of existence. Quite frankly, she doesn't need us. But we need her. 

We need to sustain her, if not for her sake, for our very own. We need to slow down, re-examine our lives, change our ways, and stop doing what we're doing that is destroying the systems in place on Earth that sustain us. (Somehow, I don't see how getting a free cup of coffee or tea at Starbucks will do that, but that's just me. ) 


The world needs to let go of the notion that we can "fix" whatever we screw up. It took millions of years for the Earth to create systems that make it possible for humans to "be". I don't think it's going to be very easy to fix something that long in the making. It only makes sense to realize that it is a whole lot easier to protect and conserve now, than  try to remake things when it's probably too late. 


The Native Americans have always had a deep and personal relationship with the Earth. They have understood that what we do to help and protect her, we do to save ourselves. Thankfully there is a shift in awareness going on among all the Earth's people, an awakening to the things that the most ancient people knew and that we have forgotten through time. We can only hope that we have not slept too long. 


Make every day your "Earth Day".

Don't Forget to Watch the Fish

My life seems to be filled with synchronicity lately.  I think maybe someone is trying to make sure I don't miss any more messages, by sending them multiple times in multiple ways.

A few weeks ago I came across some long assumed lost writings I'd done nearly 10 years ago. Of course, I had to sit down and reread them. I guess I have to pat myself on the back, because even though I've traveled a long way on my path and learned a lot in the ensuing years, I am still proud of a lot of the words I put to paper back then. One of the essays was on the topic of reconciling living in an urban environment with the need for a connection with Nature, especially for someone trying to live a Pagan life. Basically, it takes a conscious effort to see, acknowledge and honor those natural connections necessary when you are an "urban pagan". It's easy to lose the smell of a single flower amidst the fumes of fossil fuels, but it's crucial to seek out that bloom and breathe it in deeply. That was the first metaphysical elbow in the ribs.

About the same time as these writing surfaced we had a discussion at our local Pagan Night Out that concerned comparing and contrasting "old school" paganism/craft with "new school". Inevitably the discussion turned to whether "techie" tools interfered with a practitioner's relationship with the Earth and Nature. I think most of us agreed that it is hard to escape the use of more modern and technological tools these days, but that it is of vital importance to seek and find that balance of the new, with the ancient, primal forces of the Earth that sustain us. Okay, second nudge received.

Most recently a wonderful Fire Keeper that I know related a parable that further solidified the notion that this awareness of Nature was something I needed to turn my attention to. The tale went something like this, and I apologize if I don't get the details exactly right, but I know I got the gist of it:

There was once a village that was situated near a tall mountain and a life-filled river. One beautiful summer day, most all of the people had gathered in town for a sporting event. The game was loud and raucous and the crowd was even more so. The spectators cheered and sang and celebrated, and in fact became so caught up in the celebration and the game that they failed to notice the huge wave of lava that was flowing down the side of the rumbling mountain and heading straight for their village. There was a farmer, however, that lived near the river and he and his wife had not joined the rest of the village at the game. The farmer preferred working his land, and the quiet of nature to the loud and boisterous event in town. As the farmer gazed at the river that day, he saw that the fish in the river were swimming quite the opposite of their usual direction, and were in fact swimming rapidly away from the village and the mountain. The farmer packed up his wife and belongings straight away and followed the fish. The two of them survived while the rest of the village perished in the onslaught of lava. The farmer had a relationship with the Earth and he paid attention to her message when she spoke to him through the fish.

Third time's the charm? I hope so, because I know to what lengths the Universe will go when it seems you're not getting the message.

I guess I have been caught up in my own toils and troubles too much lately. Too much time spent indoors over the past cold months of winter has taken its toll on my relationship with the Earth Mother as well. But Spring is alive and ready to burst into bloom now. The days are warmer, and the nights are getting there. The dogwood trees, always among the first to show their blossoms in this part of the country, are in full beauty and sending showers of white and pink flowers down like rain. It's time to emerge from this self-imposed cocoon and revel in all that the Mother offers. And wow, what an offering she made with the most recent full moon. Huge and bright, glowing with an ethereal light that reminded us all that we are only a small part of this great creation. Humans may want to think that they have dominion over everything on Earth, but you only have to look up at a moon like that, the so-called super moon,  to realize that it is Nature that has dominion over us.

The Earth is coming alive, shaking the mantle of winter off of her shoulders, and making us sit up and pay attention. Or at least trying to. We are her children and we owe her respect, we owe her love, and we owe her for our very lives.  I think I got her message. It's time to renew my connection to the Earth. It's time to be proactive in the care of her. I keep a slip of paper taped up on my desk these days, just to remind me in case I start getting lost again. It reads, "Don't forget to watch the fish."

It's a good reminder for all of us.

Words Are Powerful

As I drove west on the highway the other night, I passed a billboard. Usually, I ignore the things, hating the way they block the views of the landscape. But for some reason this particular sign caught my attention. It was very simple. Just 8 words, a plain, solid color background, no embellishments.  No reason this billboard should have set itself apart from the rest that had been relegated to the land of nuisances. But it did catch my eye, and it stirred my thoughts.

"Words are Powerful. Watch how you use them."

That was the message that jumped out at me. I've learned enough over the years to know that there's something more than mere chance working when something captures you and captivates you. I've come to understand that sometimes the Goddess (or Universe, One Source, Spirit, God, or whatever name you use for that force greater than ourselves) whispers to you, sometimes she screams, and sometimes she just hits you upside the head with a 2x4. I'm still learning to pay attention to the whispers, and therefore avoid the screaming and head whomping. I decided to treat this billboard message as a whisper, just to be on the safe side.

When I read those 8 words, my first thought was that they were meant as a warning. Watch what you say, because words can hurt. They can and they do. There are so many ways they can hurt, too. There are the hurtful words of the childhood bully that sing-song in a child's psyche long after they stop being a child. A few years ago,  I saw a television show that addressed the issues of bullying and teasing. Statistics and analysis were interspersed with interviews with actual victims of such treatment. I vividly recall a woman in her late forties breaking down into tears when she recounted the taunts and teasings she endured in school. Nearly thirty years since she'd been in school, and yet those wounds were as raw as the day they were inflicted on her. Words are powerful, indeed. There are the racially motivated slurs slung about by those motivated by their own fear and ignorance. There are the angry insults hurled by a parent, friend or lover, that cannot be undone, no matter how much they are regretted afterwards. So many ways we've learned to hurt each other with words.

Even when no harm is meant, careless, thoughtless words can wound as well. Like telling a child that they're bad, instead of explaining that the thing they did was bad. Like making a joke about someone's weight, or some other physical feature. You might think it's funny. The object of your humor might even laugh at the time. But those words cut deep. How often do we toss words about, let them fall where they may, and never consider the damage they do? 

These thoughts ran through my head for a few miles and then the direction of my musings shifted. Yes, words are powerful in the harmful sense, but they can be even more powerful when used with positive intent. When you go about your life hurrying from here to there, it's easy to miss the opportunity to uplift and heal with your words. In this technological world, we, as humans, are experiencing a profound disconnect with each other.  We are cocooning ourselves in a solitary world because we are too busy to slow down, reach out with love and compassion and use our words for good.

A recent episode at a Journey of the Spirit event resounded with me deeply. As part of a lesson on "Happiness In Spite of Circumstance",  the participants turned to the person in a neighboring seat, and related to them their life story in 60 seconds. It was a lesson in perspective, but it made me cognizant of something more. The fact is, you never really know what someone's story is. You never know what burdens they carry. And you never know how much healing and love you can impart to someone with just a few simple words. "You look wonderful, today."  " I love your smile." "You are so patient." "I'm glad I know you." Or even just, "I love you."
  A wise woman I know tells me that people don't tell each other they love them enough. She says the very act of saying those words opens and heals your own heart, as well. So yes, words are powerful. Words spoken in anger or derision can wound. But words spoken with loving intent are even more powerful. Those "words from the heart" can heal the wounds.

Words are powerful. Watch how you use them.