7
Sep
Last week my post for PNC-Minnesota on Temple of the River’s Irish Cottage House drew a lot of attention. My editor says that to date, the post has the highest traffic. This may have something to do with me submitting it to Stumbleupon. That said, it’s definitely getting some strong blog reactions. Wild Hunt opened debate about other Pagan temples in the United States. Over at Aedicula Antinoi, it prompted serious thought about what might go into building a temple. I realized from observing reactions to my post that I’m a bit of a physical-space agnostic. I vaguely remember dreaming of having a ritual room all my own; now I literally just stock a tray and work my magic in my kitchen, on my balcony or load a bag and go to the park. Perhaps because I dwell on a different wavelength from my fellow Pagans, I bear different needs when it comes to physical space. So while a lot of people are really excited about any temple, on some level I see it with a bit of concern: maintain well, and plan ahead, or all that effort is lost.
Ah, there it is. “Planning ahead” and “maintaining well” aren’t concepts that come up much in Pagan discussion, especially as they’re side effects of formal organization. There’s a trend towards a sort of mental and attitude declutter, and accomplishments like Temple of the River’s may impact that. I hope so.
2. Urban Wicca
3. A book on elemental magic – I know they’re already out there, but I’m working on some stuff in my own practice and I will have stuff to add to the body of current works
4. A spellbook written completely in rhyming poetry, a la The Crone’s Book of Words
.
I’m sure there’s other stuff I will write along the way, but those are the four books on Wicca I want to write.
Since adolescence, I am prone to Charley Horses. Usually this happens at night, after sleep – and usually after a fair amount of stress that I fail to follow with yoga, deep breathing and a whole lot of stretching. It does happen more when I’m walking more, or doing anything. The first few times I got them, it was treated dismissively. “Oh, it’s just a cramp.”
Mere cramps do not cause me to wake up, screaming and swearing in pain. Mere cramps do not sneak up in me while I’m in the deep end of the pool during water aerobics and scare the living hell out of me (guess what happened Monday – in both legs at the same time?) And apparently there’s been advances – instead of heating my leg, I need to ice it? Heat’s always worked before.
I’m just annoyed because I’m going to have to yet again alter my workout routine, and while I’ve been getting places with it – my arms are showing hints of muscle tone these days – it seems like the to-do list on the stuff I must do for my body is getting as long as it is for my writing career, my perfume business and my education.
30
Aug
Just a running list of various SNAFUs that happen to coincide with Mercury Retrograde:
- Confusion at the local science fiction meetup I administrate – from who had the DVDs to when they’d get there, all stuff beyond anyone’s actual control (and that prompted me to send two texts to my husband: “I miss you,” followed by “I really fucking miss you.”)
- The plug on my laptop breaking, forcing us to replace it for the second time.
- Yesterday, my laptop screen breaking for no discernable reason – I bumped it, but nowhere near the screen.
- Being subjected to some of the most painfully awkward social attempts I’ve ever experienced, ever. And I used to work in retail.
I’m sure there’s more coming, but mostly I’m focused on the laptop right now. Given that I’ve already replaced the battery in lieu of getting a new laptop, only to have to replace the plug… I’m thinking I should just give up and get a new laptop, hopefully a smaller one than the one I’ve been toting around. Also, Mike doesn’t believe me when I say that the laptop burns me, so hopefully I can get my hands on a cooling pack or something so I get more out of it later.
Update: My trusty Droid’s alarm went off with the program I use for meditation. It however would not allow me to shut the alarm off, no button, nothing in settings, NADA. I finally had to pull the battery because it was also preventing the phone from shutting down.
I have gotten a comment or two about my liberal use of the insult “douchebag.” I believe that Jill on Feministe defends the use of the word by feminists just fine - douching is a terrible practice that does long term harm to women’s health, suggesting that women who do so aren’t exactly on their own side, either. To refer to someone as a “douchebag” is in common parlance gender neutral, and is in fact not connected with women’s genitalia except in reference to it being harmful/likely to spread yeast infections. People I apply this term to do make me itch, especially Joe Francis.
I will say that someone telling me specifically what words I am and am not allowed to use is a rather oppressive practice in itself, especially when under the guise of “thou art not feminist enough.” Yes, words do have significant power – and that’s why I choose my insults with consideration.
For reference, here are insults I consider perfectly acceptable for myself to use:
- Douchebag
- Asshat
- Dumbass
- Barbara Streisand
- SUV Driver
- Jackass
- Evangelist
There are others, but I’ll stop there.
Clearly, if you dislike my vocabulary you don’t have to read. But you are not within rights to tell me what words I am and am not allowed to use – and you do not get to say whether or not I am a feminist. That’s my call.
I set aside the loud pentacle-wearing approach to Wicca several years ago, not just for the sake of my job, but because I’ve gradually found my brethren that do take this approach mortifying. Even so, I’m not exactly in the closet about what I write, and if someone asks me my religion, I state it straight out, without blinking.
That said, in some circles I travel I don’t talk about myself much. I guess that the genuinely curious will find my blogs and end up knowing quite a lot about me as a human being, and the rest aren’t terribly interested in me if they’re not asking me questions. At least, that’s how I think it works.
So yesterday, when an acquaintance assumed I was Mormon, I guess I shouldn’t have been totally surprised. It’s hilarious, but still surprising – and I have absolutely no idea how he got that impression.
Gnostic Conjure just led me to the Traditional Folk Magic Festival. It happens over my birthday weekend. I had wanted to go to Paris for my 35th birthday, but since I got married a month after my 34th, we decided to shift my trip. (Husband is theoretically OK with me taking vacations alone. In practice, notsomuch.) This is tempting, although it’s doubtful I could raise the plane fair and class fees in time. I’m bookmarking this and hoping it happens again – I love New Orleans, and I haven’t been able to pay my respects since before that big storm.
16
Aug
To my ancestors, I remember you
and send you my love as I resurrect your visions in this life.
The world is different now.
I give you the past, and you may rule it -
and in exchange, give me the present and future,
Because the divide of the universe makes it so I must live beyond you.
Live in the past and know you are remembered -
Make me proud, and I will do the same for you.
- Diana Rajchel
This came to me today, one of those whispered visions I get while making tea and minding my own business.
Obviously, I know about Wild Hunt and its related sites. I’m also finding some really good blogs on Hoodoo, and thinking a lot about how magic practicing American Wiccans like myself at some point face up to how very much of our own practices come straight from Hoodoo. I am loving RuneSoup, as it’s putting into words things I just haven’t found the juevos1 to say, with a better grasp of the corporate concepts I’ve been wanting to integrate. But I want to know: what is really, really good?
- I like juevos as opposed to the English balls. Since juevos means, literally eggs, it applies to women, who have eggs, or to men, since it’s slang for testacles. [↩]
In early 2003, I spent a long car ride taking heckling from an Indian version of Paris and Nicole. The topic? My not dating despite my divorce finalization for an entire two months. I said little in response to this, realizing that their cultural arrogance was not my problem and also realizing said arrogance made the conversation a brick wall. We stopped at an occult shop I frequented those days to pick up things for a “fix my love life” spell or somesuch. The girls stared in amazement as I walked into the shop – and immediately into the arms of a man standing in the middle of the shop.