The Last Day...
Today is my last day of work for 18 days. Tonight after my appointment at Keyano College (the local community college), I will officially be on the road and on my way home. I miss being home, spending time with my family, so the waking up tomorrow in my own bed is going to be fantastic. I'm going to take my iBook with me, to write when I get the urge, and I'm thinking about picking up a cheap camera for the vacation, so perhaps I'll have some interesting stuff to post when I get back.
Ciao.
T
Born to Lose
There are things that are mine, and mine alone. I was poking around on iTunes, and ended up signing up for an account to download songs. I found an album there that I haven't listened to in years, literally. Some older Black Sabbath (from 1987). People think that the band died and stopped recording with the expulsion of John (aka Ozzy), but such is not the case. IMHO, Tony Iomi, lead guitarist, didn't truly develope as a guitar player until long after. Anyway, I'm wrapped in the blissful, delicate shroud that used to get me through those years in high school, that many might remember as I stalked the halls, with my headphones on, seemingly lost in my own thoughts. It was music that got me through my youth without major mishap, that let me disconnect myself from the world at large, and I think it's music that has been missing from me lately.
Is It Thursday Yet?
This is driving me nuts. Yesterday's post was an attempt at creativity that fell way short. I've been feeling the ambition to do something, but not inspired. I feel like I'm always on the verge of something, but there's something holding me back. So, yesterday I was trying to write, got another idea and tried writing that at the same time. Just to see if either would become something. Not working, I got a third idea (...there's that three again) and tried that. Whatever it is that's got me so twisted has to stop.
Today's Rune:
Wunjo -Glory
I've come back to write this after taking some time this morning to think about it. "What's blocking me?" I asked as I drew the rune and at first it didn't seem to make any sense. But now I see it. It's my obsession with the end of things, with the glory of completing, with becoming/creating something "above" the common. It's my drive to surpass the mundane, to be better and do better. I forget that part of the glory is the details, the journey. I often skip or miss the simpler aspect of things, focussing on the bigger picture, the end result. My blog is a good example. It started out as more or less a repository for my thoughts, for my emotions, and just a place to unload my head. Lately, however, I find myself holding back because talking about the same things: work, work and "I wish I was at home". I had come to the assumption that my blog had to be something worthy of my higher mind, when in fact, it doesn't. It should represent my whole mind. The glory comes in the whole victory, not the individual battles.
I read an article this morning about wunjo that helped me see this:
Suffering is NOT the defining quality of life. Wunjo is there too! Despite their often difficult life circumstances (imagine watching your family slowly starve with food, in the form of the seed grain necessary for long-term survival, right there under your noses), our Heathens ancestors were able to understand this, overcome depression and fatalism, and live vibrant lives that still shine in glory a millenium later. We well-fed Moderns need to ditch our existential Angst and imitate them.
-Jordsvin (
http://realmagick.com/articles/78/2178.html)
Drop the need for higher purpose and find life. I've become so distracted by the end result, I can't complete the process. Tonight, I'm going for a walk, rain or shine, and I'm going to lay in the grass and just feel the world around me. Listen and be without thinking.
I Am Wind
I
I will not pass the easy death, nor flinch
'Neath that veil, when finally it covers
My eyes and ne'er I know my lids to blink
Lest they hang upon the Maiden's mantle.
I will not fall upon my knees and shriek,
Nor cry that my time is too soon ended;
I would stand upon the hill as I watch
The winged ladies fly down to meet me
And arm 'round each be brought to that great hall
And stand proud before Gods assembled.
II
Melancholic mind be gone! Too long you
Have lazed the garden and taken my wine;
Have fallen baccal abed and bestrew
And strangled out the thoughts were that not mine!
I am not so low as you would make me!
I will not fall to your opiate trance,
And find my skills and wits are left to flee,
Unattended thus by your subservance.
III
Come Air, from the east, bringer of breath and thought, carrier of inspiration and ravager of the plains. I know your power, and can taste the subtle scents of far away things. With you, I have traveled far and high, known what was to come, and been empowered by your touch. Yours is a nature of playfulness and exploration. Music is made when you move the trees, and songs are sung by your subjects. I have heard your shrieks and howls, and seen the lands buffeted by your power.
Altered States
"Don't resist your nature." Easier said than done.
I had a good conversation with Sonja last weekend about ego and id, about Deepak Chopra and "the watcher". She explained it (because I haven't read the Seven Spiritual Laws) as that part of your brain, a superconsciousness that watches what's going on, analyzing and overseeing. He is that part of the mind that, while dreaming reminds you that it is only a dream and tries to change things. He is the awareness of the self. I know this part of the brain very well. She explained him as "the true self", the soul. An interesting theory. I've come to know my mind fairly well, I'd say. I'm aware of the watcher, and have been for a very long time. I'd even given him a name. Is it him that started this blog, I wonder? But I don't think of him as my "true self", as my soul. Although my thoughts and processes, my every move is seen by him, affected by him, there is still a part of me that watches him, that interacts with him, debates him and analyzes him. Perhaps there are more watchers. Perhaps I worry too much about split consciousness and impending mental instability. Perhaps I'm over complicating things. I know other people don't see me the way I do. No one knows "me", but many people have many different clues. Strategy and defense.
It's almost like standing in a room of mirrors, where you see the reflection who sees the reflection who sees the reflection.... On into eternity.
There Are Worse Things
I don't feel very magical. I put my energy into the Lughnasadh wand dedication, and frankly, I haven't been feeling the same since. I feel quite mundane. I haven't been writing much, because I'd decided that if I was only going to complain about work, I shouldn't bother. I want to write something more worth while. After all, I don't hate my job, and I don't hate having a place of my own. It could be alot worse.
One of the guys I have on my crew has been missing alot of work lately, having personal issues at home with his wife and that sort of thing. I sent him home this morning because though he'd missed the last two days, he hadn't slept all night, and was a safety hazard to himself. I don't think he's coming back. He's got big issues he needs to work out, and I hope he makes the right desicions. Good luck, Stacey.
In 6 days (including today, because it isn't 8am yet) I'm on holidays. 18 daysd of relaxing, sleeping, fishing and seeing the country side. I'm looking forward to the journey. Travel and I are old friends.
Fox
It was a joyous afternoon. The company I work for has been talking about a golf tournament for about three weeks, but I declined, expecting that I would be too busy. Even this morning, when they were filling spots for people who had cancelled, I said "no." Last minute (literally) I decided to go, and had a good time golfing: fresh air, country side, gorgeous day... foxes. We were on the third hole when I saw a fox run across the green from 300 yards away. I thought that was intersting. When I got within 30 yards of the hole, the same fox walked out of the woods and walked the fairway not ten feet from me. Better yet. When I reached the seventh tee, there was a group of four kits (baby foxes), spring pups, mostly grown, playing in the march just off the tee box. I must have spent half an hour watching the yearling foxes play, and wished for nothing else like I wished I could join them.
Holiday
The sun hasn't come up yet today. It's getting to be that time of year when I wake up and it's still night. On the one hand, I don't wake up before my alarm anymore, on the other, I don't feel like I should be out of bed. Well, worse than usual. But I just have to get through these next ten days, and I'm going fishing. I'll have 18 days to sleep, relax, drive around the country side and unwind. Gorgeous.
Chapter 6
I started writing Chapter 6 of MOTM, and I'm drained. I posted the first bit, roughly three pages, if anyone is interested. Again, reliving these memories is tough and seems to take a lot out of me. It's interesting though, that once I get into the flow of writing, how I can remember the sounds, the smells, the conversations....
Intentions
I've been feeling a strong sense of purpose today, mixed with a bit of Deja Vu. Probably because I slept most of the day yesterday, or perhaps it was relaxing for a day, but I feel potent today. Diane left this morning for home, after a short visit to my second home. It was good to have her here, if even just for the day. It makes this place a little more "home".
I'm a nice guy. I'm also a sucker for people with overwhelming problems, and the worst part is, I know it. A girl I work with (not directly) lives in an apartment with at least 8 other people. It's a three bedroom apartment. She was "set-up" with a friend of a roommate, who moved in, and seems to think he shares a room with her now. She wakes up every morning with him in her bed, and every day she tells him to leave her alone. I told her today (against the insistent voice, aka: Trynn) that if she ever wanted any peace and quiet, she could hang out here. I know what it's like not to have a space of your own, and I hate crowds and can't imagine having to live in one. At the end of the month she's moving in with another friend at the end of the month. I have only noble intentions, knowing that she needs help, but I always get dragged into peoples' dramas.
Tonight I think I'm going to work on my BOS a bit. I don't think I should let this feeling have go without doing some work. I'm also going to call Sonja tonight, because we haven't talked in a while, it seems, and I do enjoy her company.
Saturday Morning
Ah, saturday morning. Normally, I'd be at work right now, but I took the day off. The company I work for has a limit for the amount of time you can work without time off, and though I hadn't reached it, I would have had to take a day off right away. So Diane came up, and I get to spend a day in Fort McMurray with her, seeing the sights.
I'm looking forward to unwinding a bit, to being able to take time for the things I want to do, like work on my BOS. What I really am getting tired of is complaining about not having time. I think I'm going to start training myself to rely on less sleep or something. Or I'll just stop working these insanely long shifts.
My sister has started a blog ( http://chrisonly.blogspot.com/ ). It'll be nice to be able to keep up with her on a more regular basis. For some reason, niether of us like to talk on the phone.
Oh, and feverfew.... I found an herb store in town, and picked up a bag of dried feverfew to try for the headaches I've been having. The stuff tastes terrible (like uncoated, liquid aspirin), but it works quickly. I hate taking pills, and hate chemicals, so finding something to help with this is good.
Promise
What day is it? I've been so busy with work and everything the passed couple of day, I don't even know what I'm doing other than sleeping and working. Oh yeah, it's Thursday. I should have gone home today, but I elected to stay, while my boss is on holidays... or is it because I'm going on holidays when he gets back... or because I'm a giant sucker. Take your pick, I guess. On the other hand, I talked Diane into coming up tomorrow, so I'm taking Saturday to spend some time with her. Then it's back to work for Sunday, until I finally go home on the 18th.
I went to the park last night, with a container of berries and cookies from my Lughnasadh ritual and made a small offering by the river. I left then in the bushes, by the bank, and thanked the gods for a prosperous year. Simple, yet fullfilling.
Tonight I feel like listening to some music and relaxing. I'm supposed to go out with some people from work, and I said I would, but I think I've changed my mind. We'll see. I should do laundry.
And so, I leave you tonight with a little Shelley, from Prometeus Unbound, Act III Scene I ln 1-17:
Ye congregated powers of heaven, who share
The glory and the strength of him ye serve,
Rejoice! henceforth I am omnipotent.
All else had been subdued to me; alone
The soul of man, like unextinguished fire,
Yet burns towards heaven with fierce reproach, and doubt,
And lamentation, and reluctant prayer,
Hurling up insurrection, which might make
Our antique empire insecure, though built
On eldest faith, and hell's coeval, fear;
And though my curses through the pendulous air,
Like snow on herbless peaks, fall flake by flake,
And cling to it; though under my wrath's night
It climb the crags of life, step after step,
Which wound it, as ice wounds unsandalled feet,
It yet remains supreme o'er misery,
Aspiring, unrepressed, yet soon to fall;
Research
I'd read that one should keep a tool on their person for 24 hours after dedication. So this last night, after my ritual, I slept with it under my pillow and woke up feeling not only refreshed, but contented. I actually woke up smiling. I fastened the wand to a strap and put it around my neck, under my shirt, where it has been all day, over my heart. It's empowering, really, bringing a bit of my "work" to work. I've felt energized all day.
I've been reading the history of the Germanic tribes according to
http://www.thetroth.org/resources/ourtroth/ in my spare time today. It's been an interesting read, so far, discovering some of the older rituals and mythologies, drawing correlations between them and what has been established as newer wicca traditions, as well as leading into the Norse myths. I wonder though, what with Sonja's insights into "true histories" how much of it really is established history. It seems authentic enough, but the debate as to where the Indo-European movement originated bothered me. Discounting a theory on the grounds that "it would open the way to much discussion of which elements of the Elder Troth were originally Indo-European and which were absorbed from the native ways of the North" seems to be a little ridiculous. On the other hand, being somewhat of a nomad, and from a stance of cultural intermarriage and diversity, for me the issue isn't really that important. I agree that we should have a sense of our peoples histories, but tracking the movements of a people that spawned almost all of the northern European clans seems inconsequencial. it's impact on where I am and where I want to be are at this time minimal. I am more concerned about how the traditions developed.
Wolf
Clarity today. Disturbing clarity. It's the kind of day where you see the situations around you for what they are, be it providential or not. My sense feel open, my mind receptive. That's all. I feel like the hunter, laying in the underbrush waiting for prey.
My Mind is a Wellspring
When I moved, I hung the sage bundle I had on the wall near my door. Since then, I really haven't had any vivid dreams, as I did when I had it hanging above my bed at camp. And to tell the truth, I didn't notice. The night before last, while I was cleaning my room, vacuuming and washing the walls, I moved the bundle to the wall above my bed, at my head. And last night I had one of the more vivid dreams I remember having. Not only was it richly detailed, I remember alot of it. So, yeah... sage.
The fuzzy, disenchanted, slothish feelings I've been having are gone. I feel myself again, but cynical. The idea of ritual is bothering me, for some reason.
Trynn looked out the window down on the flowered garden, spots of yellow and purple flowers looked back at him from between the scattered green bushes. He thought wistfully of the old garden, the tall trees and shrubs, the winding paths. All gone now, he thought. Tali was down there, among her flowers, placing a plate of bread and a goblet of wine on the small stone alter. She was wearing her dark green robes, her hood down letting her straight black hair fall around her shoulders. Xanthesan walked there too, he noticed, sprinkling water around the perimeter of the garden. Trynn scoffed.
Pushing himself from his seat, he stretched and walked out the door and down the winding, plank staircase to the ground below. He moved quietly toward the edge of the garden and watched silently as Tali and Xanthesan worked their ritual. He didn't see the necessity of ritual, the gods didn't need our acknowledgement to do their work. But he would not interrupt.
Xanthesan had placed the water on the alter, and taken up a dish of salt, walking the same perimeter, sprinkling as he went, saying, "I call on you, creature of Earth, to protect and consecrate this place; may it be free of negativity and harm." He repeated his mantra until the circle was complete, closed and facing north, he raised the bowl in silent salute and placed it on the alter. He turned to pick up a bowl of sand, with a smoldering piece of charcoal in the centre when he spotted the elf, leaning against the tree, his arms crossed. Xanthesan nodded silently to his friend and continued.
Again making the circle, Xanthesan sprinkled incense onto the charcoal, the grey, fragrant smoke trailing behind. He repeated his words. "I call on you, creature of Air, to protect and consecrate this place; may it be free from negativity and harm." Finishing the circle, Xanthesan again raised the bowl, facing east, in silent salute. He placed the bowl on the alter, next to a candle. The circle was complete, and Trynn looked at the small circle. He watched the two move inside, wondering about the purpose of it all. He could work magic without the cleansing, without the robes and without the ceremony. He turned and went inside.
Some time later, Xanthesan walked in the door, still wearing his green robes, his face bright and beaming, his shoulders straight. "You should have joined us," Xanthesan said casually.
"I'm not one for religion," Trynn replied, picking up a cup of tea and sipping it slowly.
"I know. It's not just about the religion," the young man said, sitting across from the elf. "It's about connecting to the seasons and the world. It's about touching and becoming a greater consciousness."
"I can do that without the pomp," Trynn said over the rim of the steaming cup. "I prefer the simpler days of offerings and meditation. By making things so complicated, I feel you take away from the true purpose of magic."
Xanthesan looked sternly at Trynn. "It isn't about magic. It's about reaffirming our devotion to and acknowledging the gods." Trynn started to open his mouth but Xanthesan waved a hand at him to silence him. "Trynn, you can't just sit around, picking apart everyone's ideas. You don't have to wait for the sabbats to make offerings, and you don't have to wait for alignments to do magic. I'm sorry, my friend, but it seems all you do anymore is brood, and sit and wait." The was a heavy silence as the two stared at each other for a minute, and Xanthesan looked away. "The past is important, but you're missing the opportunities right now."
That feels better. I wrote Sonja an e-mail this morning on the subject of ritual and the cyclical influence of Catholicism on modern Wicca (sort of; I was getting to this point when I realized I was late for work). I was thinking this morning about how irrelevant the whole concept of ritual and ceremony seemed, about how Lughnasadh (or Loaf Mass or Lammas) research was less about the day itself and more about the colour scheme. Further I was thinking about how the whole ritual of sabbats seemed heavily catholic in style, but came to the conclusion this morning that this may be largely due to many of the churches beginnings: Pagan worship. Since the church adopted many pagan holidays as their own, isn't it also reasonable that they adopted many pagan customs? The alter, the sprinkling of water, incense, candles.... The Romans were notorious for their lavish pagan rituals and sacrifices, temple leaders becoming christian priests would incorporate many of their own practices. And these practices would be adopted and changed again from a largely christian population becoming pagan...
*Edit*
For those of you who may be new to my head, or just haven't picked up on it yet, the argument that happened in the conversation between Trynn and Xanthesan really took place, as I was writing it. My duality (or quintality) allows me to fervently hold many stubborn, though opposing, points of view at the same time.
