Perhaps not here…

I won’t be around as much as I normally am, my dear friends, for just a little while. I am well, and my boy is well, but we have things happening at home which require my full attention and I am not in a good place just now. I’ll say more when I get back. Much love.

Life Supervenes

As you run along, doing what you can, thinking about things that are sometimes fairly far from home, you can lay yourself open to getting blown up, metaphorically speaking - the most unlikely things can happen without any warning.

Amazingly, this has happened to me this week; utterly affirming the belief I hold that life won’t let you get complacent. Time to think like my life depended on it - watch me up my game!

I’m just glad for the Mercian Gathering coming up - a chance to unwind and centre myself, do my affirmations, dance, pray, sleep, talk with my friends, all in the protection of the circle.

I’d wish this feeling on all I know - pulse racing, heart thumping, adrenaline, brighter vision, the whole nine yards. Blessings!

Feelin’ the lurve!

My dear Shepton Witch has most kindly nominated TGW for a blog award… thank you, my angel!

In the spirit of the agreement I need to post the rules, and then make my own nominations! How exciting! The rules are:

1. The winner can put the logo on their blog
2. Link the person you received the award from
3. Nominate at least 7 other blogs
4. Put links of those blogs on yours
5. Leave a message on the blogs nominated

I know that in this world we live in, many of the people I’d like to have nominated have been tagged already. I’d like to have nominated Foxchild, and Abdur, and Seshat, and Shepton Witch herself!! So with the proviso in place that I’d've nominated you girls and boys if I could, here are my nominations:

Sabrina, at Pagan Dawn. Depsite feeling herself to be a beginner on the Path, Sabrina is consistently profound and thoughtful about pagan issues, and loves to read, and to discuss her reading!

Brian at House of Inanna. A man who is not afraid to grasp the nettle of difficult topics, Brian makes a convincing argument and is strong in the field of Goddess worship.

Beaweaver at Weaving the Web. An old friend and sparring partner, Beweaver is astonishingly frank about her life, but never mundane; a fascinating journey described with spirit, verve and no self-pity whatsoever. A recommend on so many different levels.

Tess at Anchors and Masts. Tess is one of the most evenhanded people I’ve ever spoken with; her point of view is always considered, principled and intelligent. For enlightenment and good fellowship, click here!

Andy at Somerset Pagan. Andy’s brave and sensitive stance on all sorts of matters make his blog compulsive reading. It isn’t easy some times to take in everything - Andy is a very detailed writer, his words are descriptive and full of the quintessence of him. It’s wonderful to be watching his journey.

Murcielago at Goddess Waxing. Murcielago is a fascinating character, and a scholar, so has many interesting academic sidebars on Goddesses generally, and his pantheon in particular.

Owlish at Nocturnal Tendencies. Owlish speaks so clearly; it’s a pleasure to be allowed to hear about her days and doings. She has a straight eye and a straight pen - nothing escapes her notice.

I hope these folks will spread the happiness further - how lovely to be able to pass on some recognition!

Revenge

Is the belief in heaven and hell an internalised wish for revenge on those who do us wrong?

I was thinking today about the terrible accounts of survivors of Srebrinice which I watched on the television at the time, and on the dreadful liberties taken by the Russian troops in Georgia, a sovereign state, just this month.

My particular attention was focused on those doing such unspeakable things to innocent people, who had done them personally no harm whatsoever. What made them continue with the attacks on men, women and children past the point of torture?

A man described on British television news how he had been beaten, and his sister raped, in front of their father, who had to sit and watch and do nothing, on pain of death. For what? They were civilian, and children at that. 

Brian at The House of Inanna speaks on this subject with force and clarity today, and I commented; I remembered then that I had begun this post and it was saved in my drafts folder. I want to finish it now, because I believe we need to try and face these things and to talk about them, in every walk of society. Darfur? Is this beleaguered region in the news much? No. And if what’s happening there was happening in London, how different the story would be.

Where do humans get the ability to fundamentally ignore the evil happening a world away? Nowhere’s very far from anywhere now; isn’t that what we’re told? 

I try hard not to make this an issue about violence against women, but really, it is. We are perceived to be weak both on our own account and on the account of our children, and therefore a target for special cruelty. Beatrice, in Much Ado, when faced with the disgrace of her cousin, berates herself, saying, ‘Oh, if I were a man!’. I don’t want to be a man. I think most men might disassociate themselves from men like these.

I want men of violence to stop using their sexuality against women and children in war zones, and against their fellow men by extension. 

So when we consider the Christian embodiment of Hell, is it that we want such perpetrators to burn eternally? Perhaps. I don’t understand the mad corruption that comes over a person to cause them to act so atrociously. They are truly the furthest from grace in such a state. In any case, neo-pagans don’t have a hell to which to condemn the guilty; so what then do we do?

Perhaps we ought to act here, now, in this life. One innocent life saved must be worth it - or am I being unbelievably idealistic?

Clear Water

In ‘Joy of the Waxing Moon’, Seshat talks about our ritual last evening; as you see, she found it amazingly helpful. The ritual was so powerful and transformative that I don’t think I can be coherent about what it means to me.

When one explores the concept of perfect love and perfect trust it has the capacity to frighten; it means a great deal, and can’t be removed once given. Perfect trust in another confers power; without the perfect love, you have the possibility for abuse and for advantage to be taken. However, the ability to step out onto the cloud and see that it will bear you sets one apart. Things may be accomplished in this state that would be unthinkable in mundane life.

Seshat and I were able to see far across our own experience last evening; we were given an overview, as if we were standing on a high tower looking down on the map of our lives at present. We were able to see what was true, say what was true; we were able to listen. Many things were made clear.

We were able to know what to ask for - this is an underrated ability, and rarely comes right. Seshat is far better than I at framing a well-turned request - mine are fancies and feelings more than actual facts, strangely for one so decisive in regular life. We asked for the things we needed, and we feel we were listened to and answered. The ways are open.

Thanks be to the Goddess and the God.

Rising Full

Seshat and I are working tonight, with the rising full moon. This is rolled up with Lammas, and the theme is perfect love and perfect trust.

There’s an enormous amount of energy about at the moment, and I think we both feel it. There’s much afoot. The dizzying implications of some of the possibilities are astounding us both.

I don’t think we’re the only ones that feel this huge positivity; it’s like being plugged into the mains. Friends have said how much they’re achieving and progressing, and how positive things are looking for them too.

These breakers come rolling by quite regularly but you need to be suited up and ready to catch some surf. We’re going to hit this one right on the money.

I’m so energised and excited by the prospect that I’m jumping about hardly able to concentrate. Funny, I don’t remember ever feeling this enthused about going to Church. Interesting, no?

The Supernatural in the Natural

Marya at A Spell In Wales has been discussing this phenomenon recently, through the medium of Welsh poetry. In her inimitable and evocative style, she brings to life a Wales long gone, but with us in spirit, never far away, liminal and almost tangible, but removed from us physically, never to return. It is a tantalising picture.

When we’re flying around like paper kites, getting in the way of others and having others cross our paths, we feel stultified, despite the extreme speed at which we’re travelling. REM put it well; ‘…so fast, so numb that you can’t even feel’.

Tess over at Anchors and Masts has written a great post exploring the premise that if you don’t believe you will see beauty, then it is forever a closed door to you. You need to know what you see contains beauty, to feel it in your heart, and to seek it out. She writes:

“…you will not see beauty unless you believe in it. If you believe you will see ugliness and despair, then that is what you will see.”

 How right she is.

Even the unluckiest of us has the chance to see green things growing, see ancient architecture, see water, watch the weather. These are the very most basic elements of the divine in the mundane that we can avail ourselves of. And perhaps, they are the elements to which we should turn if we ever forget what it is we’re about. The building blocks, if you like, that form the basis of the bridge between our everyday lives and the realisation that we live in the midst of a miracle.

Look closely at the perfection of the rain on a leaf; think about the ages and the rain and the peoples that have come and gone around the oldest building in your town. Feel the years in the rocks, and at the circles and in the woods. Know you’re part of it; you don’t own any part of it, but rather, it owns you. We do not ride on the back of this world, it carries us because it can.

The worlds that went before, the worlds embodied in other languages and prayers, are there for us to feel if only we can shut up for long enough and allow the impressions to sink in. Fast, numb, and missing out. Such a world out there, all for the stopping and listening!

It appears nobody is immune!

The usually calm and measured tones of Jason Pitzl-Waters were somewhat disturbed yesterday - and I don’t blame him. The reason? Make Me a Christian.

Channel 4, home of the sober documentary and measured social debate have really thrown us a curve-ball with this one. It’s an interesting premise, and one that might work well as a live debate, but as a TV show? Come on. The preacher is a motormouth who is rabidly convinced his point of view is the correct one - essential if one is to be an evangeliser of any stripe. And the marks, *excuse me*, contestants? Check out the resumes here.

When you look at the exploitative nature of reality (reality?) TV, you have to laugh, but there are a hundred people lined up behind you who think it is a valid form of social commentary. And really, from a sick and twisted perspective, I suppose it is. However you cut it, the net result can only be to do the religious and social perspectives espoused by the participants a disservice.

Of course, there’s got to be a witch in there somewhere. This one is a lapdancer with a shoe fetish. Glad to see they managed to get someone who’s properly representative onto the bus!!

When I was younger and I railed against stuff like this, I used to get old-fashioned looks and a reminder that it took all sorts to make a world. Now I feel like a dyspeptic old fart, but I’m still irritated. Ignore it and it’ll go away? The problem is, it won’t.

Bound by Negativity

Several situations are conspiring at the moment, and they seem to be amplifying each other. It appears the Universe is giving me a not-so-subtle poke in the ribs.

If you can manage to step outside your life a little and look back in, you sometimes see the most amazingly unlikely things. When I step out, I see myself lying on the floor, bound and gagged, and utterly unable to move, paralysed by indecision and the agonies of choice.

Negativity surrounds me like a jungle vine, cutting off my air, and the light from the canopy above. If I stay here and allow this to become normal to me, I’ll never get out; worse, I won’t want to after a while.

The details are perhaps unnecessary to relate. The actions that need taking are important and the most important of these is: I need to go get myself a new job.

Scaring for Pleasure

Ag. The neighbours were holding what sounded like a full-on cauldron-jumping cackle-a-thon last night. I went to sleep at 9pm on my reading book, only to be woken at 1am by this appalling racket. I grumpily threw on my clothes and stumped round and knocked on the kitchen window, which in retrospect wasn’t the smartest thing to do at that time of the morning, but I was half-asleep and pretty cross to boot. The result was that they both screamed and jumped out of their skins, which I admit was one of the funniest things I’ve seen this year. I broke up laughing, and then they broke up laughing, and I asked them to shut their window and then went back to bed. Whereupon I singularly failed to get back to sleep.

So it’s Friday, I’ve got a deadline and two meetings, and the sum total of *no* energy whatsoever! Interesting equation, let’s see what comes out the other end!