John Barleycorn must die...and I have to write about it!

Ok, so as absentee custodian of this blog, it is my duty to report that I've finally completed my move into my new apartment and am mostly unpacked now.  At the very least, I'm back online and able to write more frequently. 

Starting now! 

So here we are at the crux of another holiday....Lughnasadh/ Lammas/ Loaf Mass / gee ain't it hot out!  Today is also a full moon, so I'm going to keep this pithy and relatively short.

For most of the big holidays, a few of the local traditionalist groups in Chicago metro and their various pagany pals and retinues gather together to celebrate the sabbat together, feast, make merry, gossip about each other and the "pagan community at large" and just have a general good time.  Some of us are a few decades or more into the Craft, so we have that tongue-in-cheek sense of humor about things, which makes rituals fun and mostly light-hearted.

As we hail from different trads, we do a round-robin thing with a different HPS hostessing the rite and sharing a watered-down (read:  not oathbound) version of how their group would normally celebrate the seasonal rite. 

This time, it is my turn to wear the pointy shoes and striped tights (well, since we're not doing the Gardy thing, I have to wear something y'know!)

And I'm really quite excited to write a little ditty for this particular festival.  I like the harvest festivals.  Something about the winding down of Summertime's extreme exertions of heat and growth and production of bursting fruit...the coming to term...the ripening...the culmination of all that abundance, by way of making the outcomes into something nourishing, sustaining...the PURPOSE of it that potent energy to yield a tangible result that you can now hold in your hands, take a big bite out of and pronounce it YUMMY, FILLING and GOOD!

I like the healthy WHOOSH! of the scythe in the field --- or in this modern age, to see the combine rolling all that grain and corn through the blades, shooting it in a magnificent arc into the waiting bin trailing along behind. 

Yeah, and I really like the clever old English poem about Mr. Barleycorn.  You've probably heard it set to music by Steeleye Span or maybe Traffic....yummy!  The tale of the seed, growing to shoot through the soil, gracefully reaching upward toward the sun, turning golden with the Midsummer heat and then ol' John Barleycorn's eventual demise at the hands of the reapers, the miller and finally being partially ingested and partially reseeded so that he would return again the following year.

Gotta love a story with an adventuresome plot.  First, the rise of our gentle hero in who is faced with dangerous odds.  Then there's his struggle to prepare himself for battle, followed by a wild chase and a climactic moment when our hero recognizes that the situation calls for making a "personal" sacrifice for the greater good.  He offers himself up, and in a twist of fate, finds that his choice offers him rewards beyond imagining.  He becomes a legend, a symbol and blessing to others.  Nourishment for the spirit.

Sharing bounty among family, friends, community.  Labor and hope made manifest.  Real.  Tangible and yet ephemeral.  Breaking bread.  Warm barley cakes drizzled with clover honey...and whisky aged in barrels that offer a heat which warms from inside when you take a sip.

Gratitude for work, for toil which yields plenty.

Packing Rat

Am moving.  Am shopping and packing.

It brings to mind the stand-up routine from George Carlin about the difference between stuff and shit:



The going through an accumulated decade-worth of stuff and then debating what's worth hanging onto...and thereby having to Tetris it into a cardboard box.  The shit that isn't worth keeping anymore, that gets to go into the recycle bin, the compost pile, the stuff by the front door that will be collected by some charity or other when their box truck stops by at the end of next week.

Amazing how much stuff and shit one collects.  Things.  Things you wanted, thought you needed, were certain you could not live without...but in the end, just more and more niggling little things you now have to bubble wrap or wedge in amongst your socks or bath towels so that they don't get broken by the dear helpful friends and movers who will be hauling your possessions from this current domicile to your new digs.

I'm paring down my life. 

I'm finding that I don't need as much stuff to make me feel sated, make me feel accomplished, make me feel happy.  Sort of liberating to say goodbye to so many 'formerly must-have' items.  They feel cumbersome and out-of-step with my outlook these days. 

And it isn't just aesthetics either, although surely in my Libran heart of hearts, I've moved on from the decor and mood of the past direction in some ways too.  Kinda over the whole 'French Country with a kitschy-bohemian look' vibe.  Waaaaay over the 'yeah I bought that at the Ren Faire, how did you know I'm pagan' look too. 

Want to rock something more tactile, more daring, more evocative of who I am in this new phase of my existence.

Yeah, still a witchy gal at heart.  But maybe feeling a little more Serena and less Samantha...unless you're speaking about the Sex and the City one.  *grin*

So I've begun jettisoning things that no longer fit in, and started repurposing and collecting smaller things that do.  Meaningful things.  Things that I adore and have saved up for.  Things that make my heart sing, when I need to have something just for me.

Because at this stage, hell yeah, I'm single.  Hell yeah, I'm childless and over 40.  And hell yeah, I'm going to ride this delightful wave of Auntie Mame-hood for all it is worth.

And that is why my new adventures are awaiting me in 2.5 weeks.  I've got the lease on the new apartment all signed and ready.  I've been storing away new furnishings while parting with the old ones.  And that is why everything on this new adventure started with one chair that spoke to me....

The picture doesn't do it justice, but yes... it is chartreuse green velvet, curvy, tufted.  Um, with rhinestone buttons.

Let the fun begin! 

Serendipity-do-dah!

I'm one of those people who believes there are no coincidences.  Things happen for a reason.  People enter into our lives and exit from our lives at the times that they do for a reason.

In my opinion, there is a things happen in the way that they do for, basically, one of two reasons:

The FIRST possible reason is causal reaction. 
Either you have done something / said something or didn't do something /didn't say something...and this has led you to this present situation or caused this present circumstance to occur.  By this, I mean you made a choice at some early point in time, and the present occurrence is a result of that decision (or lack of decision).  Thus, this seemingly coincidental occurrence is a consequential event brought about through your own influence in the world.  Karma, as witches tend to perceive it, says things happen in the NOW, not in the HEREAFTER, and we are responsible for the NOW and our movements in it that ripple onward.

The SECOND possible reason is that an outside influence is purposefully acting upon you.
Other persons or outside forces --which may be other living, corporeal beings in your environment OR may be at least beings of spirit capable of interacting with this plane of existence in some fashion like Divine Beings, the Mighty Dead, or other non-corporeal but active creatures-- they may elect to bring to some idea or life-lesson to your attention by "pinging" your perceptions about it.  Someone else's decisions are impacting your reality, causally or purposefully.  They, or at least their influence, is confronting you and challenging you to both notice that impact in your life and now make a conscious choice about how you will acknowledge and react to what they have shown you or caused to be acted upon you.

The important thing to remember in either circumstance --again, this is in my opinion-- is that YOU get to CHOOSE how you will acknowledge and accept and react to things. 

You get to process the situation, the content, and weigh it against your prior life experiences, calling to mind your emotional reactions to things, how you may or may not have reacted in prior circumstances, or if this is a wholly new experience for you, to judge it against anything remotely similar you've been exposed to and then choose what you feel is an appropriate reactive response.

What is unique to the witches' viewpoint here, is that we tend to be very attentive to the fact that we are in control of both our response AND how we internalize our immediate reactions to stimuli of circumstance.  In so doing, we get that heartbeat-wide space, that moment of captured breath, wherein we can sit with the emotion for just a bit and then decide if our usual gut-reaction or knee-jerk default response is appropriate and of due force given the situation.

We are aware, so very aware, that whatever feedback we give....that will bear continuing change outward, sent rippling and at some point, returning to us in a way we must be responsible for and accountable for.  We must be prepared to deal with what we send forth.  We must be accepting of what happens, since we are the mindful architects of our reality, we witches, we benders and shapers of our world.

This is often an uncomfortable role.  And yeah, everyone has "moments of humanness" when we would so much rather dive into the "ignorance is bliss" mode.  But when we've set foot on this path of the Craft....from the moment we'd declared to the Gods and the Mighty Ones that:

Yes, yes, yes! we do really want to suffer to learn,

and we really do want to have the power

 to move consciousness with our will, yes we do!

Well, my darlings, that comes with a serious price tag. 

You cannot un-know your fate, your burden of being responsible than the next guy.  You've accepted that yoke and now you must pull that around with you.

It isn't all bad though.

You do get to know more about the fact that you, YOU!, are the "man behind the curtain" in a lot of ways concerning your own destiny.  You aren't merely some pawn who is forced to mete out your life in a sort of rat-in-an-endless-maze kind of way.  There is enjoyment in accomplishment to be had.  There is personal recognition for growth and all those lovely epiphany moments that occur.

Like when you meet a friend for the first time and things seemingly just "click" between you naturally.

Or when you have a sense of deja vu about a locale and just seemingly know which turns to make to bring you to a destination that has something which feeds your spirit.

Or when you come across something remote and beautiful and meaningful, seemingly hidden in plain sight, just waiting for you to find and experience it.

There are no coincidences.

Wake up.  Pay attention.

The universe and all the creatures in it...they are speaking to you in symbolic language every day.

See.  Touch.  Taste.  Smell.  Listen.  Feel. 

Breathe with the whole of your being and take it all in.

Then, go do something miraculous with it.