Blodyn's Magical Mystery Tour

Meeting Four (Dec 8th). We call this ‘here asana “Mowing the Lawn.”

2009-12-15T01:06:09Z

Read the madness

At this time I would like to set-forth a preemptive apology that this posting may not be as witty and creative as the previous three (or snarky-in-a-bad-way, depending, you know) as for the last few days I’ve been down with a cold, and the combination of cold medication and congestion has made me a little sleepy and . . . you know . . strange. And crabby. We’ll see if this works out as a positive or not. My vote is on not, hence the cautionary, as this all might well lead into something erratic and wanting in accurate details. *thumbs up*

So, back at the ranch, I arrived to find the Hippie Meeting was this week sparsely populated. When I later enquired of Fabulous Bag Lady as to why this was, I was filled-in about the drama. Today the shy and harmless old guy I know and love as Hank Hill was set to lead the meditation, and apparently last time he lead, he accidentally said something that some found offensive. FBL didn’t tell me what he said and I didn’t want to pry too hard (though I got the impression some found it sexist), but needless to say, rather than responding to it in a mature manner, the entirety of those I usually refer to as “the Unitarians” decided not only to boycott the meeting this week but also hold their own separate meditation session in protest--only for people they like, I suppose, as only the other Unitarians were invited.

Anyway, to hell with them. Hank Hill is an old man, he has Parkinson's disease, he always shows up to the Hippie Meetings in either baggy jeans or overalls, a red plaid shirt, his army-short buzz cut, and his absolutely fabulous shaman necklace decorated with everything from random bells, bits of bones, symbols and icons from all over the place, and other things Professor McGonnagal would refer to as “bits and bobs for your wizardry.” And if his last presentation was anything like the one he gave this time, he would have simply spoken in the moment, from his heart and mind. I don’t know what he said, but when you free-ball things, sometimes shit happens. And he has to be at least 10 if not closer to 20 years older than my father, and I have to rationalize a lot of the well-intentioned but ignorant things Dad says all the time, with that whole “He’s just from a different generation,” thing. That’s all I’m saying.

So, I have to say, the expression “sometimes simple is best” applies beautifully to the situation. He took us on a Journey through a forest, up a trail, past a waterfall, blah blah to a sacred magickal place only we know, where we were allowed to play and frolic and so on and so forth. I suppose what made it flow so well was the fact that he just spoke in his natural speaking voice, and even though his natural speaking voice does have some humorous elements to it, (to be totally honest) it was just loads better than someone who tries (and fails) to sound poetic or mystical, using large words and a disgustingly soothing tone of voice they obviously don’t normally use. I really don’t know how I can describe this in a way that communicates just how on the mark his style was, but when he said, “Now I want y’all to walk with me up the trail. Don’t be goin’ too fast, now. This is your time. Jus’ for you, and no one else. So go up the trail--and look! Look over there to the right. I see it. Do you see it? It’s a bear, drinking. Ya’ll gonna look and see him just settin’ there and he looks right back at you,” well, we saw the bear, before he even said the word “bear.” You don’t have to try and make yourself sound like Professor Trelawney to succeed at a guided meditation.

It was short, however, and when he finished I was a little let down because he wasn’t even sure if any of us were able to get into an altered state and Journey at all. “So did anyone get to see any visions this time?” Where have you been? We’re all half crazy, we always see visions. As much as I enjoyed his narrations, he confirmed for me what I had felt in the meditation, anyway; there is a difference between reading aloud the directions and actually driving, and in this case no one was actually at the wheel on this bus.

But that does lead to an interesting conversation (of sorts, which one should probably read as ‘rather heated discussion’) I had with Hubby, later, about the specific nature of guided meditations and Journeys. I made the comment that after *any* scenario in which I am entering an altered state of mind, to Journey, meditate, perform magick, etc., I always feel a little not-quite-100%-cognizant, as though I’ve just woken up from a nap. I need a moment to find myself again and mull-over what I just experienced, because almost like with dreams, all that data isn’t immediately accessible upon coming back. All I had meant was that this is not the best time for me to engage in complex conversations with people, and that it was ironic for me that everyone hangs around the Pagan Store to chat directly *after* the meditation is over. This happens to me regardless of whether I am being lead through the meditation, simply guided, or whether I am doing it all entirely on my own. To me, it’s simply the result of moving from a properly deep trance state to normal wakefulness.

Hubby, however, feels that that if I am groggy after the Hippie Meetings, I must not be properly shielding myself (read: protecting myself) from the energy of others. Such a reaction is only the result of being metaphysically lead someplace by someone--that is, the subject gives up control to the leader of the meditation, who pulls them places--and obviously given the antics of people like Father Bring-Down, it’s not wise to be letting my guard down to this degree around this group of people.

If anyone is actually reading these, what is your opinion? To me, there is a marked difference between me entering an altered state or trance state and then listening to and *choosing* to follow the directions given by someone else-- and actually giving up control of where I metaphysically go to the meditation leader. As I feel I always have the choice to follow what they say or not, and I don’t let in anything I don’t like, I feel I have quite adequate control of the situation. Hubby, however, maintains that if I feel groggy and can’t always immediately recall where I went or what I saw, then I was in fact not in control of what happened to me--because if I was, I would remember.

Anyway, as I started to say, the meeting concluded rather quickly, after only about 45 minuets (usually this shindig takes upwards of an hour-and-a-half), but there was a lot of hanging out going on afterwards. FBL was having quite a few issues going on all at the same time, and she was trying to use the sample deck of angel and fairy tarot cards belonging to the store to read for herself. Obviously, this was insulting to my sensibilities on several levels, so I had to help her out. I get the strong impression she wouldn’t want me blogging about the details of it, but it has to do with her sons and family-related drama. Anyway, my reading was slightly better than what she was getting from that silly old store copy angel deck. As I’ve said before, FBL and I have this bizarre pagan-dorky kind of relationship where we somehow know each other even though we really don’t. (Every time we see each other at the Hippie Meetings, she asks me how long I’ve lived in the area-- again, bless her heart-- trying to figure out if there’s any place we may have known each other before). We had to end our discussion stuck on the value of forgiveness, which I asserted was in the eye of the beholder, and which she said she understood, and she wanted to know the value I placed on it (presumably for reference, to apply to her current situation) and I had to continue to assert that it doesn’t matter how much value *I* place on it, that it would only be a potential help to her if *she* feels it has value. We sort of had a nice game of ring-around-the-semantics before she had to leave, as she gets rides from Scully and Scully’s shift was over and she wanted to leave so they could go eat lunch at the co-op and then go smoke pot for the rest of the day (it was 12:30). I was invited but I had to decline.

But another interesting character I got to know slightly better was Sanders, whom I mentioned once before. Now, not to be accused of promoting stereotypes, but there really is no way to describe him other than to say he’s a pot-bellied, shaggy-haired young guy who is very proud and open about the fact that he is a witch, that he’s gay, and that he works at a hair salon. You can’t describe his actions without the word “gay,” even though obviously I know that’s a state of being and not a personality quirk. I mean, like, Jack from Will and Grace. Seriously.

Anyway, I found myself moving around the store trying to very politely run away from him, not so much because I didn’t want to talk to him, but because he has this bizarre habit of absolutely *insisting* upon constant eye contact. Like, I’m sorry, but if you ask me a question that requires any level of contemplation at all, I--along with the bulk of people on the planet, I’d wager-- need to look away for a moment while I craft my answer. I think another part of the reason I keep trying to escape a conversation with him was the fact that he’s a teach-first ask-questions-later sort of pagan, the type who automatically assumes upon meeting someone new that he or she knows less about the subject than he does. Kind of found myself using the phrase, “Er, yeah, I know, I--” and then getting cut off while he weaved and bobbed his head to hold eye contact and continued to tell me what he felt I needed to know about the definitions of the words “pagan,” “eclectic,” “witch,” and “Yule,” as well as give me a lesson on how to properly perform candle magick, as well as the absolute necessity of keeping a physical B.O.S., AND posting the moral rules of one’s personal beliefs on the wall next to the place where one performs magick.

To be perfectly honest, I was groggy, so I didn’t know how to politely get to a place where I could explain that I’ve reached a point in my personal journey with metaphysics that I perform the majority of my magick *concurrently* with what most in the community refer to as “the mundane” aspects of my life. I mean, I know I don’t walk around with an amethyst crystal strapped to every visible surface, nor do I have that constantly spaced-out and zen look in my eyes, nor do I feel use words like “resplendent,” but I do have at least some idea what I’m talking about. Ok, to be fair he didn’t say “resplendent.” But really, in my imagination, it’s funnier when he does. So we’ll just all pretend that’s true.

Honestly, I really wanted to just hold *his* eyes and say, “Yes, I know. Calm down, Spaz. Ok?” The thing is, looking back at it now almost a week later, I’m really having a difficult time remembering why I 1) found him so irritating, when really it was just adorable, and 2) why I wasn’t able to spin the conversation ‘round to a place where I was instead teaching him or where we were sharing information. But again, right after I wake up from a trance state, I really just want to get into my car, go eat a burrito, and go home. I hate to even consider the possibility (wink implied in tone) that Hubby might be right, at least in some sense or to a certain extent, seeing as I do seem to be putting myself into a situation where I’m defenseless against simple conversation with an “eye-holder” --which really should have been another character on Seinfeld, someone akin to a “close-talker” and a “bad-breaker-upper.”

So I’m really hoping that my cold is better by tomorrow so I can go to the Hippie Meeting, because it’s Sanders’ week to lead and he’s doing a far more specific thing about the battle of the Oak and Holy Kings to teach the whole group about Yule, which, for good or for bad, should be loads of fun. We’ll see.

Meeting Three (Dec 1st). Dolphrends. kikikiki!

2009-12-05T03:31:06Z

Read this week

Today’s meeting began with me making a sarcastic comment about “time warping” while driving--that is, about leaving the house at the same time one usually does, but somehow arriving way sooner than should be possible. This comment turned into an entire conversation with Scully about metaphysical-themed pockets of black hole that produce time travel while driving on the Interstate-540. I say metaphysical “themed” because I don’t how time traveling can be anything other than based in physics, but attempts on my part to interject with crazy arguments involving, say, imaginary numbers, were met at best with polite nods and instead replaced with a story of some unknown scientist in Europe who had (what I concluded to be) a particle excellerator that broke under mysterious circumstances. And, you know, obviously such a disaster could only result in random invisible pockets of “black hole” (which, FYI, for grammar’s sake is now officially a non-count-noun like poisonous gas or jam), that are floating surreptitiously around the world--causing pagans and Hippies alike to arrive at events earlier than expected. In retrospect, I should have lead with a comment about the processes of hypnosis and possibly the stages of alpha, beta, delta and theta consciousness. If I had had my wits about me it should have been obvious that the science of sleep and dream studies (and by proxy, accidental self-hypnosis producing the sensation of lost time) is more respected in the Hippie community than, you know, math. That was my bad. Next time I accidentally drive faster than the speed limit, hit all the green lights, and not notice it so as to allow me to arrive at the Hippie Meeting fifteen minuets early, I’ll just listen to the radio in the car. They keep playing that, “Meet me on the Equinox” song from Twilight over and over and over again anyway, and it’s not half bad. I love anything that secretly pagan-themed and no one notices.

Thankfully, the conversation about black holes and time travel was cut-short when someone who was to become a new acquaintance of mine walked in, a woman I will call Periwinkle. She was very distraught because apparently on her drive up she saw three dead animals on the side of the highway, two hawks and a coyote, all at different locations. And even though technically speaking both of those animals scavenge carrion and would be attracted to squashed cats, especially this close to winter, she was right that one sees these creatures end up as road kill in their own right far less often. Apparently she slipped in and checked ‘Animal Speak’ back in the book section while I was conversing with Scully, and she had come back to the counter to try the sample deck of Animal Oracle cards the shop had out on display. Scully and I both tried to explain that Andrews’ esoteric meanings for the different animals is much like the meanings ascribed to cards or to astrological signs or to really anything else--it’s a guide at best, and signs (if they are indeed signs) such as this can end up meaning absolutely anything, depending on the circumstances. “But it says here that Coyote deals with chaos and mischief. . . so . . . what is dead chaos? What does that mean?”

Periwinkle was making a typical mistake, in my opinion, that many people in the metaphysical community make: assuming that the spirits care whether you have a Coke or a Pepsi and that anything and everything you come across is a sign from the spirit world that you should or should not do something. In this instance I wasn’t so sure, from the energy she was exuding. But in all circumstances you should remember the simple natural order of things; in this case animals get hit by cars and you’re just likely to see one while driving every so often, and it has nothing to do with your upcoming beverage preference. It was one of those situations where she obviously understood the words that were coming out of my mouth, but she didn’t know if she believed what I said was plausible. And her aura was a tangled mass of a whole mess of stuff, preventing me from getting a better view of what was going on up there. I mean, I wasn’t sure myself that this was simply a random act of nature. So I offered to give her a tarot reading to help sort it all out.

Unfortunately, if this was my time to show off my mad skills, I dropped the ball. But in my defense, the afore-mentioned tangled mess that was her energy was all that was showing up. So it’s not that I couldn’t get a clear reading, but that I got a clear reading of something that wasn’t clear (and I’m not clutching at straws, honestly). What showed up, from what I could see and tried to explain, was that what she saw was significant not because the universe had something to say to her, but because her current mental and emotional state was such that she was more prone to feel disturbed by what she saw, reminding her of why she was so off balance, and thus resulting in a feeling of significance. I think she got it. I mean, again, I know she understood what I said, and she looked like she thought it made good common sense, but her expression also seemed to say she thought it sounded too easy.

And to be fair, she did say that she considers the hawk to be her totem, and if I saw two jaguars dead on the side of the road at two separate locations on the same day, I’d be freaked out too. Her reading also revealed another spiritual force around her, something dark, emotional, and masculine, and I just encouraged her to see this entity out and to meditate on her feelings towards what she saw. So that’s that.

Now, the meditation. As it turns out, it’s Chevrons’ week to lead the circle. There was chit-chat about some warm-up yoga, then it was downgraded to “chair yoga,” and then dropped altogether which bummed me out some because I love yoga. I ended up doing some anyway, just because I could. Fabulous Bag Lady was back (she was absent last week) and she was over the moon because she just got her level one Reiki attunement. With her it’s one of those dorky pagan things where we feel like we’ve known each other forever even though we haven't. Past lives or whatever. But we’re just huggy chatty friends now and that’s just that.

So Chevrons has perhaps the most beautiful large quartz crystal I’ve ever seen--unimaginably junked-up and corrupted by the most horridly tacky plastic “stone” base with inset multicolored LED lights in rotating colors, decorated further with lit dolphin inlays. It was a little like someone Bedazled a tree-- it just misses the point on so many levels. Later, at dinner, Hubby suggests to me that this might have been a really good glass fake; in retrospect, I didn’t actually touch it, so I can’t say for sure. Actually, I hope he’s right--otherwise that’s just an insult to art and nature combined. Like a turduckin, or Jeff Dunham. Nonetheless, this crystal creation had managed to collect an absolutely enormous amount of water and dolphin energy. Invisible note to self, never bring anything to show-and-tell that I’d mind getting covered with Hippie, because apparently no one’s every taught them the “ask before you touch” rule. Every single one of them gasped as soon as they entered the room and promptly ran their hands all over it-- in the process releasing years’ and years’ worth of ocean and dolphin energy Chevrons has collected there. It was like that giant crystal was the dolphin-doorbell, it was fabulous.

So, Chevrons goes on to tell us about how dolphins are her totem, and how she’s been on different trips to Belize and different places to swim with dolphins (pictures went around), and how she believes dolphins helped cure her ovarian cancer, and how you don’t need to be near water to be close to dolphin spirits (while there were like a dozen in the room. haha. duh). She said she prefers meditations that are unstructured and unscripted, so she simply said that she would like us to spend the entire time concentrating on the health of the waters of the world for the benefit of dolphins.

Personally speaking, and I know it’s sacrilegious to many people, but dolphins aren’t up there on my list of favorite creatures. I like them, but there’s something about their nature that I somehow find untrustworthy, like they’re up to something. I don’t know. I’ve had a phobia for the ocean for much of my life even though I’ve never experienced any ocean-related trauma. But being married to my Hubby has helped a lot; since he loves the water so much and we share so much energy, that gets carried over to me. Plus, in the meditation room at that moment, there was nothing but joyful water energy-- not the secretive dark depths I tend to find in lone meditations. So I was down with it. The room was full of blue and pink bubbly energy and golden, glowy, laughing, happy dolphin spirits, and we were told to simply do whatever came to us and enjoy ourselves and Chevrons’ dolphin friends. Hell yeah I was down with that. It was a good day.

One thing I did notice, though. Back in college when I first started getting serious about learning magick, one of my first teachers w (literally--she was one of my professors) as a shaman and she used to lead her classes in guided shamanic Journeys all the time. She had reached that magical point in her career where she could do whatever the hell she wanted without consequence; we used to joke that it didn’t matter what administrations said a class was supposed to be, that if Prof. G. taught it it would be about gay and transgender studies, women’s spiritualism, and neo-shamanism, but that’s beside the point. Back in the day with Dr. G. I used to be able to Journey like that *snap* and fly off on incredible adventures through space and time. I’d meet spirits and get messages and see new places and ideas without even trying. Pfft. This magick jazz is so easy.

And I can still enter a trance state pretty easily--that’s an air-elemental thing, I’m never 100% present anyway. But it’s actually been a very long time since I had me a good old fashioned fuck-all Journey with no destination in mind like I used to with Dr. G and her hipster goddess friends, and I discovered that I really can’t do it anymore. That is, let it flow naturally. Part of me wants to think that I actually have the ability to focus now, as is necessary for magick, and because I’ve learned to focus while in a trance state, I don’t automatically float off to Mars anymore. So that’s all roses and kittens when I have a task I want to accomplish, but it makes it hard to just go to Mars--like just for fun see things I could never imagine. Which kind of sucked.

I mean, to my credit, I was given a task and I tackled said task. I ended up having a jive-session with Njord, playing with the dolphins, jumping through the different waterways of the world, leaping through waterfalls as a frog, sucking-sea-salad with my manatee friend, flying under ice sheets with penguins like we were swimming under the land itself. I was told to manifest healthy water energy and I did; there was no Mars involved, only Neptune.

I don’t know what effect the 20-odd Hippies and I actually had on the waters of the world, but the water energy itself was just banging. Although it was a little cloudy with other stuff by the time we finished. It was good to see the Hippies actually could Journey on their own, seeing as most of them went places I didn’t and saw things I missed in the shared pool of energy. Good on ‘em. Although one point I’ve never gotten through to new-agers is that if you want to accomplish magick, that is if you want to actually cause change, you need to *focus* on the task. You can’t just put any random good vibes next to an object or idea and expect it to get better by proxy. That’s a point of theological contention between me and a lot of folks in the metaphysical community, I know, but I maintain that you can’t just exude happy, peppy energy *next* to something and expect that exposure to it will cause change for the better. You don’t make good intentions to cause change; you just make change.

But anyway, I think an hour is too long for a single journey, even for me, to be totally honest. I fluctuated in and out of trance state, watching the room for a while, watching other people. Every so often, Father Bring-Down would pop into my head, and to be totally honest I don’t know if he was actually traveling to meet me or if I just manifested him in my mind because I was thinking about him watching me (he does that, with that same scowl). Without going into too many details about what happened, I think some sort of truce has been reached (even if it was just within myself). So we’ll see how the next round goes.

This experience was really good for me. I’ve always admitted that water is my weakest element (note the oceanic phobia, for god’s sake), but I’ve never been really proactive about discovering just why that is, and what I might do about it to become more balanced. I mean, it makes sense that an air-heavy person wants to avoid the water because air is mostly about the mind and the water is mostly about the heart, (to simplify it to the point that it’s bordering on incorrect). And oh yes, I do have my little issues-- hence the dark and uninviting waters I tend to find within myself. It was good for me to get such enormous exposure from the less-clouded consciousnesses of the Hippie congregation who, for all of their own individual unspoken emotional hindrances, were able to materialize the simple, powerful, and innocent joy of pure water. Good water, right water, the way it wants to be rather than the way it comes out through me most of the time. It’s not flighty like air-joy, not a passing chuckle or smirk, but something heavy, something so light it becomes heavy and serious again. I feel like I have an exceptionally powerful template now, something I can bring back to mind to manifest when I can’t quite remember it within myself.

Speaking to my West totem here, the totem of water, but take careful notes. Myndi, you’re not even a water animal, but you’re a winter animal, an ice animal. Remember that ice is pure spring water, and that you, just like the ice, change from one thing to another with just a little warmth.

(Aw, emo poetry. lmao. Yuck.)

I have decided I like dolphins, at least more than I did before. But they really are like the cheerleaders of the sea, aren’t they? I don’t care how cute and peppy they are, I’m still cooler than them.

Meeting Two (Nov 24th). Dancing While Blindfolded.

2009-12-01T02:28:57Z

Read
Hi there, kids! Hi, Conky! What’s today’s Secret Word?
Bonk Bonk. Good morning, Pee Wee. Today’s Secret Word is . . . bink boink print print bloop . . . “Awareness.”
Ooh! Ha-ha. Did you hear that, kids? Whenever someone says the Secret Word, scream real loud! Ha-ha! Let’s try it.
Awareness!
AHHHHHHHHHH!
Awareness!
AHHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHHH!
Ha-ha!

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So, I remembered to run on PST today, but apparently that’s still too punctual. It was a bad traffic day, a bad allergy day, a bad rain day, a bad being-on-time day, really. Again I had time to kill with awkward small talk, but at least I didn’t have to produce quite as much of it. The woman who was leading today’s meditation whom I will call “Amidala” was there for set up-- as was, unfortunately, Father Bring-Down. I really just don’t get the guy at all. Even if he lacks the energetic awareness--

Awareness! AHHHHHHHH!

--to have the smallest inkling of an idea that I was the one who shut him down last week, he should have at least acknowledged the hate-vibes and snidey glances. Nothing but shy smiles and nods, as though he was glad to see me arriving at another church picnic with brownies in hand. But I don’t think that’s true, really, that he doesn’t have the energetic skills to be so totally in the dark; I think he knows full well what he’s doing but he’s just convinced that what he does can only be interpreted as a positive, so it simply doesn’t enter his mind not to do it. And anyone who doesn’t want it must be in desperate need of the light and the goodness, so they should have it anyway, and they’ll thank him in the end. Yes, kids, that’s right. Christings are exactly like Brussels sprouts.

I’m likely putting words in his mouth. Having never had any actual verbal conversations with him, it’s not all as clear as it could be. I mean, aside from an exchange when I said, “I’m sorry, but I’m sure I’ve forgotten everyone’s name,” and he answered, “Don’t worry about it, we switch them around every week anyway,” well aside from that I don’t even know what his real, “non-channeling” voice sounds like. (His channeling voice wavers in and out of different accents, but most of the time it’s an assumed raggedy Australian or something. Guessing he’s going for British so it sounds more “mystic” *Snork*).

Amidala’s game plan was not, I’m sorry to say, as awesome and together as Little Lizard’s was last week. Her theme, as she tried to explain it, wafted this way and that across the un-mowed grassy landscape of the unprepared and focus-challenged. (As an aside, she tells us she’s a retired teacher. I hope she was just off balance today, because otherwise I have to throw “snow-clones” and comment on the Arkansan public school system and understanding now why all them kids cain’t read good). But it was supposed to be about opening one’s intuitive and psychic awareness—

Awareness! AHHHHHH! Ha-ha.

--specifically through what she called, “elemental intuition.” Having never specifically heard this combination of phrasing before I had to assume conclusive meaning, because she never actually explained it, but I’ll get to that in a moment.

The circle began by a marathon grounding and centering session; Amidala played a CD of some Hindu sitar and chanting, and we were expected to be finding our centers throughout the length of it. I don’t know specifically how long this was, but on most of the CDs I know, such om-shanka-shanka-ravishankas usually last anywhere from 6 to 11 minuets. Now, depending on the circumstances, grounding and centering for me can take from a second to shy of thirty seconds. Not showing off, just pointing out that this is not my first rodeo. I had a lot of time to kick back and watch everyone else. I find it interesting just how many people itemize their thoughts when they ground, like a grocery list, and actually partially manifest them before they send them off—as in to the point that I can sense them before they blow them away. I guess they don’t know the bathtub stopper technique. I mean, sometimes I have to get specific like that with random OCD-style thoughts stuck on a looped feedback, but not with everything and certainly not every time. Most of the time it’s just random fluff that’s on the surface and then good to go. It seems counterintuitive to me to actively sit there and think of every possible thing that I might think of during the circle and release it all one by one. I’m not criticizing there, just commenting.

So after that she played a tape of herself reading from a book. She said she was nervous and didn’t want to make any mistakes, so she thought this was better. Because, you know, public speaking just comes up so infrequently for teachers. And somehow I found the echo or the background noise of the tape distracting, or maybe I was just being a flake for other reasons, but I admit that everything she said on the tape just went in one ear and out the other. From the thoughts that didn’t wipe their feet as they went through, I was able to piece together from those bits of mud that she was explaining more about elemental intuition, how certain people are innately connected to the elements of the earth and henceforth get drawn to spiritualism, healing, and magick. To me she just described every person who simply has energy awareness—

Awareness! AHHHHHH!

--and didn’t differentiate how this specific type of intuition was different or distinct from the greater scheme of metaphysical work. If it was even supposed to be different. Like I said, I spazzed out and don’t remember. I do that with books on tape, too. If I don’t see the person talking I think my mind interprets it as an invitation to go on a short holiday.

And then there was more sitar music. Now, I love Indian music, so I’m not complaining, but playing three pre-recorded things a meditation does not make. Just felt the need to emphasize that point. Actually I think she did do some live talking after the book recording, but I really just forgot all of it. Most of it was me, not paying attention, but my general impression of it was that it was really generic stuff about sanctifying the self and visualizing white lights and such, all these things that cause Hippies to exude energy in copious amounts.

So again comes the part where I remind the audience that, as Mike Myers would say, I am really only the Diet Coke of evil. But really, there was no direction. Only sitar music. Hippies kept opening their eyes and glancing around expectedly, unsure if they were missing a nonexistent point. I didn’t know what to do with myself, so . . . I made sand castles.

I called all sorts of fun things to the circle--things I believe exist in some form outside of myself such as some of my totems and different Hindu gods, as well as things I just kind of invented on the fly that I thought might be amusing or interesting to watch as inspired by the music. As my grandma would have put it, I had me a grand old time.

Now, here comes the paradox, because the thought arises that no one asked me to do that, so how does that makes me different from Dr. Bring-Down last week? Well, it’s not a paradox, it’s just a pair of ducks (quack quack) and it was loads different. First of all, I called energy just into the circle, into the space, and was in no way pushing it into anyone. Secondly, I had full control of everything I manifested—I knew it was going to behave itself because I made it behave itself. And obviously none of it was in possession of me at any time making me speak in tongues and flap around wildly like a crazy.

So, the song ends and the CD player is stopped and I ground all my toys back into the earth and I crack open my eyes. And then—sad things. The pot-bellied adorable gay guy who had been sitting next to me, “Sanders,” had gotten up out of his seat to go draw on the white board what he was seeing in his visions, and the older lady to my right, “Chevrons,” still had her eyes closed in deep concentration as though trying not to loose hold of something really, really important. Apparently they had never been exposed to much actual magick before. What the hell did I do to my poor Hippies? God I’m an ass.

So they started discussion on their heavy, magical, emotional, uplifting, significant experiences. Most all of them had been in a trance-enough state of mind to experience my energetic manifestations on some level, because the things they talked about matched what I had created. Cobras, reds and oranges, mandalas, elephants, dancers, strings, Ganesha, dragons, vast skies with rainbows, the tunnel to the lower world where many of my totems lives. If I had to apply vocabulary to what happened, it seemed like a handful of them were able to shamanic journey through what I had manifested and a couple got beyond it to someplace else of their own creation. But others were just kind of aware of—

Awareness! AHHHHHH!

Damn you, Peewee. That wasn’t even the word. Others were just kind of seeing and experiencing what I put out there in a more generalized way.

So when asked to share what my experiences were (in a hushed and awed voice by Chevrons) all I could do was say that I don’t like to talk in groups, because what was I going to say?

The arrogant side of me wants to say that I helped them have an enjoyable spiritual experience because the one leading the group dropped the ball, and there’s nothing wrong with that. The always-guilty part of me that I swear was Jewish in a past life just feels awful, that these people subtle-sensed my random energy crayon drawings and instead believed they were dancing with gods.

As soon as I had the opportunity I just left, not talking to anyone.

Meeting One (Nov. 17th). Meditations on “Meditation.”

2009-12-01T02:22:11Z

I apologize that it's long. It's the first one, the others won't be so bad. Read it
Not knowing entirely what to expect and rather enjoying the excitement of the unknown to be totally honest, I showed up brightly at the pagan store, smartly on time, with bells on--which was of course way, way too early. I had absolutely forgotten to run on PST (that is, Pagan Standard Time, which runs anywhere from a half-hour to five-plus hours behind regular Human Time). Actually, I’m surprised I didn’t see it coming, seeing as all of the attendees are obviously free to attend this shindig in the middle of a work day (ah-hem). Anyway, people trickled in and I helped set up chairs (I know, sacrilegious, right? Powwow-style is so much better) and I was told everyone’s name which I promptly forgot. I’m getting better after a second week, but it’s just as well that in these posts I’ll use the nicknames I made up for these people instead, seeing that—although I’m liking most of them personally—much of what I have to say is rather critical. Don’t want to be too much of a bitch and use real names for god’s sake.

Now, different people who read my posts have a wide range of experience with the breadth of the metaphysical world, so for the sake of the lesser-traveled among you I will try to paint a picture. There is a specific subset of the metaphysical community that I usually refer to simply as “new age” that comprises people of a wide range of belief systems--often Unitarian Christianity, a type of neutered Native American shamanism, and something they are so adamant is Buddhism--who all like to come together, do silly and pointless things with magick, and talk about how crop circles, Mayan astrology, Quan Yin’s charming smile, Jesus, weed, and amethyst crystals are all integral cogs in some greater scheme of things—almost always with the necessary application of the “mystic fingers” hand gesture. I just love them. And I say that totally without guile- they just brighten my day.

Secondly, for reasons I’ve yet to fully understand, these people tend to be overwhelmingly in the 40+ age range. They tend to believe this is because someone must enter the “elder” phase of life before their soul wants to “turn to the spirits” and the world of old gods and magick, somehow unaware of the large number of magick-working individuals in all age ranges who lurk throughout the far-sweeping metaphysical community (and shop at that very same pagan store on a regular basis. Hmm.) Anyway, that being said, whenever I attend such circles of the ya-ya sisterhood, I always get acclaim and praise that I’m “sensitive” at “my age,” which just tickles me. It didn’t help that I was in day-off-garb (at least it wasn’t a Harry Potter T, but chances were good it could have been) and wearing my magic Robin-knit-hat (hat hair) which hid my blossoming swath of gray, so yes, I’m sure I looked like your average pop-goes-the-teen-witch—all somehow making my attendance all the more unique to the group. *cough* Bask in my awesomeness, I say in my best Daria voice. Someday I’ll likely tell them I’m inching closer to thirty every day, but only after the fun wears off.

So I was told that the regular attendees take turns hosting and leading the meditations, and this week a woman I’ll call “Little Lizard” was up. As I do in most such situations, I feigned a shyness and hesitation I don’t truly possess, allowing me the opportunity to stay quiet and watch and listen before I give away anything of myself (that’s a jaguar thing, watch first pounce second, so blame my totem and not me). Earlier while I had been waiting for the rest of the group to show, I had been told numerous times to “give the group a change” because “it’s just so different every time” because of this rotation system. And that I didn’t doubt, but at this point in the meeting I was privy to understand the sub-text of that admonition—most of it coming from a gal who works there who’s a lot closer to me in age, “Scully.” Scully apparently tells me this because, as a Wiccan, she knows the group is composed largely of Unitarians and, knowing that I too swing the witchy-way, I might get put-off.

Well, I learned a new word that day: Christing. It took a little covert energy-sensing and mind-scanning while various people, including Little Lizard, were talking about it, but I get the gist now. This is really what I love about new-agey Unitarians (not cool ones, like Mandar, obviously). They sit right on the line between liberal Christianity and new-age-style paganism and metaphysics, so they don’t quite fit in 100% with either group—even though I’ve noticed that most of them seem to think they do, totally unaware that talk of force-feeding a giant blast of their brand of very Christian divine energy-- hot, bunry, and snidey—into someone via a half-assed understanding of the mechanics of magick (that is, “Christing someone”) maybe, just maybe, might make others in the room feel awkward and uncomfortable. I mean, if I may play my “It’s Ok, I have a Black friend” card, (read the rules on the back, it works with Christians too!) I personally don’t have any problem (socially) with Christians of any variety, at meditation groups or otherwise. I just have a problem with rude, uncultured individuals of all varieties who open-mouth-first and think-never in regard to the rules of social graces the rest of us were taught in childhood but that they somehow missed, assuming that because *they* believe all forms of religion lead to the very same god, that *everyone* is totally comfortable with bringing Jesus (as manifested energy and not just as a discussion topic) into a pagan store full of a variety of witches, wiccans, shamans, etc. I mean, really, we all *say* that we believe divine energy stems from the same source, but we all secretly know that’s not true. I mean, it’s *technically* true, but not *practically* true. Quite a few of us Sharks ran away from Jesus and the rest of the Jets and we would really prefer it if you didn’t give away our hiding spot. Thank you.

Er, excuse me, I sneezed on the screen there, I think. So, to Little Lizard. To her credit, the woman is an amazing guided-meditation leader/speaker/whatever you want to call it. Her voice is the sort you’d expect to hear on a personal-affirmation or subliminal weight-loss CD, and the words, which she wrote herself, were poetically beautiful, specific enough so that no one was lost but non-specific enough to include people of every faith, and delivered with perfect timing. This allowed her to do exactly what you’re supposed to do in a group guided meditation: use her voice to lead people to the places she wants them to go, to point them in the right direction, while allowing their own wills to actually manifest energy and to metaphysically travel. The actual self-energy work was a little generic—fluff-up the chakras, ground into the earth, bless the self backwards and front with divine light—but it never hurts to do extra sit-ups, and the majority of these people are pretty green, so it was a necessary and apt exercise. It really all came together the way I would hope, and better than I expected, to be totally honest. Meditation really is supposed to mean just the one thing (as in an Asian context) but in the metaphysical world it’s a far broader brush stroke, and in the pagan community it’s really more about meditation with some supplemental shamanic journeying/astral projecting added in, and Little Lizard pulled it together like a pro.

I was happy to just surf on everyone else’s wave and use the boost to travel to new and interesting places. As some of you might know, as a witch if you give me energy I can manipulate the hell out of it and make it into a fucking balloon animal, but with actually raising the energy in the first place—not so much. A whole variety of theories abound as to exactly why this is the case, but it just comes down to the fact that I suck at it. So that’s probably why I enjoy opportunities to jam with these types of Hippies, seeing as they somehow have it in their heads that acting upon their will is the opposite of where they want to be (leftovers from a more conservative, unassertive, subservient sort of Christianity, I do wager); they are the sort who want to sit there, open their crown chakras, pool a whole mess of energy in the process—and then just sit there hoping neat shit will come to them. Rather than, you know, like, making a decision to manifest a desire or to journey/astral project someplace or jive with the spirit or deity of their choosing. To each his own, I--er--suppose, if you like starting the ignition in your car and then not driving anywhere. But for me it’s like: Hey! Free pie! (Ok, so it’s not like free pie at all, it’s more like “Hey, free rocket fuel!” But who ever finds free rocket fuel?). I know some of you might be thinking that was a little presumptuous of me, but really, it’s not like they were using it and most of them aren’t energy-aware enough to have noticed anyway.

So, now to uncharacteristically NOT critique something (I know, I’m awful), I was able to learn a new visualization technique that I found quite satisfying. See, each of these sessions is supposed to have a theme or a lesson or a moral-of-the-story or a Conky’s “Secret Word” of the day or something to that effect, and if I remember correctly, this one was about . . . *crickets chirping* . . . personal affirmation? I can’t remember. Shows you how much the group stays on topic. Anyway, part of the visualization exercise was understanding both our oneness with divinity and personal power through manifesting a version of the divine in our own image. Actually I found it amusing, because I believe this was somehow supposed to bring about a humble sort of peace because we’re a part of the divine and the divine controls all, but if you look at the flip side it’s rather occult—even a little farther over that occult line than where I usually play. I am god, and I sit respectfully at my own feet and feel comforted because god—that is I—have everything under control. It’s not humbling because god is big and strong and in charge of fate and the universe; it’s exponentially empowering because *I* then am big and strong and in charge of fate and the universe. Unfortunately, I don’t think too many attendees “got it” with the multiple meanings I did; if they did, they didn’t act on it, because then they may have possibly begun to understand the interconnected relationship between magick and the divine will and actually, you know, not just sat there while I splashed around in their energy like a kid with water-wings, allowing myself to shamanic-journey to a fabulously colored wonderful place where I am god and everything just freakin’ rawks, where I have infinite possibility in my hand but absolutely no concerns weighing me down and I hear choirs and choirs of Valkyries singing Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man” off throughout the clouds . . .

And then . . . bad things. Someone must have brought up the Urban Dictionary.com page for “buzz kill” and manifested it into existence, because in human form it scooted its chair forward as it was asked by Little Lizard to pray.

So about the old man I know as “Father Bring-Down.” During the forced and awkward small talk that took place before the meeting, Father Bring-Down just sat there, appearing on the surface to be an unassuming old man with Einstein-hair, ugly toenails, and a very gentle sense of humor. However, I did become concerned when Little Lizard and many of the other Unitarians introduced me to Father Bring-Down as “a channeler!” (squee included) and he round-robin introduced himself as “So-and-so, the Water Shaman” (which, as far as I’m aware in my life’s experience, is something he just plain invented--which is fine for most people, just not those who irritate me so much). Needless to say, Father BD does function as a shaman (using the word in the anthropological sense) within this odd-Unitarian community, offering the Christings I described earlier as well as channeling spirits, angels, “ascended masters,” and god himself on occasion. Father BD did not like me from the start and he tried very hard to hide it, as though he expected nothing but trouble and drama from me, Miss Late-Twenties-Teen-Witch. Well, guess what? That’s not usually my role in this world, but it is now. You left your circle open to whatever wanted to show up, and an element of chaos invited itself in. That’s witchcraft 101, chapter one, Homeboy. If all it takes to overturn your boat is for quiet, polite little me to show up to your *open* meditation group and sit there with the audacity to not be Christian and to not think you’re the shit because you know a lot about your very specific form of magick--then welcome to chaos. Bring a fucking helmet.

In all seriousness, I’m making it sound like I was purposefully being obstinate, but I swear I wasn’t. In fact, I was so polite that even when Father BD began to pray, and his prayer very quickly turned into a very uncontrolled channeling of something funky I’m pretty sure he thought was an aspect of god but that to me was some unknown and unpredictable spirit that kept trying to worm its fingers and tendrils into my brain—well even then I was too polite to simply open up a can of shut-up juice. Instead, I simply shielded myself, because if any of the other participants wanted what he was bringing it wasn’t my business to interfere. After all, I’m the new one here, this is their thing, and if this is a pseudo-Unitarian-chaos-prayer-magick-throw-down and I just walked in the wrong door, then that’s my bad, and I wasn’t about to rain on their parade. He’s the Water Shaman, maybe they liked it. I mean, there’s Asian nostril porn for god’s sake; people like all sorts of strange things, don’t they?

However, when a prayer turned into a prolonged babbling session complete with several strange accents and an explosive thousand-tentacled monstrous chaotic what-the-fuck monster completely destroying every last sparkle of the magickal mystery tour Little Lizard helped create, Stephie got angry. More, Stephie got angry when she began to feel the discomfort and anger stemming from helpless Hippies who could not shield properly and were exhausting themselves by the effort, trying in vain to match the force of his channeling in kind rather than simply negating the energy.

Now, I’m not trying to make it sound like I think I’m the Grand Master of Everything, but shutting him down was not difficult, once I made the decision to. When you have someone who has the ability to channel a lot of energy but has a limited understanding of the actual mechanics of magick, it’s not hard to trip them up. Because he believes what he’s bringing is coming entirely from outside of himself and that he has no control over it--and he wouldn’t want to control it because that would insult the nature of the thing to his mind—then he doesn’t understand that that he’s manifesting it, that he IS the one doing and making it. So when his energy is negated by a very neatly placed void above his head, I could tell he knew something was wrong but he didn’t know what, and when he found he wasn’t channeling that spirit anymore, he wrapped up what he was saying as though he had made the decision on his own to stop. Because when it was cut-short unexpectedly he simply didn’t know how to start it up again, and that’s the long and short of it. Picture along with me the image of my shield moving from around me to tightly around him: you know when you’re looking at someone from a distance so they appear two inches tall, and you put your thumb and forefinger up as though you’re holding them? And then, squish squish? Watch it, y’all, actual witch in the hiz-ouse. Ok, I’m both too old and too nerdy to say that. But it was all very warm and fuzzy.

So about channeling. I am respectfully aware of the very wide range of beliefs and practices held on the subject, and I want to make sure I point out that it wasn’t the channeling itself that upset me. As I tried to explain to a few people after the meeting, a division between two different schools of spiritualism seems to have asserted itself: controlled invocation vs. uncontrolled possession. No one got it, but I’ll keep going anyway because that’s how I roll. Personally, my life’s experience has taught me that uncontrolled possession is nothing but 1) dangerous, 2) limited in usefulness, and 3) rude. I mean, witchcraft 101, chapter 2 is all about the ethos of magick and how you’re never supposed to perform magick on someone without their permission. When you bring an energetic entity into shared space without consent, that just plain counts as breaking this rule. If you are unable to even predict what this entity is going to do, you will have no control it if it gets out of hand.
If everyone involved has signed the metaphorical waver and that’s how they get their jollies, then go for it. It seems to work for Vodouisants and Holy-Rollers, but I humbly submit that I don’t see the point to either one--aside from making a huge ruckus. You can speak with spiritual entities just fine without letting them take over your body. Remember that he was only asked to pray and he channeled instead, and that far from everyone there was from the group who believed him to be an awesome gifted spiritual leader, and that this was (at least advertised as) an open circle, so join me on this side of the room where we’re still pissed off about it.

So anyway, from some after-circle chitchat I learned that a few people “felt how much I bristled towards Father BD” during his performance, and I had one attendee adamantly agree with me that Father BD is a huge pain in the ass, my new solitary wiccan friend to be known hereafter as “Fabulous Bag Lady.” FBL again took the opportunity to tell me that Father BD doesn’t come every time, hardly ever channels like that, and the meetings are always different. I don’t really care, to be honest, I had loads of fun stirring the pot. And to my knowledge, no one had the awareness to know just how much I was doing and it’s far more amusing to not volunteer information.

Now, really, I’m only about 48% as evil by volume as advertised, so my intent in going to the Hippie Meetings is really not just to fuck with people. Ok, it is, but you can learn from that--both by doing it and by being on the receiving end of it. From my end, I’d really prefer the opportunity to simply teach people openly, without games and other nonsense separating us, but if this is where we’re at in the universe right now I’m prepared to get on this train. I’m really hoping that someone has both the gumption and the energetic awareness to catch me with my hand in the cookie jar and call me on it, possibly even reach far enough down within themselves to find wherever they’ve hidden their will to tell me I’m not welcome in their meditation group anymore. Because that would mean they’ve grown a step, that they’re looking at their metaphysical surroundings actively and not passively, that they’re learning to think more critically, ask questions, and make logical deductions based on their own experiences--rather than just taking deep breaths and trusting in the dogma. If that happens, and someone wants me, I’ll be there. If it doesn’t, I’ll still be there, grinning Cheshire Cat-style and saying nothing.

Hippie Meetings

2009-12-01T02:15:42Z

In an effort to re-calibrate my mind so it will write more often (getting me back to my books, where it needs to be), as well as to somehow turn a recent guilty pleasure into something more productive, I have decided to begin posting summations of my thoughts and feelings concerning something I have recently been attending: Hippie Meetings. About two-and-a-half weeks ago I was shopping at my local pagan store and received an invitation to attend these weekly Hippie Meetings (or as they are also known, open “meditation circles” held at said store), and for some unknown reason I decided this would be fun. I don’t work on the day of the week these meetings are held, and they’re free, and I like hippies, so I figured why the hell not. So with the brash self-assuredness that can only come to you on a Tyr’s-day, I charged forth.

Now, I will be posting about two meetings today, to get caught up, and then begin posting once per week thereafter, after each meeting. I don’t know what value these posts may have (as I feel the only real guarantee might be simple amusement), although I hope those of you I teach magick to and learn it with might join me in some interesting insight. Granted, these people are energy-sensitive but only by a generous application of the term, so yes, it’s a little like I’ve decided to take a middle school English class again. But, if I may take a brief moment to be pithy, often you can learn as much from going back as you can from going forward (if not more). So, upward and onward.

Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you . . .

2009-04-27T14:49:37Z

. . . happy birthday Dear Mandar! Happy Birthday to you!

*Muah*

(I know you said your birthday was cencelled this year and forever more, but I'm afraid I ignore memos I don't like. Meh, I know. Not a lot we can do.)

*hugs*

A request for all of my energy-working friends

2009-04-14T15:26:58Z

I have a request for all you who work with or deal with magickal/divine energies (which I’m pretty sure is just about all of you).

Hold your breath now quivering in antici-pation—- I’m writing a book. I know, how trite. But for the first time in a while I’ve felt charged with an actual purpose and with the almost urgent feeling that this book in my head *needs* to be written. Kind of charged with a quest in a Lord of the Rings kind of way—- campy I know, but there it is.

The premise of my book is explaining energy work/magick as studied with the scientific method. That is, explaining just how it works in a nuts-and-bolts kind of way, removed from any specific tradition or denomination and therefore removed from potentially confusing fogs of cultural traditions or modern myths which aren’t only unnecessary for working magick—they can potentially be quite confusing and detrimental for someone actually learning to understand *how* energy operates (its natural laws) and not just *how to work it* through the motions of one tradition or another. It comes down to the fact that some aaspects/tools of various rituals for doing magick *do* have a purpose and *do* something (and I go into the exact how and why that is) and other aspects/tools/etc simply do not, and are only part of the religious/ceremonial aspect of said tradition; not saying those things are in any way unimportant. Just saying that because magickal working crosses over all those different denominational boundaries and functions in a more-or-less similar way, then it must (and can) be separated from all magickal traditions and opperate independantly (which it can). That's what I'm going to be explaining in a plain, no-cheese, no-mistifying language kind of way.

But for the most part, it’s full of things that *I’ve* thought of on my own, through conversations with Scott and from interactions with my students and friends. But I’d like to include a broader spectrum of thoughts and questions.

So here’s what I’m asking for. For those of you who have been practicing magick/energy work for a while now, think back to when you were first learning and recount some aspects of energy manipulation which didn’t seem clear, and that you feel you might have learned more easily if said concepts had been explained in a more straight-forward manner. For example, like when someone sounded ostensibly delusional by insisting they are constantly hounded by fairies that hide things from them and create mischief, and you only understand now what’s happening, now that you've had the change to figure out the answers to the questions you might have had: where did the fairies come from and why do they not only follow but harass specifically this one particularly air-headed person? And what is a fairy in the first place? Or when you’re drawing a circle or otherwise directing energy, you know that certain materials work better and/or do things differently than others: different woods, iron, steal, bone, your bare hands, etc etc. But why? Things like that. The sorts of things that you learned or figured out on your *own* because no teacher or book ever specifically just explained it to you from the beginning. Or maybe concepts that were difficult to teach to your own students; what issues they had understanding and how you came to make them understand.

For those of you who are still new to these ideas, what things are confusing and could use an explanation not cloaked in specific cultural interpretations, circular logic, or irritating patchouli clouds? It can be anything from the specific to the broad, from why salt has the purifying and protective properties it does and how we know it, to why the magickal world at large just seems overrun with schizophrenic hippies.

I want my book to be helpful to as many people as possible so all input is appreciated. :)

Thanks *hugs and kisses*

Your morning cup of Awesome, at your pleasure

2009-04-13T15:47:46Z

Just passing this along from manda, even though I know a lot of you are mutual friends and will have already seen this.

But watch it again, damn it. lol.

http://www.thenation.com/doc/20090427/teabag_video

Awesome

2009-04-03T19:46:30Z

lmao. I was going through old files on my computer last night looking for something and I found this and I fell in love with it. I think I wrote it like 4-5 years ago back in college. I shall think of it fondly from now on when I think I can't possibly come up with anything to write about . . .

-----

The night was soft but daunting as I sat, alone, wrapped up in the comforts of my own endeavors, laziness, and the overstuffed chairs of the library’s fourth floor. The sounds were monotonous and may not have been there at all, the dragging of chairs across the carpet and the shuffling of papers in a nervous haste, somewhere, echoing only in the back of my mind and the only real commotion was the ceaseless buzzing of my thoughts, as always, never entirely still even during sleep.

I slipped back, the chair accepting me as I yawned. I didn’t want to fall asleep in the library again but it was always difficult, especially when all I had to keep me awake was reading about the exciting world of Cultural Resource Management.

There was a sound behind me and I turned. Expecting to see a passer-by, I was surprised to see nothing, so I turned back to staring out the window.

But the sound came again. My eyebrow in the air, again I turned. And again I saw nothing. Intrigued, I got up to investigate this, still expecting to see someone slinking around, looking for an empty study room or lost pencil. But there was no one, nothing.

Still concerned, I turned around and went back towards my seat. But as I walked, a shadow was cast from behind and it overtook my own on the carpet in front of me.

Slowly I turned. And there, standing before me, was what had plagued me incessantly for what seemed far too long. And now I stood before it face to face.

The unspeakable, unstoppable, relentless Demigod. The dreaded Writer’s Block.

As I faced the dyspeptic, dark leviathan Block it quivered, rolled with its inherent power as though taunting me, its gelatinous black mass tumescent with its own wayward agenda. I stared back at it, thinking to speak to it, to let it know about all the pain it had caused me, but--- as was the nature of its power, words eluded me.

And so I ran, robbed of the ability to utter all but the most offensive and guttural animal sounds, screaming like the hominid only on the verge of neologation, off and away from the Block and towards the stairs, down and down as fast as I could without falling over my own feet.

I reached the bottom and flew stumbling into the lobby, pausing only long enough to see the horrible Writers Block get out of the elevator, shaking as its scintillant cubic form waddled and quivered across the threshold and after me. It followed me outside and into the night . . .

Samhain 08

2008-11-10T20:48:45Z

Hey everyone. As promised to some of you, here's a little run down of what we did for Samhain this year. Honestly, it didn't come out as well as I had planned. You know how it is; I'm one of those people who either wants total control of something or to just be a participant, so when I have to depend on someone else to deliver on parts of something that *I* am being held responsible for, it gets a little hairy. hahaha. And what we did, trying to bring diversity to the group, was allow a friend of ours who practices Celtic Reconstruction to design the ritual along with me.

What we ended up with was this conglomerate of something that was neither drudism or cr, not wicca nor witchcraft, nor anything at all except pretty-- because some shit just happened in RL, some for me but mostly for our friend, that just didn't allow us to spend enough time going over the ritual, how we were specifically going to work the magic, and all that important stuff that makes it a ritual rather than a badly performed play with a flaming midget. Actually it all looked way better than the magic went off, although everyone else tells me it was fine and I'm being too hard on myself. Here a bit of what the house looked like during the party pre-ritual:

Here's me during the party part:

So here's essentially what we did. Our friend, Ian, assured us that it was proper Celtic tradition to burn a wickerman on Samhain. To everyone else this seemed like a Beltane thing, but since we were letting him lead we didn't argue. I built a wickerman, totally out of wood and grass from our yard, and Christened him Lucky MacTwigson the Magical Wicker-Midget (because he was only like 2.5 ft tall). This is what he looked like before he was lit:

I also built a circular grove consisting of 4 lit Tiki-torches, four lanterns on pikes, and four jack-o-lanterns on pikes (which were pretty sweet). Here are those:

So the ritual began with the idea that everyone participating would write out a little message on paper to stick into Lucky (in his handy belly-chamber, like Bender has). Asking for any blessings for the coming winter, for thanks for recent blessings, to get rid of any grudges or sadnesses (word?) that they wanted to get rid of for the new years. I also stuffed Lucky's head with fragrant incense and prosperity herbs, including juniper which is supposed to be holy on this holiday. Here's what he looked like in the circle:

So after Lucky was stuffed, Ian and I called the spirits of nature, the spirits of our ancestors, and the spirit of deity to be with us. And then I called the 3 druidic realms of sky, earth, and sea, and opened the portal to the Otherworld this was supposed to create. Not having any practice, as I said, I think I defaulted (in my visualization) to "Underworld"-- which created some issues later, but forget about that now.

Here's the group:

Here's Ian and me doing our stuff

So another thing which didn't jive was that Ian "fills the circle with sacred energy" by smudging. For me, smudging *grounds* energy and other things *raise* energy, so without having any time to practice I think we both sort of screwed eachother up, me trying to raise energy just with my mind and him criss-crossing it as he walked around in all directions with his junpier smudge. We never did get a nice big cone of energy like I wanted for Lucky's send off. Couple that with the fact that I was trying to keep the energy/attention of all the people there who'd never been in circle before . . . ergh.

Anyway, here's me lighting Lucky. At the last second we decided he needed an accelerant for some reason, so we added Tiki-torch oil.

And he did look spectacular ablaze, even after his head fell off and landed outside the fire pit and we had to do the Magic Native American Spark-Stomp Dance. Here he is in 3 stages in all his glory:

So after that we took turns leaping over the fire pit and (for those of us in robes) showing off our underpants. Again, this was all kind of Beltaney for me, but what the hell. That was fun. haha.

In the end the only one who maybe was disappointed was me. I had put so much effort into making it look swank that I was hoping for jiving energy to send it all up, but the gods want what they want-- so there. hahaha. There was enough intent and energy already IN Lucky when he went up (from everyone's wishes as well as from the fire) to send him off, so that was enough.

During the afternoon of the next day, though, Scott and I kind of had to do damage control in the circle of pikes, because Ian didn't dismiss ANYTHING he conjured and we had a big, gaping hole to the Underworld still open and many ancestor spirits still around. Plus, Ian dedicated the whole ritual to the protection of the Hill of Tara in Ireland which is under threat from highway construction--- and he made a connection between it and our sacred space without really running that by us. And even though it's a site of much importance, let's remember that Tara is nothing but a giant Sidhe-- a spirit hill and a connection to many things we didn't *necessarily* want frolicking in out backyard. So that connection had to be severed as well.

So that's that, really. :)

I've been given "U for Usurper"

2008-10-16T02:39:38Z

As challenged by ahavah_ehyeh, I have been given a "U" in this game -- a challenge I am well up to, btw, Amandawg. I don't need your pity N ;) mwwaa haaa haaa :D

Here's the Game:

1. Comment on this post.
2. I will give you a letter.
3. Think of 5 fictional characters and post their names and your comments on these characters in your LJ.

And here are mine:

Uhura-- Communications Officer on the original Enterprise on Star Trek, took incoming calls with flashy ear bling, wore a very short red skirt, once did a fancy dance with fans, and was famous for saying, "Captain, I'm Frightened" as well as "Captain, I have your Mum on finger three."

Uba-- from the novel "The Clan of the Cave Bear" by Jean M. Auel, she was the main character Ayla's adopted sister and the one who replaced her as the Clan's Medicine Woman and who adopted her son after Ayla was cursed with death.

Ursula-- the half-octopus, half-purple-skinned Diva Momma who was the villain in Disney's "The Little Mermaid." Guilty of taking Ariel's voice in exchange for a pair of legs and other acts of general sneakiness. Fairly good singer, even better baddy I loved to hate.

Usal -- another name for Paul Atreides, or the Muad-Dib from Frank Herbert's "Dune" book series. I don't know that I actually finished the book, but I remember giant worm riding, drinking your own sweat from a tube, lots of Jihad, and a dude who was a lot like Neo except he didn't have the Nehru jacket and shades.

Umbridge, Professor Jane -- from J.K. Rowling's "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix", she was the Ministry Representative who usurped Dumbledore as Headmaster of Hogwarts, tortured Harry during detention, annoyed us all with passive aggression, and who-- worst of all-- decorated Lupin's office with pink collectable kitten plates.

Boo-yah. :D

lessthan90sheep @ 2007-12-18T15:24:00

2007-12-18T21:25:17Z

Happy birthday, kaosangre!

:D

Nifty

2007-12-16T20:14:47Z

Take the "How Do You Use Magic?" test! Written by Brimo

lessthan90sheep @ 2007-12-02T21:38:00

2007-12-03T03:39:04Z

Hill-Dawg! hahaha

2007-11-12T15:14:44Z

A tie between her and Obama-- Big surprise. lol


	Hillary Clinton Score: 53	Agree Iraq Immigration Taxes Stem-Cell Research Health Care Abortion Social Security Line-Item Veto Energy Marriage Death Penalty	Disagree
	Barack Obama Score: 53	Agree Iraq Immigration Taxes Stem-Cell Research Health Care Abortion Social Security Line-Item Veto Energy Marriage Death Penalty	Disagree
-- Take the Quiz! --

My brain hurts

2007-10-21T01:11:01Z

Dumbledore was gay, JK tells amazed fans

David Smith
Sunday October 21, 2007
The Observer

There could hardly have been a bigger sensation if Russell Crowe, Rod Stewart or Sven-Goran Eriksson had come out of the closet. Millions of fans around the world were yesterday digesting the news that one of the main characters in the Harry Potter novels, Albus Dumbledore, is gay.

The revelation came from author JK Rowling during a question-and-answer session at New York's Carnegie Hall. It instantly hurtled around the internet and the world. News websites in China and Germany announced starkly: 'JK Rowling: "Dumbledore is gay".' One blogger wrote on a fansite: 'My head is spinning. Wow. One more reason to love gay men.'

After reading briefly from her mega-selling book, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, on Friday night, Rowling took questions from an audience of 1,600 students. A 19-year-old from Colorado asked about the avuncular headmaster of Hogwarts School: 'Did Dumbledore, who believed in the prevailing power of love, ever fall in love himself?'
The author replied: 'My truthful answer to you...I always thought of Dumbledore as gay.' The audience reportedly fell silent - then erupted into prolonged applause.

Rowling, 42, continued: 'Dumbledore fell in love with Grindelwald [a bad wizard he defeated long ago], and that added to his horror when Grindelwald showed himself to be what he was. To an extent, do we say it excused Dumbledore a little more because falling in love can blind us to an extent, but he met someone as brilliant as he was and, rather like Bellatrix, he was very drawn to this brilliant person and horribly, terribly let down by him.'

She added: 'Yeah, that's how I always saw Dumbledore. In fact, recently I was in a script read-through for the sixth film, and they had Dumbledore saying a line to Harry early in the script saying, "I knew a girl once, whose hair..." I had to write a little note in the margin and slide it along to the scriptwriter, "Dumbledore's gay!"'

Amazed by the warm reaction of the audience, Rowling, on her first US tour in seven years, joked: 'Just imagine the fan fiction now.'

http://observer.guardian.co.uk/uk_news/story/0,,2196020,00.html

In fact, not dead . . .

2007-10-16T19:44:30Z

No, contrary to popular opinion (or hope?) I, in fact, have not died.

I did, however, take a temporary hiatus and ran-off with the circus as a trapeze artist (or contortionist-- whichever is sexier, I suppose).

Back now. Sorry if I missed anything. (you can link me to any back-posts if they were really worth seeing).

Thank you everyone who sent me birthday wishes.

cheers

Pickles are Destroying my Life

2007-08-11T19:29:16Z

I understand this is an obvious fake, but it's still hysterical. hahaha.

Watch. Laugh. Feel smarter than you ever have before.

Dreaming about Schoolwork

2007-08-09T14:22:57Z

Been having odd dreams all this week, felt like sharing

See, in the past, I was normal for me to have stressful, anxious dreams about homework and projects right as summer vacation began/as the semester/quarter ended—as though my brain wasn’t quite ready to believe that the school year was over.

Since graduation from uni (over a year ago) I’ve had a few of these dreams on occasion, but there’s been a reason. For example, the last time this happened, my friend ahavah was stressing over putting off writing her Doula essays and I thought I was just picking up on it.

This week, though--- EVERY NIGHT---I have had very anxious, almost nauseating dreams about it being the last week/day of school and I discover that I have something due that I’d forgotten about, and I try to cobble it together last-minute and I feel stupid and slow and can’t concentrate for the panic. And one of my favorite professors is looking on disapprovingly, as though they can’t believe I failed them.

So what the hell? I’m a frinkin housewife, I’m under the least stress possible. I mean, I guess our lease is up next month and we haven’t found a new house yet, but I’m really not all that worried about it. Not at all.

Can I blame someone else? Lol. Who’s been sending me this stress energy?

Happy Brithday, Skan!

2007-07-31T01:24:27Z

Happy Birthday, my Love :D

As I finish Deathy Hallows . . .

2007-07-22T17:08:26Z

. . . and rejoin the world of the living again since the wee hours of yesterday morning. (No spoilers, honest)

And I quietly enjoy my private dance of infinite smugness, of unadulterated joy-- and of course of anger.

Honestly I don't know what to think. I'm not one of those people who can, say, immediately emerge from a movie theater and attest to a film's brilliance or ineptitude-- or manage to explain why it is so. All I can usually do is declare whether or not I enjoyed myself, and that's about all I can offer now. Not until I've had a chance to digest it all, that is, mull things over, and finally I can make what I consider to be well thought-out pronouncements. Whatever, that's a Libra for you. *grins* But I did enjoy myself.

I'm here for IMs again, anyway. *smiles*

Pottery Goodness. . .

2007-07-11T15:03:41Z

OotP Today! OMG OMG!!!

in honor of that, behold: South Park and Potter, together as God intended.

lmao. these are so worth watching. please partake.

For Shits and Giggles . . .

2007-07-07T23:19:07Z

My mom found this in a box in the garage, scaned it and emailed it to me. :D

*laughs*

*beams*

:D

2007-07-05T14:21:45Z

And the old Mog-ur took up the yellow ochre paste and held it under the stump of his lame arm, and the Clan was held silent, their heads turned expectantly in his direction. With his good arm the old shaman dipped his fingers in the paste and used it to draw the symbol of Blodyn's Elephant totem over Skandrannan's tattoo of his Wolf totem on his upper arm, and then he drew Skandrannan's Wolf totem over Blodyn's Elephant totem, showing their union.

"Skan, do you accept this woman? And Blodyn, do you accept this man?"

hehe. Consequently, guess what we're doing today. :D

YAY!

What color is your soul?

2007-06-22T14:48:45Z

Brown? Really? *raspberry* LOL. Actually I like the characteristics it gives; I just wouldn't have thought my soul was such a plain color. haha

What color is your soul painted?

Brown

Your soul is painted the color brown, which embodies the characteristics of calmness, depth, nature, stability, tradition, poverty, roughness, down-to-earth, uncertainty, and neutrality. Brown is the color of the element Earth, and represents soil and, to a lesser degree, fertility of the Earth.

Click Here to Take This Quiz

Quizzes and Personality Tests