Wildwood Flower Mandolin & Vocal

It’s June 20, 2011, it’s been a busy day, midst many busy days, the galleys for my book will arrive in a few days, which may make life UBER-busy AGAIN, so am kicking back a minute. My bud is near, doing rhythm guitar and what not; you’ll hear me ask if he wants a solo, but he doesn’t.

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Welcoming Newbies

Part one in a series on supporting newcomers in your spiritual community. May, 2011

I repeatedly see newcomers to spiritual communities treated appallingly. When I see wrongdoing, I try to do more than point a finger. It’s not that I bury my head in the sand. But recognizing a problem is half the solution. It is pivotal to think up positive action—key word action—to replace the wrongful act.

 Part one focuses on the power of giving a newcomer a simple hello. It might seem overkill to devote this week’s blog to saying hi, how to get yourself to say hi, and why to say hi. But I’ve been in a position to have met a large number of individuals who suffered immense pain from the lack of a brief bare-bones greeting. It is a more widespread and injurious problem than some folks might think. (I am referring to alternative groups—e.g., pagan, Wiccan, new age, shamanic. I don’t want anyone to let themselves off the hook by thinking I’m addressing mainstream religion, which there is not space to address in this essay. Also, I love and am part of these alternative groups, so I want us to improve.)

 I was at a conference. I met someone there who later became a student of mine. One day, she confided that I had been the only person at the conference who had said hello to her. I was horrified that this should happen at a “spiritual” conference.

Some people do not realize the warmth, acceptance, camaraderie, and even love conveyed by a simple, unadorned “Hiya.” They might not understand how much pain is caused by a complete absence of greeting. (Among other things, it gives the message, “Your presence is not important enough to even acknowledge.” Oh my Goddess!) Maybe that’s why people have given me a lot of (albeit valid) reasons that they refrain from saying hi to a newbie.

 One reason is being too busy. At that conference, I was a presenter for a workshop, gave a one-woman concert, and was the organizer for the opening ritual that 300 people attended.

Here’s the thing. You can smile and look somebody in the eye (or not look them in the eyes, if you’re too shy), and say hello as you run past them. I cannot tell you the number of times a one-second greeting from a stranger at a conference—or even a smile from them—has made all the difference for me when I felt out of place. (A long-time spiritual seeker can still be a newbie to a community and in need of welcome. It can be enormously reassuring and embracing. Small acts do make a difference.)

If you don’t say hi because you are shy (people don’t believe it, but I’m painfully shy), say hello shyly! Mumble hello or, again, just smile. If the most minimal greeting feels overwhelming, I suggest you try all the harder. That might seem counterintuitive, but I do understand how painful it can be—and impossible it can feel—when you try to overcome shyness or fear of rejection. Sometimes the only way to conquer them is to help someone else. (You might even watch for someone who seems shy or nervous, then greet them.) In fact, it is one reason I’m able to interact with so many people: If I’m focusing on the fact that they need support, my fear instantly vanishes. This simple remedy may sound ineffective; you have to actually use it to see whether it works for you.

If you’re rushing from one end of a building to the other, or are otherwise pressed for time, you may be concerned that greeting someone will cause them to corner you to instigate lengthy social interaction. Maybe you fear you’ll get trapped because you don’t know how to tell someone that you can’t hang with them.

When I trained the crew of that 300 person ritual, I felt it imperative that the attendees be greeted. Ritual should be a community interaction. And mystic ceremony is a hollow sham if it excludes any attendees (exclusion doesn’t require action; it can result from inaction, eg lack of welcoming), becoming like empty words from spiritual books that are recited but not lived. Nevertheless, it is challenging to authentically greet someone when there are only minutes before the event, you’re frantically getting last preparations in place, and extending a greeting might get you cornered. So I told my crew to practice saying hi (or smiling while looking people in the eye) while running past.

The gesture is usually appreciated; folks are made a bit more cozy from the sincere effort you’ve made amidst your busyness. Connectivity! If they try to corner you nevertheless, try these words: “Oh, I’m so sorry. I would like to chat but I’ve got to run. Sorry!” or “Oh, grab me after the ritual, I can talk then. Sorry!” It would not be rude to rush by them even as you’re saying all this. Practice this little speech until you feel confident that you can make your boundary. Practice saying it in a warm, caring voice. Practice saying it until you mean that warmth and caring.

 It’s worth the effort of practicing, because a simple heartfelt greeting can make all the difference to a newcomer who may feel just as, if not more, nervous and out of place as you. In turn, greeting the newbie can help you in ways that words cannot describe; again, it is something you have to try to see the benefit.

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Santa Claus Holy Cards

My Santa Claus Holy Cards Arrived!

To have conceived of Santa Claus holy cards is insane enough, but to actually design them and have them printed? My brain should be studied.

I am excited anyway. Santa is part of my pantheon, so I wanted a holy card for him. St. Nick is not just for the holidays! The card has a painting I made of St Nicholas, and a prayer I wrote that does not focus on holiday wishes.

I must attribute my girlfriend Kathi, who told me years ago that she prays to Santa all year long. She may have even said she keeps an altar to him. That’s all it took to turn me into a Santa Claus worshiper. Not that Kathi went on about a Santa theology or anything. But her insightful decision to interact with Claus all year long is really something, implying a theology in itself. I mean, if this is the guy that brings the goodies, any good heathen worth their salt is going to build Him an altar!

It is important to attribute Kathi for her few words to me.  Those who embody spiritual values (yes, I consider praying to Santa implying a spiritual value. Also, I mention embodiment not to imply that they perfectly live their beliefs, but rather to say they often focus more on practice than on theory) are sometimes perceived as if they do not have the fine minds or emotional depth needed to understand complex theology, the intricacies of  spiritual theory, or a profound cosmology. In other words, (I’ll make up a few names, before pronouns get confusing) when George extrapolates a great number of intellectual concepts from Tiffany’s straight-ahead, unadorned remarks or from one of her simple practice, George may not realize that Tiffany is well aware of  her practices’ implications, and simply chooses not to speak of them.

 Tiffany is in keeping with Buddha’s sense of spiritual living: He would not talk about theory or cosmology with his students, because he felt there wasn’t time to do that and still do all the practices needed. I also find that theoretical discourse is a great way to convince oneself that one is addressing the spiritual life, and thus is able to avoid actually living the spiritual life. The discourse can emotionally ground one, so one feels one has done what is needed, but one is not grounded into anything that will carry you through the day.

It is important to attribute people who inspire our ideas. Those are true teachers – – people whose actions lead us to right thinking.

We are at almost at the opposite end of the calendar year from Yule. My Santa holy cards arriving from the printer right now says, “All the year is for joy to the world and peace on earth.” 

Buy any item in my Etsy shop before June 16, 2011 and get a free Santa Claus holy card.

For more about my spirituality and Santa, check out Santa Is in My PantheonAlso What Do Elves Do on Their Day Off? (scroll down. Santa stuff is toward the end, right before people’s comments)

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Morning Routine: Hobbling to Fey Lands

Updated June 11, 2020: See end of post for further info.

June 1, 2011

Part of my morning routine is to carefully hobble through the house every day, for 10 to 20 minutes, to get my body moving and loose enough to function reasonably well. Note the term “carefully.” I cannot manage—let alone risk—careless moves first thing in the day. Without my cautious warm-up hobble, further movements will be painful, and possibly injurious.

This morning I hobbled to Faerie. (I was already there, actually, but not aware of that blessing.) I asked the Faerie Queen to guide me. She said she preferred to walk next to me. I enjoyed that.

Mind you, I am not one to suffer from the illusion that I should exchange the all-knowing guidance of a Divinity—and God’s omnipotent care—for an ego-ridden reduction of Deity to merely a friend. However, God can be both parent and friend. After all, She has all powers. I want to benefit from all of them! And, if my ego is checked, walking next to God is walking next to the Holy Friend.

I try to use my morning shuffle, and the subsequent physical-therapy work-out, as meditation (ritual, contemplation). Integrative being.

I’ve been thinking about Faerie cats the past few days. It’s not uncommon for me to muse on Fey felines. One of my favorite myths is about the cat who slept in the light bearer’s bed. (See Aradia, Gospel of Witches.) Also, I find all cats to be Fey, and haven’t been without a cat familiar by my side for decades. (See my painting of my Faerie cat. Along with the picture, I discuss my familiar—a trickster kitty—and how absurd synchronicities constantly show me the beautiful cosmic pattern of life.)

For years, I’ve been doing a dance with the white Fey feline down the road. The dance continues the past few days. (See Today’s Walk: The Forest and I are Angry, a story about the lessons that cat and a wild rabbit gave me about anger and peace.)

For some reason, when I first opened my eyes this morning, I glanced down at the floor. The aforementioned Faerie cat who lives with me was there, right below my head. She wasn’t sitting but lying down, as if she’d been comfortably waiting for a while, to surprise me with her gaze.

Her eyes are a signpost pointing to Fey lands, if those eyes are not an actual gate opening into Gaia’s mystic realms. Or sometimes she just transmits otherworldly energy to me—if I am open.

There are blessings all around me. The cat by my bed with the eyes to Faerie wants to give those blessings to me as soon as I am awake. The cat down the road wants to help me find them when I walk the road. Every atom in this room tries to both show the blessings to me as I hobble and bestow those blessings upon me. Instead of being aware of and accepting these gifts, I often unhappily scramble after happiness, hurriedly and hence injuriously hobble toward it, feeling forlorn, feeling happiness is impossible to achieve.

I pray:

Let me accept the small blessings because each is a portal into a happy and entire world.

The eyes of the cat are a doorway into wonder.

I take a single ordinary breath, and it echoes God’s breath, causing Her inhalation and exhalation to reverberate back on me till I am stardrenched.

Even each moment of my befuddled unhappy wandering is a descendant of my ancestors still dancing—my ancestors, the ancient stars. Each moment.

Each minuscule forward-movement of my crippled body or spirit is that same ancient but ever-wholly-new dance, a world unto itself.

Prayer to Notice and Enjoy the Small Blessings, Francesca De Grandis. Let me accept the small blessings because each is a portal into a happy and entire world. The eyes of the cat are a doorway into wonder. I take a single ordinary breath, and it echoes God's breath, causing Her inhalation and exhalation to reverberate back on me till I am stardrenched. Even each moment of my befuddled unhappy wandering is a descendant of my ancestors still dancing—my ancestors, the ancient stars. Each moment. Each minuscule forward-movement of my crippled body or spirit is that same ancient but ever-wholly-new dance, a world unto itself.

Note re June 11, 2020 update: Liking to combine my visual art and writing, I made myself and some of my students an ornamented Book of Shadows page that has this post’s prayer, and thought it’d be nice to add the BoS page at the bottom of this post. (Then I saw it might also be nice to add a few tiny paintings to the post as accents, noticed ways to make its language clearer, and fixed a link. Typical elf. Elves are always polishing shoes, pots and pans, and their own work.)

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Today’s Walk: Banging on the Gates of Faerie

Today’s Walk: Banging on the Gates of Faerie
May 31, 2011

I feel like I’m banging on the gates of Faerie. Sometimes I wander off without knowing it, then suddenly realize I’m far from home. I might return quickly but, at first, think I can’t. I am lost, feeling powerless and forlorn, banging on the gates of Faerie.

I found a felled tree today. It might be birch, a tree reputed to stand between the worlds (which is lore that makes sense to me, except for my experience that all trees stand between the worlds). I took a stick from it. Does anybody know what this tree is?(Forgive the blurry pic, but I tossed the leaf before I realized the pic wasn’t great.) Its leaf is also in the photo, but it dried before I could get to my camera, so you can’t quite see its shape or edges. Kind of heart-like. I also found this feather, which I assume is Cardinal, but that’s just because it’s the only red bird I see around here.

I talked with the Faerie Queen about returning to Faerie, but it didn’t provide a route. Maybe it did provide the Birch and feather; and they may be the tools I need to point the way.

The tree might be Aspen, aspen telling me that the door to Faerie is the now. Oh my gosh, that is so funny! I told someone that, yesterday. But in different words. He is in an awful situation, and I told him that unless he can face it and be “with” it, he will not be able to feel or be with the dynamic ecstatic Fey energy of the day either. I’ve been dealing with some really crummy stuff myself, so have been trying to practice what I preached. I guess the aspen’s telling me to keep practicing it. The ecstatic path must go through rocky terrains sometimes.

As to the red feather: I hear it telling me to skip process and go right to playtime. Mind you, I am not naysaying the process-oriented stuff above. But it doesn’t have to be the whole of it. I’m going to go put on red lipstick and some earthy-brown eye glitter. And relish the pure calm and magic and pleasure I feel from having written this . . . Ah, stardrenched. That last sentence did it. I am home.

I thank the Divine for making me a bard. Sometimes my poesy, no matter how lovely and insightful, is like a firefly that I chase until I am lost, far from the Divine. But other times, the bardic path is my route to You. 

 
As

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Today’s Walk: The Forest and I are Angry

Today’s Walk: The Forest and I are Angry
May 29, 2011

I have a new friend, a wild rabbit. Met Peace yesterday, and today Peace was waiting for me in the same place. This time, I was able to get closer. (A few years ago, I fed a wild rabbit from my hands. It only took a week or two for the rabbit to trust me enough to do that. City girl that I am, I was quite impressed with myself – – lo, wild woman of nature. Grin.)

 Peace gave me a lesson in stillness today, including transmitting the power of stillness to me.

(As I type this, I think of the ancient Faerie Faith, imagine a maiden gathering mushrooms in the woods, a Fey being granting her power.)

A few minutes later, I saw a white cat on the side of the road. It was motionless, and flat along the ground, so I became worried. Oh my god, is it dead? But when I got close, it got up and leapt away like a deer. Another lesson  in stillness.

 I walked on. The forest here is angry. Like me. My anger doesn’t devastate my internal landscape like it used to. But anger has crept back, crept up on me recently; I realized yesterday that I was carrying a lot of anger that I was unaware of, and it was messing with me. So I started working on that.

Not that I consider anger bad. It depends. It’s not bad per se, but it’s not always good. It can be self-destructive, tighten my innards til my body’s crippled.

So the forest and I were angry together, as a mutual healing.

Then I found a small feather. It looks like pigeon, morning dove, raven, or blackbird. But it could be none of those. It is small and beautiful. At first I discounted it, because it was not large and bold – not overtly shamanic. But I always tell my students never to discount a small mystical feeling or event, because it may be the opening to a larger one. Besides, larger is not always better or more powerful. I took the feather home.

I love my life. And give a prayer of gratitude to the committee of gods that runs my life, is connectivity, is creativity, is a source of secrets that surround us. Sshh.

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Magic Bananas (Dark Chocolate Mojo)

Magic Bananas is a stupid name for a recipe. That makes me happy.

I made this dessert up in celebration of shipping my manuscript off to the layout artist. This is serious dark chocolate, unmitigated by sugar, honey, or the like. I enjoy chocolate this way (which is fortunate, given my inability to eat sugar, etc. without ending up at the hospital); it is dark mojo.

Later: Oh my god, this came out well. A friend stopped by; she and I had to keep eating one piece after another. It tasted like the sugarless Faerie had taken over Willy Wonker’s factory. (Supposedly, I shouldn’t say that about something I invented. But it was so good. I thought maybe I was imagining it, but my friend doesn’t like dark chocolate, hadn’t wanted a taste, and then kept eating it, then asked for the recipe. Let’s pretend I got the recipe from a book. Fact is, last night, I really wanted a grimoire like in the movies: massive, leather-bound, metal lock and ornaments; when I open it, spirit winds whip its pages, the ornate text suddenly glows, and illustrations leap from the page. Since I have never seen one of those, I created one in my mind, deciding that when I open it, I will find the exact ritual I need. I tried it out; it worked! Maybe I subconsciously got the recipe from my mental grimoire. Hmm, which still means I made it up. Oh, oh, I got it: Ultimately, all things come from the Divine­—scientific, culinary, poetic, etc—so ultimately I did not make this up; the Divine did. That means I get to proclaim how good it is! God is good! BTW, I do enjoy a good verbal ramble. Did you notice the couple of lessons I stuck in there? Ssshhh, it’s a secret.)

* Melt 1 oz. baking chocolate with 1 T sweet butter.

* Add 2 ounces goat milk. If it is straight from the fridge, it may cause the chocolate/butter mixture to cool and therefore clump up. If so, reheat and stir till it’s smooth again.

* Put 1/2 ounce frozen orange juice concentrate and 1/2 ounce frozen white grape juice concentrate into a small saucepan. Heat until at least room temperature. Mix it into the chocolate blend.

* Butter the bottom of two pie tins.

* Slice 2 bananas crosswise (into rounds). Place the banana rounds on the pie tins, with as much space as possible between each slice.

* Put some chocolate blend onto each banana. The mixture was very liquid, so the chocolate flowed down over the bottom of the pan. I don’t care: I’ll just scrape it up to eat with the banana slices. I never complain about chocolate all over a plate. Later: When u eat a banana piece, eat it with some of the chocolate that dripped down onto the pie tin; I am not sure it will be as lusciously yummy otherwise.

* You’ll still have a lot of chocolate left. Lick the bowl. Or use a third banana instead of a spatula to wipe the bowl clean. (Do I need to add that you should eat the chocolate-laden parts of the banana between swipes?) My chocolate banana spatula tasted nowhere near as good as the final dish. Still, I enjoyed it. Licking a bowl or spatula always has its charm.

* Put the pie tins into the freezer. Eat when frozen.

Let me know how it comes out for you.

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Rewriting Hell. Writers are Crazy People: Part 2

“A picture is worth 1000 words.” But in this case, you may need another picture, as well as a few words that are not this page. This page is a follow up to — and may not make sense unless you first see — part one.

The tall stack is all notes I went through for my final rewrite on the manuscript. Note the word “final.” Been rewriting for years. Writers are crazy people. But don’t worry. It’s not catching (I am fibbing). Two days left (I wrote this blog Sunday, but posted it Monday = now there is one day left) to finish the rewrite, so I put some flowers and pretties there to motivate me. 

I put a measuring tape by the stack because it made me feel good to see how tall it is. This is the sort of thing that madness drives you to; writing is hard! This is not the only huge stack related to rewrites on the manuscript. As I said, this has been going on for years.

When a book of mine is finally published, I throw out all its stacks. This time, it will be quite a celebration, after all the roadblocks to this project.

The project spread around the house, but here’s a picture of the actual manuscript.  (I have no idea why I have to show it to you. It is some primitive need to share my process, not only with this picture, but also by talking about what’s going on lately while I’m alone, working.) It is on an old chaise lounge in my office — ladeedah, some crips need a chaise lounge in their office. (Joking aside, some of us crips do!)

It was supposed to be a month for the final rewrite, but I had to get an extension, so it’s been closer to two months.

Bit by bit—unless there’s an act of God—the book will be out in September. In two days I send the manuscript to the layout artist. Then I can catch up with my other work, as well as move onto the other steps of publishing, like talking with the book’s cover designer. 

I wish someone reading this lived close to me, so you could come over to celebrate in three days. If you are nearby, give me a call!

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Content, Not Form

Here’s what I wrote earlier today: Did vanity search. LOL! People repeat the same erroneous info about me and are upset I don’t say, “I’m deeper than anyone else, and I know secrets no one else knows. I can teach you to be pompous just like me.” LOL. They couldn’t spot a mystery or the Goddess if she was doing a rhumba in front of them. God, I’m laughing! Bitter people! I feel for them but can’t stop laughing. Thank God I’m such a fool, or their attacks would make me bitter, too! I’d “catch” their bitterness.

A bit later I wrote: On a sober note, I’m sad – actually sad in my heart – that some people think disdain makes them look spiritually superior and virtuous. Hate is not a virtue, and their attacks make me feel lonely. There’s so much to celebrate and laugh about in life; I wish they’d just come laugh with me! We could laugh at our faults together! I am a lonely fool, needing all the fellow fools possible!

Later still: After my laughter, I ended up feeling hurt by the same things I’d been able to rise above with laughter earlier in the evening.  And I got fearful their condemnation of my writing was correct, which got me confused about how to do the final edits on the book that I need to have finished in a few days. I’m past that emotional upset and insecurity now. I hope I stay past it.

These critics measure Shamanism (mysticism, spirituality, etc.)  by form, not content. They were just parroting each other, and they don’t know that 100s of readers have thanked me for helping them completely change – even save – their lives. I wish people understood that public figures are human; mean words hurt us. For one thing, for a while I was really starting to think my writing is terrible and lost confidence in the book I’ve been working on since 2003.

I thank the Divine, for helping me cleave to You and my friends, and for making me remember that the fruits of someone’s work show it’s worth. (How worthwhile can their criticisms be, if all it provides is nastiness and misinformation?) Please help me finish the last of the rewrites without those terrible, mean people’s remarks inside my head, muddying my mind and making me incapable of doing the final rewrites well. Help me do final rewrites that serve You and whoever reads the book. Thank you!

Finally, I wrote this, to expand on an earlier point: People who explore mysticism, integrative vision, shamanism, Wicca, the Faerie Faith, an ecstatic path, etc., usually seek depth. Unfortunately, (it really is sad) they sometimes wrongly think they have found the right teacher, mistaking the teacher’s anger, arrogance, or power-tripping for depth. Do not let these errant seekers make you must mistrust yourself or your choices. And I won’t let them make me doubt myself either, okay? Some of the most powerful mystics, shamans, and the likes are people whose power is so subtle, runs so deep, and is so confident that they just seem like “fluffy bunnies.” In the right circumstances, they say very impressive things. But most of the time, they don’t, because they know that it cheapens sacred experiences if you discuss them just to have something to fill the silence. And they know that  to, instead, hint at wondrous secrets is just as wrong; a secret you brag about isn’t much of a secret; a mystery you brag about dissipates. And they don’t endlessly expound on the meanings of mystic images and other esoterica. Buddha would not even discuss cosmology or theory with a student; he felt that it did not leave sufficient time for actual practice of the path. Most of the time, it’s not one’s words that show one’s depth. It is one’s energy, one’s bearing, etc. I trust bunnies, I trust laughing fools. I pray to the Divine, help me love people who do really stupid hurtful things because they think such actions are spiritual. We’re all on this path together, learning, and growing. Thank you.

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Pagan Mystic Springtime

If you need to see the pics better, click on one. The whole blog will appear in a new window; if that window is fully opened, the blog will look larger.

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