Enchantment

I have loved the word Enchantment since I was a small child.  It has always invoked for me the image of making music and making magick, as if magick and music were two sides of the very same sparkling coin.

To enchant a thing, or a place, or a person, is to sing over it, to whisper to it, to tell it a secret about its own magickal nature, about its own beauty and its own power.  To sing a musical phrase of its true name and set it free to become everything it perhaps never dreamed it could be, but was always destined to be.

I seek out those places and people and objects that are enchanted so that their magick and their music might sing to me, to my mind and my heart and my soul and my body, and my spirit and my shadows.

The mission of my Tradition, of my Community, is “to Re-Enchant the World” and indeed through my Coven and my Beloveds it does so, in part by enchanting me and my life, and I in turn strive to enchant the world around me.

Enchantment is something I strive to live.  I strive to enchant the things and places and people in my life.  I strive to sing my own true name to myself and to live a life of enchantment.

on loneliness and wishing on a star...

Sometimes I feel lonesome.  Not all the time, not every day, but sometimes loneliness creeps under the door into my tree-house and wraps itself around me when I am curled in my bed with my Pwca.  It happens most often when the light fades from the sky, when the weather is cold and I am less likely to venture out at night. 

Truth be told, I am a bit of a home-body.  I love my home and my Pwca is a wonderful companion but, as much as I enjoy the quiet beauty of my lovely rooms, and the solitude necessary to do my work, I sometimes long for the comfort of a warm human body and heart and mind and soul to engage with. 

Intimacy is a human need.  It is not a need that can be met through casual interaction in the everyday world.  It requires a familiarity that can only be found in the personal connection that exists between friends or lovers or family.

As the longest night of the year approaches, I am glad that I have a tree decorated with lights to cheer my home.  It will stand in its place until I can detect the return of the light.  I am grateful that I have a warm and loving feline spirit with whom to share my evenings.  I am grateful that loneliness is only an occasional visitor and that I will be able to visit with my beloveds on occasion over the next few weeks.

But sometimes, I wish I could spend the evening with my arms wrapped around a beloved and with theirs wrapped around me.  This is my wish for the new year.  The first star I see on the longest night of the year, I shall wish upon it.

Freedom

Life has been good this past week, settling into a happy balance and plans for new adventures.  The transformation I have felt has had the surprising affects of new perceptions as well as changes in my internal structures and the way in which I function.  There has been a real change not only in my perspective of who I am but, a freedom that I have never experienced before.  Most notably, I have experienced an inspiration that is far greater in scope than I have ever had. 

At work this past Friday, in a moment of quiet, I wrote on a blank piece of paper the name of my Coven.

The Weavers of the Moonfire

I looked at it and saw the faces of my coven-mates.  As I continued to look at the words and admire how beautiful they are, I saw the title of a novel.  Not only that but, I saw the world in which it takes place, the characters, the plot and the vision that I want to share.

In the past I have written poetry, character sketches and short stories.  Some of which I am quite proud of.  I have tried to write longer pieces of fiction as well but, the stories have always died within the first few pages. The larger work of imagination has always eluded me, until now.

 I think that stories have to tell themselves and the writer is a conduit first, then a craftsman.  I have always been so focused on the responsibility of crafting something of value, and crafting it well, that I have not been able to let the process, the story itself, take on a life first. 

In the past, I have felt the need to constrain, analyze and construct.  In the past few days I have been able to let the secrets of the story remain hidden until they present themselves to me through the act of writing.  I can see glimpses of them in my peripheral thoughts but, I do not feel compelled to catch them and examine them in bright light under a glass in detail.  I can allow them to remain hidden until they are ready to become seen.  And I am enjoying the adventure and the discovery immensely.

It is the difference between wandering in the woods or sitting alone in the windowless silent room in the second grade doing multiplication, because my teacher felt that I was distracted,   (she didn’t understand that I could daydream anywhere and that quiet, gray prison created a stronger need to do so than the classroom…she meant well but, an abacus would have been more helpful).

I am enjoying the feeling of living without chains, or cages, or locked doors.  I am enjoying the freedom of life without constrains.

Epiphany

Having left my job without another secured, I have been searching actively every day.  I spend a lot of time looking for jobs to apply to. I have also been fighting against the feeling that I should feel guilty and miserable and do nothing except job search until I secure the ONE position that will absolve me of my “sin”. 

A full-time, day-shift, office job that pays enough to meet my obligations.  Some of the parameters I have placed on it are mine.  No Sales, close to home.  But a lot of the “rules” do not come from me; they come from someone else who gave me the rules years ago.  I am still trying to comply with someone else’s idea of what my life needs to look like.   

Finally, yesterday after a very vivid dream that began the process, a conversation with my ex-husband (the source of some of the original “rules”), a conversation with my High Priestess’ youngest son (who is currently in college) and a few hours spent with a wolf-pup (all dogs are wolves), I had an epiphany. 

I live alone, with just my Pwca (and he cannot tell time).  I am not a morning person.  I like a lot of different things and can do a lot of different things.  I really miss actively practicing massage.  I don’t like being constrained, or having all of my “eggs in one basket”.  I like structure and I crave freedom.  I am capable of creating the structure I need.

It finally occurred to me that I can build the life I want to build.  It can look the way I want it to.  I do not have to please anyone but me and Pwca and all he cares about is that I am happy and healthy and home regularly.  He has finally begun to play again.  I had been very concerned for his welfare lately as he has been lethargic (reflecting my ill health).

So I have been daydreaming and imagining what I WANT my life to be.  I am continuing to search in the traditional way but I am considering part-time jobs, evening shifts, and doing many things at many places.  Meeting new people, becoming a part of my mundane community, and having fun.  A few shifts at one place doing one type of work, a shift here and a shift there doing different things in different places.  Having time to give a massage to someone once in a while, having time to write and of course having time to spend with my Moonfire, my community, my family and friends.

Having faith in myself, in my Gods, Ancestors and Guides.  Having faith in my abilities and my own hard work.  Living in faith and not in fear.  Living out loud, without the need for an escape route.   I have always wanted to be that person.  And yes, it helps immensely to know that my family and friends have my back, that failure will not be catastrophic.  That Pwca and I will never be homeless or starving (or separated). 

But I am not so focused on the possibility of failure; fear is not the overriding principle in my life.  I want to remain in my treehouse and if I can build my life the way I want, I will.  The future is as yet unknown and unwritten, but I am finally able to imagine it like I never have before.  I am not afraid.  I can create that which I dream.  I can build the life I truly want.  

Summerland

I was very fortunate to grow up in Pennsylvania.  The place I grew up was more rural than not. I now live in a small town not far from my parents' home and I am still very fortunate in that the borough in which I live is a small town surrounded by mostly rural townships.  I do not take any of this for granted.  I do not believe I would thrive in an urban environment.

But I do not take advantage of the blessings of my surroundings as much as I could.  I drive to work 5 or 6 days a week. I work all day in an enclosed building (banks do not have windows that can be opened). I drive home and eat something and I spend time with my Pwca, reading or writing and performing my daily practice.  On Sundays (the one day the bank is closed) I spend an hour or two at a place beside a stream in the woods at a park 5 minutes away by car.  I take offerings and I sing and I listen. 

These visits are completely necessary for my well being and my health, and for nurturing my relationships with the Fae. They are also necessary for nurturing my soul, my spirit, my relationship to my Self.  They are healing and learning and life giving. It is there that I can breathe in the air and hear the trees and smell the water and feel the sunlight and watch the Herons glide silently with strength and grace.  It is there that I can remember the magick I felt as a child.  And it is there that I can feel it once again and reconnect with the universe within and without. 

Summer is a time when the magick of life is full to overflowing.   The air is warm and fragrant. The trees are in full leaf in a million shades of green.  Fish swim in the deep waters and birds fly in the blue sky.  Deer run through the woods and foxes too.  Fawns come out of hiding to follow their mothers.  At twilight, fire-flies rise from the grasses to blink in peridot green to find each other and fulfill their life-purpose (to mate). 

I love summer in the natural world.  I love walking barefoot in the grass and in the mud and feeling the breeze on bare arms and dangling bare legs in cool water flowing by.  I love sitting in the shade of the trees and hearing the wind whisper in the leaves.  I love watching the sunlight create stars on the surface of the water. 

The past few weeks I have been working at a new place and the drive to and from work is longer.  I can no longer retreat to my home in the middle of the day, and when I get home I am tired and sore.  But I need to spend more time walking outside.  Some things are just more important than how tired and sore I might feel. 

I am going to try to walk for a few minutes after work every day.  There is a cemetery on a hill behind my home and I am going to visit there each evening.  The Summerland is a name Pagans sometimes use to refer to the place our souls may go after incarnation, or that our spirits might visit between incarnations.  It is a place of beauty and peace and rest, full of pleasures and fruit and flowers. But the word invokes in me the life of summer in the land where I live, where I have lived my entire life.  I need to spend some time everyday in the land of summer…at least until the Wheel turns again.

Hedonism

I am a hedonist.  Perhaps not in the classic definition, I don’t believe that pleasure is the only good thing, the only goal worthy of pursuit.  But I do believe that pleasure and joy and happiness are noble goals.  I believe that I am in this body, in this incarnation to experience the physical, the emotional, the intellectual and the inspirational.  Pleasure and pain, loss and longing, joy and grief, happiness and sorrow, love and despair are all worth experiencing, this is about how very important it is to experience the physical pleasure of life.  This is about the treasures that I experience because I am alive.

The silky sweetness of a piece of chocolate melting on my tongue and the first sip of coffee, warming me from the inside as it travels down my throat to my belly.

The breeze drifting in through open windows and greeting me in my bed and the comfort of warm soft blankets against my skin.  The sound and vibration of my Pwca curling up against me and purring until he falls asleep and the warmth and softness of his fur against my hand.

Birdsong outside my windows in the morning and the chirping of crickets at night.  The wind whispering in the leaves of trees and water dancing over rocks in the stream and heavy rain drumming against the earth.

The cool, heavy stone in the palm of my hand, the light of the sun or the moon shining in the window and reflecting off the crystal bowl of water on my alter.  The light of the candles flickering and the scent of incense drifting in my room.  The sound of my prayers as I sing them in the evening and the feeling of power emanating from my body to make those prayers.

The sparkle of water on my skin in sunlight and the feeling of the breeze making the droplets dance.  The sound and light and color of snowfall and of sunrise and stars sparkling in the clear night sky.  The glow and crackle of a wood-fire and the voices of beloveds singing and laughing and talking into the evening.  The feeling of a favorite dress moving as I dance.  The silky coolness of mud between my toes. 

The kiss of a lover that quickens my pulse and raises my body temperature and leaves me breathless.  The caress of a beloved, her soft, cool, slender fingers or his strong warm hands.  The soft place just above the hip that needs to be kissed and the smile that results.  The music of a loved one’s laughter and the sheer joy in knowing that I made them happy.

The fluid expressions on the face of an infant and the completely self-absorbed determination of a toddler testing the realization that they can impact their world. 

The soft steady breathing of a beloved as they sleep.  The quickening of the babe inside the womb, the warmth and weight of the newborn in the crook of my arm, the strength of my sons as I hug them as grown men.  The feeling of my daughters’ hair as I brush it with my hands, the indulgent smiles of my grown children when I tell them that they are beautiful and that I love them. 

The memory of all of these pleasures.  These are the lights, the treasures, the gifts of life.  These are why I am here and why I am grateful and happy to be.

Happiness is a Choice

“Happiness is a Choice” by Barry Neil Kaufman is a book I read about 24 years ago when I was in the middle of one of the worst depressive episodes I have ever lived through.  I don’t own it and I have never read it again but, some things I learned from that book have stayed with me.   The first is the title and the truth of it. The second is that feelings follow thoughts which follow actions.  I do not believe these things to be true, I know them to be.

I am not talking about some pollyanna placebo, or platitude.  I am not talking about some kind of “positive thinking” quick fix.  This is not about “6 easy steps to have everything you want”.  This is about how to do the work to change your thoughts and habitual emotional patters that result in chronic clinical depression; recurring, debilitating, suicidal-thinking kind of depression. 

If you are in the middle of such an episode, please seek help from a psychiatric professional, now.  If you are in crisis, you are in need of emergency medical attention.

Psychotropic medication and intensive therapy have never been a part of my healing, if they had been, I might have learned how to cope with my shadows sooner.  For whatever reason I have had to learn things on my own but, Mr. Kaufman’s book helped me to understand the patterns.  It helped me to analyze my own thoughts and the feelings that followed them and the behaviors that perpetuated them.  It helped by giving me a place to begin. 

I have learned how to take responsibility for those patterns, and how to recognize them before they evolve into yet another long term episode.  It helps to understand the mechanism of depression, and to understand that, for me, that mechanism is within my control.  It is something I can affect and change.  I can choose.

One of the most important choices is NOT to act today on the impulse to do something destructive.  I don’t have to decide never to act on the impulse, just not today.  Sometimes that is the best you can do.  Not act today.  Sometimes you have to create a reason to not act, so you find something, anything, but you do not do anything permanent today. 

Then there is the choice to do those things that you do not want to do.  Get out of bed, take a shower, go to work, go outside, talk to another person, and eat (even if you have no interest in food).  Turn off the TV and turn out the lights and give your body a chance to sleep.  Insomnia, not eating, inactivity and isolation are behaviors as well as symptoms; they perpetuate depression.

When you are suffering from clinical depression, these things are all incredibly difficult but, not as difficult as changing the thoughts that go through your head every moment of every day.  Changing those thoughts is possible and necessary but, it is not easy. 

Like I said, this is not about “6 easy steps to have everything you want”.   There is nothing easy about the choice to be happy, but it is absolutely worth the effort.  I am a happy person today.  I choose to be happy every day.  I have a life that I love and a wonderful companion who gives joy to my life every day.  I have a home that nurtures my soul; I have community and family that support me and my work.  I have work that I love and that allows me to express myself and my truth. 

Sometimes I don’t enjoy going to my job but, it allows me to support myself and my companion.  Sometimes I experience disappointment and stress.  But happiness is not about having everything that you want nor is it about ease and leisure.  It is about being happy with what you have and making choices to change what makes you unhappy.  It is about taking responsibility for your life and pursuing your own happiness.  It is about being grateful for the blessings you have and choosing to release those things that harm you.

I find it wonderful that I can choose every day to be happy about the sun shining or the rain falling or the snow or the wind.  I find it amazing that I can get out of bed and go to work and pay the rent on my little tree-house.  I find it beautiful that every day I can choose to be happy with the life I am creating and that I can have faith and hope that I will find that which I desire in the future if I continue to follow the path my heart sets my feet upon.  I find it magickal that even through the long nights of darkness; I get to choose to be happy in the night and in the morning.  I find it a miracle that I can choose to love.  I choose happiness.

On Falling in Love

I have been thinking a lot lately about falling in love.  Not considering it, but rather reflecting upon it.  I have been remembering the times in my life when I have experienced falling in love with another.  A boy named Jimmy when I was 11 (I kissed him in a row boat).  A boy named David when I was 14.  Another David when I was 18.

A beautiful woman named Annie, barefoot in a red dress on stage at the Tower, when I heard her sing “Carpet of the Sun” for the first time (I was 19).  Harpo Marx, when I saw a scene of him playing the harp to a beautiful blond in a black and white movie (I think I was 9).

A cat named Spot when I was 5 (he lived till I was 19) A black puppy named Kansas City Jones when I was 20 (he lived till I was 31) A little black kitten named Scooter when I was 30 (he bonded with the dog)  A grey cat named George and a black kitten named Jack.  A tiny black kitten who was born in my bed at 1 in the morning and who lived for 51 hours (I named him Merlyn and buried him in the garden and cried for 3 days)   Most of all, my beloved Pwca who I found at the SPCA.  I never even noticed the others in the room.

My nephew and my niece the first time I saw their faces and every time since.  My son and my daughter when I first felt them move inside me, when I first saw their faces in my dreams, and again when I held them as babes, when I met them as 18 year olds, and every time I see them now.  My son-in-law the first time I saw how he makes my daughter smile, and every smile since.  My granddaughter when I saw her face in my dream and then in my vision. 

My closest friends, my recent lovers, my beloveds.  The God the first time I met him and every time since, the Goddess every face she has and every time I meet her. 

Falling in love is what happens when your soul recognizes the spark of magick in another soul.  Even when it is a brief glimpse of that spark in the soul of a stranger.  It is a moment when that part of you reaches out and connects with something outside yourself, when it instinctively understands the miracle that exists in another.

Falling in love can last a moment or a lifetime.  Life holds infinite chances to recognize the miracle.  Be willing to fall.