Nothing Normal Left?

The hard rain is falling here…

herlander-walking

When times are rough and tumultuous, perhaps without full acknowledgement, we underpin ourselves to bits of beauty and normalcy with a tighter tether than usual.  Since November, things have been especially tough.  Yes, yes, I can hear the gleeful howling of the maniacs – but mine is scarcely a new admission.  The schadenfreude of the Right is unmistakable of late.

But political upheaval and Agent-Orange-in-Charge aside?  Life has been a tumult anyway here.  So finding a personal balance has been a challenge.  There has not been much “typical rhythm” in our lives of late.  All my usual little daily rituals fell away in lack of time and energy.  All but one.

I’m not going to deeply discuss that “one” and what happened to it.  Let’s just say, that without my notice, “it” subtly became the linch pin that held me together in every essential way.  “It” was a wall against…

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A Bit of Bitchery, Not Witchery

Ok, since I thought perhaps shyness, fear, trepidation was the reason for so little conversation, I made this blog private by invitation only.

Still no conversation. So hey, be honest — if nobody but my grouchy old self is going to talk, just say so and it will be public again faster than the small stupid dog wolves down his food.

Because I frankly don’t give a damn, nor a rats ass, whether anyone dislikes what I am saying!

Breakfast (Brunch?) With Jack

Is it really breakfast still if it happens after noon? I woke up with my shoulders and back in spasm.  Today is the day the new washer arrives and the used, larger, dumber old school refrigerator.  So before my coffee was downed, I moved things on my bread making counter, got up atop it, and slipped down behind my current wide but shallow fridge; to push it straight out into the kitchen to clear the space for its replacement.    Something crunched alarmingly as I pushed it clear.  But, triumphant, I pushed it across the kitchen and plugged it back in on the other side.  Only five minutes later did my husband notice the bloody prints across the floor.

Apparently a piece of glass was the crunch and as I pushed the fridge, I stepped upon it and took a goodly chunk of skin and flesh off one toe.  :::sigh::: That kind of day?  We bandaged my toe and I dressed to go to lunch with the Germans anyway — delivery won’t be till afternoon.  By the time I arrived, my back was being a misery and my toe, inside my low boot, felt oddly squishy wet.  My appetizer was a shot of Jack Daniels to kill the pain and close surface capillaries.

But it is not the thing to quit.  Minor hassles are – well, minor.  Fuck them.  So, why, those of you here ask, the privacy of shut doors here at Steel Kachinas?  Because physical hassles are easy to see, feel, and address.  Here, we will be discussing more subtle hard-to-track and react sorts of hassles.  Here we will have to discuss things others might dismiss as mere shadows.  But even shadows have their effect, their beauty and elusive qualities measured only on the subtle human soul, don’t you think?

Shadows, reflections, and invisible things – that will be our workplace, our tools here.  It feels like we’ve overdosed on Harry Potter, perhaps?   I know that this blog has many followers that boggle my mind; they are Christians and some of them of the liberal philosophical sort, but others  are of the rather fanatic “suffer not a witch to live” mentality.  Sometimes I think they follow my blog as a sort of surveillance – tho’ saying that aloud in print makes me feel like paranoia is my middle name.  Mind you, my personal belief is that their nasty vengeful “only ME” “God” is but a well-fed thought-form being and no really deity at all and they couldn’t “prayer warrior” their way out of a wet paper bag.  I do not want to feel censored, or have any of my viewers and commenters feel that need to self-censor.  Thus, the privacy to openly discuss things that might not be squeaky logic, things that might be paranoia!

Only open discussion will allow us to weed the fears in the garden of our actions.  I tend to do this aggressively.  I too well recall all the spell beggars on AOHell going on and on and on about being hexed and they “knew it by the pimples on their little chins”.  For everything I’ve ever thought might be negative magic in my direction?  I’ve debunked it myself in 90% of the questionable cases.  But even non-magical (don’t say “muggle” or I will throw virtual cat litter bombs at you!) fanatical monotheists CAN cause mischief.  I believe this is because magic or whatever it’s proper name ought to be IS the inheritance of humanity.  So, while their conscious minds might flail and tell their god to do it for them, their unconscious minds might just let fly with something maliciously effective.  Thus, as Hekate Demeter has told on her blog, the need for psychic protective measures.  And non-psychic stuff like a privatized blog.

So, when I am not tossing furniture about like a Klingon girl in love?  I will come up with what we military sorts called the “SOP” — Standard Operating Procedures.  These are not only daily operating procedures, but trouble shooting guides to keep the normal going normally.  Yes, magic has results – both where the person wanted it (if lucky) but also, frequently within the sphere of the practitioner.  This does not mean the 3-fold law is operating, not to me.  Nor do I acknowledge karma.  I acknowledge exhaustion, lack of focus, lack of spell crafting precision.  And yes, I acknowledge attacks.  Most attackers, in my experience, expect the attack to be like a freaking A-bomb: they expect you to drop dead/out of action at once.  Slinging it back at them usually puts them on their ass in every sense of the word.  So, I want to come up with an SOP of what has worked for me since I began, once upon a tentative time in about 1986.

And all of you here, intending to participate may toss in your own suggestions of course, or question mine.  I don’t DO “high priestess” except for the Dead.  So I don’t give commands to any of you any more than I do to them.  I “suggest” and occasionally make warning sounds.  A priestess SERVES.  I serve the dead, and I serve America for which they died.  We must raise a wall to counter the one Trumplethinskin wants to protect him from the brown people – a wall to protect what America was meant to be, what it has tried to be.  We must protect and serve the vulnerable, the powerless, the frightened.  Not with hostility and negative hate; but with an overarching love and compassion that will put itself like a shield betwixt the haters and the America-at-risk.

Make it so!

 

A Few Things Off My Chest

I’ve been troubled on so many levels since November 8th, that I feel a wee bit like Indiana Jones, dropped into the tomb full of snakes. But I like snakes better than I like the things disturbing me, to be honest, because snakes ARE more honest.  They kill to defend or to eat, not to be mean.  People can’t always say that.  I have tattoo’d snakes going up my left arm, and people sometimes shudder to see them.  Snakes don’t make me shudder, people DO!

These things that trouble me, things that marginalize and “liminalize” me, sap my energy.  These are things from my alleged “own side” that make me tilt my head, scrunch my eyes, step back in dismay.  To me, long a student of history and schooled in the ways of “the Red threat” — these are things I could safely categorize as “fifth columnists.”  Do the perpetrators of these troublesome bits KNOW they are a danger to their own side?  I rather doubt it.  They THINK they are helping to whip up the troops.

But they are whipping fears and divisions and hatreds.  They are fanning negative flames instead of building warming home-fires.  What do I mean?  I’m only going to hit a couple examples.

Well, for one thing, almost every day when I get the mail (and email), there is a plea to send money to this or that candidate in some other state.  This bothers the hell out of me.  To me, the people IN that state are the ones who should have the say in THEIR election.  Some years ago, here in Washington State, there was an effort to get through a bill about gun sales.  And oh, the OUTRAGE of the Democrats that the NRA and their many “civilian” supporters sent money from OUT of STATE to “interfere with OUR election!”  Well, pot meets kettle, don’t you think?  IF it is wrong for the Right to do it; why would it be right for the Left to do it?  Yes, I am big on the idea of fighting fire with fire — but you have to know when that fire is going wild to burn EVERYthing.  So hell no, my money will not go to other states even to support candidates for ‘my’ side; I think that is a political SIN to interfere in the sovereign voting rights of other citizens of my country.  . I think that is overstepping the bounds of political decency.

Then there is this little hate-clad thing about the wife of the Presidential Celebrity Apprentice (because ISN’T he an apprentice?). First there were snarky signs: “Melania, are you alright?”  That was semi-funny.  But also semi-sad; because when I looked at most of the photos, she actually looked tense, possibly frightened.  She looked like a woman doing an unwanted performance and she was largely ignored by her husband as she did it.  Then there were bloggers saying, “Well, first I felt a little sorry for her, but she married the jerk — so she can lie in that bed.”  Wow.  How fucking compassionate is THAT?

This woman was an immigrant.  Personally, having been hungry and desperate enough to want to run away from where I was in my life?  Had I actually run and an apparently rich and powerful man offered me marriage so I could stop worrying about hunger and a roof over my head?  I’d likely have taken him up on it, too.  And any of you out there sneering down your nose about now, saying “Fucking never!” – tell me how hungry you have been.  Tell me how much you struggled and for how long with NO help before you judge me OR her, ok?  Does she regret her choice now?   I don’t know; judging by his divorce record I’d say chances are she might.  I sort of wish that wasn’t true for her sake – because an unhappy marriage is such a hell that starvation doesn’t sound like such a bad way to go.

So, if it was shitty of the Republicans to trash Hillary, and her daughter?  If it was wrong to call First Lady Obama an “ape” — by what fucking fair play rules is it right to pick on a woman who still sounds like she struggles a bit with English and is just hoping to raise her son in peace?  Also, it is pretty shitty fucking feminism to blame a woman for her husband’s bad behavior; remember how you ALL said that when Trump blasted Hillary Clinton with Bill Clinton’s bad actions?  

So if you want to be spoken to civilly by ME?  Knock that classless shit OFF.  STAY on the message instead of engaging in cruel, useless ad-hominem attacks on wives of ANYone.    About now, I’m sure someone wonders why this largely political post is here on my “spiritual blog”?  Well, because if a person believes in attempting magic?  They need to know something about the energy the practitioner  is going to be trying to throw about, ok?

IF the witch/magician/sorcerer/shaman/priest/priestess is polluted with hate, anger of the wrong sort, etc?  Then their magical energetic aim is NOT coming from a premier source and it damages the effectiveness of the working.  This was clear in Dion Fortune’s letters, as I recall.  She told her groups to keep working positive — to focus not on attacks, but protections; not on tearing down, but on building up.  And that resonates for me with political action.  We can resist all the horror we want, but if ALL we do is react to dreadful things and fear?  We are not building something effective in which to survive and live.  That counts politically and magically.

So, as this blog will soon go private, and I will send invites and accept emails asking for invites — let it be known, if you do NOT clean up your own act first, you will not be part of this virtual circle.  Trust me, it’s not easy.  I know.  I am a bite and smite special, myself; but I know when I have to bank the fires of anger to keep the warmth and avoid the melt-down.  I have to MAKE myself look to what makes it better.  IF this post gets you all riled up and righteous about “who the hell does she think she is?”  Well, then I am almost certainly talking to you.

Don’t just get scared by the world that needs fighting, get righteously angry at the wrongs being done.  But don’t just get angry – get rationally and constructively engaged.  To do that from a place of pure flowing energy means you can’t pour emotional/political poisons into the fucking cauldron!

Deep Breath….

…Not a good week here. Tired, feel like a gut bug of some sort is chewing through me. I know I said that this blog was going to go private at some point, I think I may be about there.

For one thing, there are few readers anyhow; so I’d prefer to feel a bit more protected so I can be a bit more personal. Second, since I expect to go a bit deep-endish in discussions about the Magical Battle of America? I’d rather not have those posts be public.

Doubtless I will feel less unraveled when my gut settles down; but I’m just not feeling the vibe to be all public-spirited this year.  Nor likely for the next four years.  So, who will I list as a “user” on the blog?  I know some of you commented before asking to be listed.  If I had the energy to search out that post it would be better — but I do not.  I will say in advance that I will likely only list folks I actually have known online for some time.  So, no, every current “subscriber” does not get an automatic “in”.

Call me paranoid, but hey, I LIKE it in the dark, ok?  I just prefer to know WHO or WHAT is there in the dark with me!  My last public post may be next Tuesday’s tarot posting.  I do sort of wish WordPress was like Dreamwidth, where I can make some posts private and others public — but I don’t have that option here.

Of course, that brings up the option of moving the private posts TO Dreamwidth to herlanderrefugee@dreamwidth.org instead?  But how many of those readers who want the private bits want to move to Dreamwidth.  I know, I got bloody sick of playing musical chairs with blogging platforms – so I hate inflicting that option on others.  But it would leave this blog public, if rather rarely written upon.  All the deeper darker and more private stuff could go on an access list on Dreamwidth.

What do you, you few, you bored, you who still read this, think?  Speak now before I turn out the lights and march off to the woods….

Into Nesting

vsf My unofficial “third son” has arrived home from the Marines.  That is him in the photo with the Manchild on the left, Marine on the right.  Thus the cars are out in the cold and a stack of furniture is in the garage. Piles of lumber further fill the space.  Before the next week  is over two new walls will rise in the garage — one enclosing the immobilized and insulated garage door, and one splitting off a long narrow “tool room” between laundry room and “nest” to be.  We have one month to build walls, properly frame a window, paint, and electrically equip a space for our returned Marine and the wife who will soon join him.  I am SO excited!

We hope to make a room about 350 square feet for their nest while he attends school and she acclimatizes to the Pacific Nor’west.  I am terrifically excited about this.  Our lives will be a welter of change this year.  My eldest, the Manchild/T-Rex will be leaving us sometime this year to go to Eastern Washington where his new beloved awaits him.  There will be wedding bells sooner or later!

Our youngest son, nick-named Raptor, will move to what was once my Haven and take the dogs and the Magpie kitty with him.  My allergies to dogs will be delirious with joy, but I’ll miss Maggie the Thief.  I will receive Beatrice the Furball “only pet” cat in exchange.  The Haven will be a music rocking place then – it has a piano keyboard, drums, guitars, and amplifiers now!  It will be full of dogs and cats and laughter.  What could be more joyous?

The Marine and his bride will have a private place, but share kitchen and bathrooms with us.  Under our sheltering roof they will have time and protection to build their civilian life.  The Minotaur and I are being the change we wish to see in our world. What a difference, had we once had even half the chance we are determined to offer to them!  My husband would not be facing the same debilitating injuries of his long service, had he been able to get out earlier; but then we might never have met each other!  We don’t regret or resent our pasts – but we sure are relishing helping someone else build a future starting out at less risk!

So the gardens may be neglected this spring.  But we will prepare rigorously for next spring.  This year, our lives are blossoming with expanding family, with love and inclusion, with rest and recovery.

Remnants and Resistance Round My Neck – From Bowling Green to Reality?

Being a humanistic pagan who wonders (as she wanders) whether what is commonly called magic is not a lost art/ability of human kind, I do engage in experimentation. Perhaps it is mere wishfulness? Perhaps it really sets something in motion in the real world?  It is certainly more honest and thoughtful than most of what I see coming out of T-45’s White House.  He thinks mere saying something makes it so; I am nowhere near so naive as that.

As alchemy grew into modern chemistry, I wonder if certain forms of magic didn’t somehow miss a cue to grow into something?  So I “play” from time to time, sometimes getting completely un-repeatable results (of course!) and other times not being sure of any result.  Unlike those pagans so sure magic is potent enough that I should NEVER do what I am uncertain of for fear of releasing something Chulthulu-like into the world, I do not believe I have anything to lose OR fear by my attempts.

corvettineSo when something synchronistic happens?  I feel the need to experiment.  Yesterday, my Minotaur husband gave me an early 40th Anniversary gift, since I gave him his gift early, too.  Mine was a pretty pendant made of what is called “Detroit Agate” or “Fordite” — it is the multi-hued hardened enamel paint prised off automotive paint lines.  Mine came from a Corvette* line in Bowling Green, Kentucky!  BINGO! (*Since I am not a huge Ford fan, I prefer to say my pendant is made of Corvettine!)

But looking at it, I knew it needed a chain to wear it round my neck and resolved to make one.  When I make jewelry, it often has a ritual or magical significance; I find pretty things used often a marvelous focal point for “things I want changed”!  The moon is waxing at the moment and the ground outside is covered in a layer of thick pure white snow — such a mental canvas to imagine upon, eh?  I am a physical sort, merely lighting candles with intention never feels enough to me.

I went to my altar and took five little bi-cone bead bracelets down.  They were in colors emblematic of the four archetypal elements: green (Earth- material powers), blue (Water- emotive powers), red (Fire-intention, passion), yellow (Air- thought and clarity) and a final nigh colorless bead for that elusive “fifth” called “aether” or “will” or “spirit”.  As I wired each bead, I absolutely fumed with magical intention based on the quality symbolized by the color.  With green beads, I invoked finances drying UP to hateful groups and individuals, or the very Earth itself defending itself.  Blue beads made me call out for empathy to impress itself upon hardened, hate-filled, fear-flogged minds.  Seeing red, well, that one is rather obvious and easy, no?  Yellow beads made me want clarity and REAL facts to take priority and acceptance.  The colorless fifth, well, I sometimes free-floated there, letting my longing for justice and fairness simply play the “song of my people”.  My people being progressives who don’t want to be fear-flogged into stupid hostility, of course.  My wire choice was silver coated, because YES, I do want the future to be female!  Then, a strand of thin leather, because I DO want to bind my Will to this reality in need of changing.  Over and over…I wired the beads together, speaking of purpose and hope, anger and despair; it was like a meditation that poked fingers and stabbed under fingernails and I mindfully put it ALL into my working.

On the clear beads, the “fifth” that unifies the other four?  My mind wandered to DNA, the map of life; and guanineadeninethymine, and cytosine, the four nucleobases of DNA.  My mind would like to think that equates in some symbolic way to the four elements (hey, I SAID I was wishfully thinking!)  Would guanine be Earth – first isolated from batshit?  Would adenine be Air – since meteorites might have brought it from space/sky and since it has to do with cellular respiration?  Of course, such talk is just an impossible analogy; a would-sure-be-nice metaphor trying to birth itself!  Four elements, four constituents of the map of life?  And so it goes, I completed my Resistance Remnant necklace and hung it round my neck.  With every perception of it there?  I think on how to propagate truth instead of propaganda; facts instead of fear.  I make red-minded phone calls.  I write emotive blue letters.  I keep saying “NO” in capital letters.

I keep my mind together and on the ramparts in the wild waves of an America where too many think “resistance” means saying no to humanist behaviors — like NOT hating people not your skin color, like NOT thinking women are walking wombs instead of full human beings.  In times like this, I muse bitterly; that might be magic enough — since some of my allegedly progressive friends have already stated their intention to “put my head down and wait it out” instead of mounting any resistance, magical or otherwise.  I voted for Hillary, and I stand with Hannah.  Did I mention that the rune of this house is H for hagalaz, because we are always up for the fight, and find the “hard way” is usually our only way?

It would be magic, if America, over all could come to that realization right now!

And No Fucks Were Given

I feel like a smaller blogger than usual today. I know I’ve been sick for just over a month, and finally think I will NOT be added to my state’s fatality rolls from the flu, but geez, surely fever and all that cannot be responsible for such low stats?

It is a very unusually quiet Saturday morning here.  Even the cat offers me nothing to work up a “Caturday”post — she is passed out sleeping on the footstool.  The Minotaur is at his veterans group, the sons are at work — no guitar riffs or emailed photoshop work emanating from the building they use for such things.

It has been hard to blog for the last few months.  Not that there isn’t a surfeit of things to bitch bitterly about, but so many other bloggers beat me to that and do a more articulate job.  No, it is more a case of Will failing to wake up from the nightmare that makes the news these days.  I remind myself that taking that attitude to heart will be what makes America buckle under the load of bulimia inducing Orange-“aides” from the White House.  Even over at Herlander, my more political rave and rant blog, I struggle.  I get few comments, few “likes”.  I get some comments I DON’T  allow to post.  Fuck those Trumpeteer guys anyhow, ok?  Likely they are the same yahoos signing my email up for all sorts of instantly junk-filed right-wing newsletters?

But here?  Where I explore touchy-feely me?  Where I contemplate whether or not belief and attempting to change reality to accord with my Will is anything real?  There have been a few outright calls in the pagan-sphere for action, and I SO agree; what have we to lose, really, by smiting and hexing at will.  If it works, yay – go team and if it doesn’t; well, the Kantian in me sneers at Nietzsche and says “Intent counts, you fucker!”  The Nietzschean in me  is doing a RA RA pom pom shake for Will to Power, specially the power to topple hypocrites.

I wrote letters today.  How 20th century of me, or maybe 19th since I used a fountain pen for half of them.  I wonder if my lack of comments or likes online is because I just frankly suck as a blogger, or if people are too afraid, too paranoid to put themselves out there even in such a small way?  Thus, letters to some folks I really care about.  It really is hard to tell; I actually prefer to think I suck than to think people are SO afraid that every comment is noted and passed on to would-be Gestapo sorts.  Because if there is THAT much paralyzing fear in my country?  Well, we have already lost then.  When did we become such wussy sorts?  Do we actually think he can lock up or disappear ALL of us?  Those of us who hate his Administration are actually the majority.

I’ve called or written my Senators almost every day of the last two weeks.  I’ve noted softening in the news about fighting appointments made by our Fearless Feckless Leader who is already ON vacation before a month is done.  I tell you, with the way he has his family spread out and what with tying up traffic and security in several states at once?  They should sell stock in the costs of Secret Service!

Laundry and garden planning, meal cooking, walking till the coughing stops me.  Life goes on, both after possible enlightenments AND after apocalyptic elections.