Shedding the Pounds

I've been trying to lose weight the last couple of weeks - I've been exercising by riding my bike to school, eating better, drinking only water. The first week I gained 6 pounds. I was livid but Michael said it was only water weight and when I finally lost it I had also lost two pound so regular weight. So, in the spirit of bettering my life I began spring cleaning and in the spirit of water weight I gain a whole bunch more stuff before I was able to get rid of other stuff. So now my house is trashed but I got rid of 3 bags of garbage and several boxes yard sale goods...

Selfish

I decided, since everyone is out of the house and its my birthday weekend, I'm not going to clean the house alone.

Power Dynamics of the Patriarichal Home

I feel like I'm stuck in some power struggle I don't quite understand. Mike fought all night to sleep on my side of the bed. I've slept on the same side of the bed for 14 years and suddenly last night he started sleeping on my side of the bed and refused to budge. I slept on the couch for part of the night, tried to sleep on his side to no avail and finally wrestled what little space I could on the edge of my side. As soon as I got up to wake the kids this morning he resolutely moved back into my spot. What is going on here?

I know I'm a little OCD that this even matters but seriously - you run your life a certain way for 14 years and then someone up and changes it without explanation, without remorse.

Keira's another one. She looks me straight in the face this morning and tells me, "I have no clean clothes." Her drawers are filled with stacks of clothes we bought her at the beginning of school and here's the kicker: Some of them still had tags on them. So when I put the nice new jeans on her she throws and absolute shit fit. Yelling, screaming, kicking. You'd think I'd suggested we lobotomize her the way she was carrying on.

Ari and Donovan have chosen their sides, the quit doing homework two weeks ago and have been lying about it ever since.

I'm tired. My psychologist says the only one I can control is me but it feels like when I stop trying to control them they either give up or gang up on me. The house is trashed because no one will clean it but me and I haven't had time. Homework isn't getting done by anyone but me. And I don't even get a side of the bed anymore. And this is where I'm supposed to come up with some startling revelation that will help me deal with myself and the world around me but you know what? I got nothing.

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1.02.28

I Curse Her For Leaving the World the Coward's Way

"I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted

To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.

How free it is, you have no idea how free——

The peacefulness is so big it dazes you,

And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets.

It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them

Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet."

-Tulips Sylvia Plath

I know that need for peace that she speaks of. The image of pale white palms open on white sheets is almost religious, I have seen pictures of Jesus and Mary with their palms facing outward like consolation. But the hugeness of the peacefulness, and the permanency of it... That is what scared me away.

Now the need for the quiet, for peace, is not so alluring and I can gain peace and happiness from my day to day mad rush. I can take a minute before the family wakes to write this journal. I can sit on my meditation pillow and ask the goddess or gods for Grace. I can ask them to grant me peace and tranquility. Yesterday they gave me the gift of the flowers. Today I can only imagine what they will send my way. Tomorrow, perhaps I will get no peace at all.

But the important thing is that I know what Sylvia wanted and I know she finally got it. I commend her the strength she had in going through with it but at the same time I curse her for leaving the world the coward's way...

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1.02.28

Jung Would've Laughed...

I dreamed about bad poetry and old high school gyms all night. I also dreamed that my old boss got a promotion and was moved into the basement. The faculty down there was dirty. One of them was an FBI agent wearing a wire. They almost killed him until I hit one of the glass walls with a baseball bat. The climbing wall was made out of pvc, plastic and duct tape and little kids slept in the folded up bleachers. Maybe Freud would laugh too.

Dreams aside, I've started to get a complex that the world it out to get me. I know that sounds crazy but if you can't sound crazy in your diary where can you sound crazy. The only people who read this understand that I was already crazy years ago anyway. Anyway, when I need to do homework the internet quits, when I want to clean the house the kids go on strike. It is as if every time I want to get something accomplished some thing goes on the fritz, as if I'm still in a dream. A very frustrating nightmare. I know my shrink (and probably Freud, too) would say that my need to control the world around me is short circuiting the things I most wish to control. My kids represent my ability to control my family's future and ensure they grow up to be good, well rounded people with stable futures. The internet represents my need to have stability in my life where the bills always get paid, the power is always on and we always have a roof over our heads. Despite my best attempts I just can't seem to keep my bills paid on time. Maybe that has something to do with the strange current of incoming funds that seems to dry up suddenly, or maybe it has to do with the fact that I tend to spend money on stupid shit instead of important things.
I think Jung would see this as a stage in my process of individuation. I'm recognizing the issues lodged deep in my psyche and now I just have to figure out a way to fix 'em. And I do recognize, as I mentioned in my last post, that I'm controlling and co-dp. I guess I'm also a little high strung and over-dramatic at times. (The world is out to get me?)

By the way, its really hard to take the morning seriously when the sun hasn't even gotten up yet.

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1.02.28

Hangs her head in shame...

Ok, so I've been a horrible blogger and an even worse diary updater. Usually when I've gone this long before updating I give a really long recap post so you all know what has being going on. This time I'm not. Sorry but here is the recap: Shit happens. And it happened to me. A lot.

I'm working on two things in my life right now, my need to control not only every minuscule detail in my own life but also those around me, and my co-dependency (from her on out referred to as co-dp). I'm pretty sure these things go hand in hand but if I chose to take them as two small problems instead of a giant humongous single problem, its less overwhelming. I'm reading a bok called "Co-Dp No More". I'd love to say I'm no longer trying to control everyone around me but I haven't made that much progress. I have made enough progress to recognize that I am a controlling bitch that suffers from roughshod insanity when things are out of whack. So that is some kind of progress.

In school we are studying the Confessionalist poets Lowell, Berryman, and Plathe. I realized shortly after we started that they too suffered from roughshod insanity. A ton of poets and writers were. Completely, shithouse insane. I feel like I'm in good company. This is a good realization in my life because by recognizing the problem we can take steps to solve it, right?

In the meantime, I feel fall in the air and I love it. I want for it to be mosquito and allergy-less.
I want the smell of pumpkin on my hands, the smell of chimney woodsmoke and fresh baked bread. I want everything that is fall. Summertime has officially become a doo-doo head and needs to go to away. I think I want to use this as my commonplace book. I have been keeping my commonplace book in my backpack but it is giant and heavy and it makes so much more sense to post it here. A commonplace book is a journal filled with art and poems, stories and vinettes written by you but also by people that you admire. Its like a collection of moods and emotions. I've never done one online before and I think it might be tricksey but I'm going to work for it.

I found a long lost friend on facebook and she accepted my friend request but now she ignores me and doesn't answer my wall posts. Ok, I can see being pissed off at me and I totally understand holding a grudge but why accept my friend request? Why not just ignore it? Another friend that is still kind of angry at my treatment of her in highschool accepted my friend request with the caveat that we not talk about the past. That makes complete sense to me and I respect her for it immensely. We've both grown and become different people so it is important to leave the past behind us. Maybe I'm reading into it, maybe the more recent add is not still mad at me from high school but is just too busy to respond. I'll set it on a shelf and let it stew a little bit.

5 days until my birthday. Thirty four. This number doesn't hold any fear or angst for me. I just really don't give a shit. I remember when I was a kid, every morning on my birthday my mother would ask, "So, do you feel any different?" I remember I always tried very hard to reach down inside of me to find a 'differentness' but I never could find one. I guess the last couple of years I've just stopped looking for the element of change inside of me. I am changing all the time, making myself a better person; more spiritual, more giving, more patient. My age doesn't have anything to do with that. Wisdom comes with practice not with time. Again, I guess those go hand in hand.

I'm going to apply for a job. I know this ruins my "June Cleaver" credibility but to be honest the house doesn't stay any cleaner with me being home than it would if I were bringing money to help pay the bills. My house is a shambles. I'm sorry. It will be clean when I retire. I've have one of those spectacular perfectly clean and tidy homes when I retire. Right now I'm doing what is important: Helping Keira learn to writer her letters, helping Ari with her spelling lists, helping Donovan with his "Allow ballcaps to be worn in school" petition, and keep my own grades up.

Next? Maybe a poem.

Crossroads Woman

My surgery is scheduled for December 10th and while I am super thrilled about maybe getting rid of the pain I am still at a point where I am mourning that part of my life. Though I am being physically ushered from the mother stage into the crone stage earlier than my body planned, I also find my spiritual life following along behind.

I'm doing a big paper for my Honors Art and Mythology class where I take a really in depth look at the social and historical factors involved in the Demeter and Persephone myth. It has pulled down, headlong, like Persephone herself into the Underworld. I see the symbols left by the myth everywhere. In Underworld, we find that Selene has been brought over as a young girl to vampirism by the "King" of the vampires. This directly correlates to Persephone being forcibly removed to the underworld.

In John William Waterhouse's Narcissus we find a young girl picking flowers, oblivious to the dangers in the world around her. Indeed, Narcissus were the favored flowers of Persephone and Zeus told Hades where he would find her.

In the Matrix sequels, we find a character named Persephone who is married to a gangland boss type character who owns a club called Club Hel. Her husband figures into the story as being in charge of lost souls.

A sometimes used character in the Persephone myth is Hecate, Goddess of the Crossroads. She is sometimes styled as a psychopomp who journeys with souls into the underground, her torches lighting the way. She is the goddess who presides over crossroads where three roads converge and I find this especially telling in the trinity of the Three aspects of Woman. If Persephone is Maiden, Demeter is Mother, the Hecate is Crone. Persephone is, more precisely on the cusp between maiden and mother, she was a maiden but her innocence, her childhood is "dead" and she has tasted of the pomegranate, a fruit that mimics eggs in the womb. Demeter is on the cusp between Mother and Crone. She is mother but her child has grown and left home. Her action of bringing winter to the world is a symbolism of her now barren womb. Hecate too, is a woman on the cusp of a great journey, for she is the wise woman of cronehood but can also travel into the world of the dead. This leads me to believe that all the main female characters in the Persephone myth are one woman and that woman is all women. We are all at the crossroads. In honor of that realization I jotted down this poem:

Crossroads Woman

At dawn, her shadow sat like fat limbed Cupid upon the wall.
She bathed in the sweet nectar of Narcissus blossoms,
Her journey was just begun.

At noontide, her shadow stretched like the silken locked Kore
She bathed in the sharp, tart juice of the pomegranate,
Her journey half done.

At Evening, her shadowed rounded like Hecate upon the wall.
She bathed in the heavy scented musk and clove,
Her journey undone.

She was a woman at the crossroads, and had always been so.

Dia De Los Muertos

Charles T. Snyder
Alberta Synder
Marion Snyder
Thomas Fetters
Price Chisolm
Richard Fetters Sr.
Richard Fetters Jr.
Jean Block
Bertha Ronkko
Andy Ronkko
Donna Barber
Julie Morgan
Bonnie
Hector Telles

A Dream on the Wings of the Wind

It was really windy two nights ago. A cold spell roared in on the wind and the temp dropped so quickly during the day we got snow. Anyway, the wind sounded just like the ocean. The trees blew, the leaves rattled and it sounded like waves rushing in and out. I must have heard the sound in my sleep because I had a dream about the ocean. I have had, throughout my life, a reoccurring dream about a river in the Gila. The rocks are flat and red, sometimes trees, sometimes people, sometimes scrub and sand. It differs from dream to dream but its always the same place. This time the river was the ocean. The kids hadn't been to the ocean in a long time, Keira never. They were afraid of it but I bullied and badgered them into going to dip their feet in the surf. I have Keira and in my arms and the older two run ahead. When we get to the surf, however, the waves are twenty feet high and they go over our head. I struggle and fight to surface knowing that while I can hold my breath for a little time, poor Keira's lungs are much smaller and won't last as long. I fight and fight but to know avail. Then I realize that the fighting isn't getting me anywhere and I relax. In that moment, I am so calm, so happy, I have my baby in my arms and I'm drowning.

That's where the dream ends. It was still predawn at that time and I got up and stood outside. The wind was blowing so hard. I was clueless as to what the dream meant but I realized that it wasn't a scary dream, I didn't wake up crying or afraid. Just calm, thankful for the wind, loving my children.

Cosmetology... I don't think so

I did a bunch of things with the kids again today. I'm finding more and more often that I'd rather hang with the kids than do my homework. I"m such a mommy. Well we got some liquid latex from a friend of ours and tried very hard to make elf ears by dipping spoons in the liquid latex. We got one that looks kind of like a regular human ear, one that looks like a leper's ear, and one that looks roughly like a deflated boob. I'm not sure what I'm going to tell them. I think they are going to be out of luck this year because I am short on money and even shorter on time. If anyone out there has ideas and/or extra elf ears let me know. Then I got bored with the ears. Its liquid latex so it literally can be categorized with watching paint dry except for the fact that Keira thinks it smells like "buttocks". I think that's her super polite for year old way of saying it smells like ass. I'm staring at one of the mutant flesh colored spoon condoms now. Its mocking me.

We got invited to two Halloween parties this year (four if you count the two we can't get to) and one of them is a birthday party that includes trick or treating in a very cushy-cush neighborhood. I'm happy we'll be going with Becca because I was dreading going alone and Mike wanted to stay home and hand candy out this year. I envy him. So little kid party, some trick or treating and then over to Bill and Rachel's for the "Family Friendly" party. Love it. Did I mention trick or treating in the rich neighborhood?

So after I got bored with the ears I decided to do the other thing I've been promising the kids we'd get to. We dyed their hair. The picture at the top is Donovan's before picture. Now its like 6 hours later and my back is permenantly torqued, my hands are stained various colors and there is a huge dollop of blue on the bathroom floor. Stupid mobile home builders, who puts maroon carpet in a bathroom? Mike always drips on the damn thing coming out of the shower and then I step on it 15 minutes later and think I've stepped in dog piss. Oh? You don't want to hear about wet carpets? You'd rather see the after pictures? ok.

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Building up suspense in an obnoxious way.
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Don't try and adjust your screen. My kids really do have leprechaun green and peacock blue hair. The bottles said "Demi-permanent". I'm not sure what that means. Is it better that semi? Or worse? Who knows. All I know is that my back is killing me and my kids look fantastic. And smart. Did I mention Ari got on the A and B honor roll? Yeah buddy. Blue is code for "Damn I'm smart!"

Catch a Tiger By The Toe

My really sweet older kitty Kizmet has got this really bad regurg issue. We've had her for about 13 years and ever since we adopted her if she ever eats or drinks to quickly she immediately loses whatever it was she drank. When she gets sick she makes this really strange high-pitch mewling noise that is very distinct and I've learned that if I get her when she makes that noise I can get her onto the tile so she doesn't yarf on the carpet. Lately, however, she's started to dash under the bed when I head for her and my maybe-authentic-but-threadbare-persian-rug isn't exactly benefiting from the fact that Kizzle is marking it indelibly with her own personal essence. So it has been an adventure that always starts with the mewl. She mewls. I carefully move forward with my hands up in a gesture of innocence, making noises of my own, "Here kittykittykittykitty. pstpstpst. c'mon sweetie." She eyes me warily and changes position, aiming for the bed. "It's ok, Kizzle, c'mere kittykittykitty." I lunge and she, who is considerably fast for a puking fourteen year old cat, darts out of reach under the bed. I shudder knowing I'm going to have to move that bastard queen to get at the mess.

Today went differently, however. I actually caught her back foot. She couldn't run away, she only has back claws so she couldn't scratch me and she was a little busy yarfing anyway. So I held her by her back leg while she puked onto the thick maroon pile of the almost shag carpeting we have everywhere the Persian isn't. I realized shortly afterwards that cleaning cat vomit off of tightly woven Persian is ever so much easier than out of shag and thanked the goddess she hadn't puked in my bed.

Visual Aids

I have started reading a bunch of pagan mommy blogs and I realized how long its been since I posted pictures of my kids (5 years! Can you believe it!) so I thought I'd add some of the most recent ones.

Ari a little over a year ago

Keira in her Halloween 09 costume

Donovan last May

Its so weird how quickly time flies.

All Things Considered...

and I think that's what happened. I didn't consider all things before posting my previous rant on the injustices of hatred. Some people that I've never met and probably will never meet said some nasty things that hurt my feelings and made me cry. People saying nasty things all the time and it doesn't make me cry. I live for writing workshops and art critiques where people sit in a circle around you and tell you how much you/your art sucks. Tough skin is a trademark of the arts industry. I'm more likely to be offended if my art isn't mentioned at all than if its torn apart because then at least I know its worth the effort of the critique. Shouldn't I have felt the same about PPD? That people mentioned it at all is a GOOD thing, it means we've gotten peoples attention. It means that maybe one person will learn that we aren't evil.

With all that in consideration... what happened?

PMS - Now before you feminists go all crazy on me for being a traitor to the gender, let me explain. I know we've been working to remove the stigma of PMS inhibiting our ability to be rational. I know men have said for centuries that women can't make good decisions because they are led by emotion and not logic. But sisters, I have to be honest with myself. I get PMS. Sometimes its subtle and indiscernable but sometimes its a raging torrent that makes me cry at Disney Vacation commercials. Sometimes I cry because I can't chose between a white cable knit sweater with wide cables and an identical white cable knit sweater with narrow cables. So maybe I freaked out a little. But I'm ok now and I am back to respecting that this is AMERICA and we are given the freedom to voice are opinions even if said opinions are mean.

Dononvan and Ari are watching The Wizard of Oz to Dark Side of the Moon by Pink Floyd. I love that my kids are interested in the same things as me. Distracted much? Uh yeah.

Anyway, back to what I was saying before. In my stories I always have the main character come to this dramatic realization and shift and the workshoppers are always telling me that its not realistic but I just proved them wrong because I had a dramatic shift of opinion. God, I'm boring myself now.

I posted This Article a couple of days ago, so proud that we had found our voice and were able to try and spread a little tolerance into the world. I had heard whisperings and murmurings in the pagan world about comments that followed in the wake of that article but by and large ignored them, suffused with a golden glow of community spirit and pride for humans at large. I was proud that we had made such strides as late in terms of racial and socio-political tolerance. We, as a country, elected the first black man and a woman was in the running. The bias of 'good 'ol boy' politics was seemingly going by the wayside and I had real hopes that religious tolerance would closely follow.

So many of us have differences of opinion. So many of us have contrasting points of view on religion, politics, and race that it has become a cliche to avoid such topics in public. Emotions seem to be tied so closely to those topics that the mind/mouth connection seems to have temporary failure and people spout out the first thing that comes into their angry and indignant mind without first considering the effects their comments will have on others.

Last night I finally gave in to curiosity and started out reading the comments following the article that is posted. Immediately I felt set back. The ocean I was treading had become so thick. I read with burning face the comments people had posted about pagans. Some had called us "deluded", some called us "circus freaks", "freak shows", one person even said we should make amends with the fact that we were "possessed by evil demons". The one that hurt the most was the person who claimed we were only going through a phase and soon we would realize our mistake and come back to the fold. Pagans then started posting back and it became a huge flame war. I read all three pages of comments and realized that one element was missing. No one realized that whatever are religious or political views were, we are people. We have hopes and dreams, secret insecurities and strengths. We eat and sleep, love, hurt, mourn, support, nurture, and express joy the same as anyone else. The comments were quick, brutal, and unemotional as if the commentors didn't realize what they were saying was hurtful. No one backed down, no one side won. It was a neverending, meanspirited, battle of words and it hurt me deeply to read it.

I didn't post a comment, not because I am a better person, but because I didn't want to perpetuate the hate. There was enough anger on that board without me adding my two cents. I considered the comments of both sides all night and still have that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

No one cares anymore. How is that for a broad generalized statement. The pagans who organized Pagan Pride Day did it in an attempt to educate the general public about paganism and to build bridges between pagans and other religions. But no one wants those bridges. People hate as if the hate itself is the important part, not the group they are hating. It doesn't matter if you are a pagan hating Christians or a Christian hating pagans, the result is the same. That rush of adrenaline, that smug, self righteous attitude that you are better than whoever you are criticizing. I understand the allure of hate. I too have angrily told the Jehovah's Witnesses to stop proselytizing on my front stoop, I have told the panhandlers to stop begging and get a job, I've hated on adulterers and hypocrites, fundamentalists and politicians, pot-smokers and lax parents. It was the hate that made me feel more important, better about myself. It had nothing to do with whether I was right or wrong.

When I lived in Philadelphia I had a coworker who became my friend. She was a gorgeous black woman with beautiful blue eyes and a honest, quick wit. When I told her I was pagan she put her hand on my shoulder and looked at me with concern in her eyes. "Awww, honey. Don't you know you're going to go to Hell for that?" The hate and the judgement were noticebly missing. This was just an honest woman who cared about the status of her friend's soul and that has stayed with me longer than any of the hate mongering I've received because of my religious choices. I appreciated her faith, her honesty, and her caring. She appreciated that once she had made sure I had all the facts, I was an adult and capable of making my own desicions. We never spoke of it after that. She never condemned me, she didn't stop being my friend. She was a good person and I will never forget her. I have often tried to emulate her since then. To be honest, caring, and a friend no matter what choices others make. In the end, it is their choice to make and they are all adult enough to make that choice.

What we need to concentrate on is making sure that we follow the essence of goodness. I can talk all day, spouting cliches about the repercussions of your words and actions being like ripples on a pond or the single beat of a butterflies wings causing a hurricane across the world but those are trite and old and no one listens to them anyway. So instead I chose not to post a comment at all. I came here instead, to get my thoughts in order. To work my way through the pain I felt when reading those hurtful words and to hope one of these days, posts like this won't be necessary for me anymore. Or for anyone.

Tis The Reason for the Season...

I went shopping today. I got, guess what, yup pumpkins and candy for trick or treaters! I got two medium sized pumpkins, one for me and one for Mike. Then I got three smaller pumpkins for the kids. Tonight will be pumpkin guts mayhem and I love it sooo much! Just the thought of roasting the pumpkin seeds, the ooey-gooey squish of gourd guts, the laughing as Donovan chases the girls around with said gourd guts, the thick sweet taste of egg nog and the spicy bite of hot apple cider, the whirl of power tools... screeech. Whirl of power tools? Yup, you heard me correctly. Mike is bringing his Dremel home from the metal's lab so he can carve his pumpkin. I asked didn't he think that would make his Dremel all... ucky. He hesitated for a minute, the silence on the other end of the line indicating some major coniving on his part. Then he dropped the bomb. "I'll just have to stop by Harbor Freight and pick up a cheapy Dremel then."

Wait. I think I almost missed that. The man wants to BUY a NEW tool so he doesn't ruin his old one when he does his high tech pumpkin mutilation?

I'm almost finished with Keira's costume and I'll post pictures when its complete. I have to create a mopcap and sew some bows on, figure out if I want buttons or ties on the back and then she should be done. I was just sitting here dreaming of buckle shoes for her. I have a similar pattern for myself and I'm thinking of maybe using it this year. I have to get my submission for the English department scholarships first though. I can't blow this chance to lower my loans. So, I'll work on the short story I'm writing called "Red" and finish Keira's costume and then I'll step back and take stock of how much time I have left. If I don't get it done I have a ton of things I can rig in the meantime. That's why its awesome to be a Renn Faire junkie, always lots of costumes lying around.

The Jehovah's Witnesses came back today. I have a sneaking suspicion it was the same woman as last time. I told her very politely... ok maybe I got a little snippy. Anyway, I told her that there were signs clearly posted on every entrance to the park that designated it as a no solicitation zone and whether she understood it or not religious solicitation is still solicitation and could she please stop giving religious tracks to my children when they were out playing by themselves. I didn't actually tell her that last part but I told her not to solicite. She ignored me and went right next door. ARG!!!

Last but not least: I'm following a new blog so make sure you check her out. She rocks. http://mama-blogger.blogspot.com/. Renee has a wonderful sense of humor. She's got kids. That seems to be an important concept for me when it comes to blogs. Mom, English Major, Sense of Humor. Or any combination of the above anyway.

Well, I think that's it for now.
Luna

Trying

I'm trying to post a little something everyday, whether its a blurb of writing on facebook or a blog entry. I'm not sure how reliable I'll be. I usually do pretty good for a bit and then I get lazy or busy. So, no promises but I don't think anyone reads me anyway so its really just for me anyway.

A friend of mine never posts to her blog because she only ever has moody stuff to write about and doesn't want to whine all the time. I kind of feel the same way. Mike and I fight a lot because I have a hard time being positive about my life. I'm always either sick, tired, or hurt and that kind of puts a damper on the moods. That and I'm having a really discouraging time with the whole weight loss thing. So... between the pain and the exhaustion there isn't really anything much to cheer about on a blog. So I hardly ever write.

But, I've had a good couple of days so I'll post about those. I aced all three of my midterm exams even though I was seriously flipping out about a couple of them. Also, we just had Pagan Pride Day and that was really nice. I am hesitant to practice ritual with strangers but there were enough people there I was familiar with to make it ok. It was odd, but nice to do a ritual again. Its getting to be too long between them.

I am applying for more scholarships. Mike doesn't think I'll get them because there are so many people applying but I'll keep a positive attitude and you never know, right? I submitted a new werewolf piece that I've been working on called "Red". It probably won't get chosen simply because its a genre piece but that's ok. Also, I've been working on a colonial dress for Keira's Halloween costume and its turning out surprisingly good. I will post pictures on facebook when its done.

Well, its midnight here so I'll leave you with a little prose:

Viscous stars slurred the night; spiralling, arms held wide into the darkness. On clear nights you could see forever and on cloudy nights you could see into yourself. The chariot of Nyx strays across the horizon, pulling forth her cloak of night as the living world slumbers.

-Chenoa

2nd Annual Las Cruces Pagan Pride Day this Saturday!!

the 2nd annual Las Cruces area Pagan Pride Day will be in one short week! Please pass this reminder around to friends and family.

We have an amazing event planned, and with your participation, we have build a diverse and safe community. Check out our web site for schedules, details, and contact info: http:\\lascrucespag anpride.org

Just a few things you might want to know....
* Bring offerings to honor those that have passed over, including your dear animal servants.
* A food drive to benefit FYI is being conducted, so bring non-perishable food items to give back to our community. This is our "admission" into the event.
* Additionally, we have an open drum circle at 11 am, so bring your percussion instruments and join in, or just come enjoy and move with the music.
* A resources area is planned, so if you have a favorite web site, or belong to a group that would like to become a resource in the pagan community, bring information to share.
* Visit our Shrine of Healng and Remembrance, and the Guardian's altar, for some intense energy work.
* Walk the medicine wheel for some quiet time and contemplation.
...and so much more!

Opening ritual is planned for 9 am , fun and education the entire day, and closing ritual at 4 pm. Bring your food donation, and an open mind, and be ready for fun!

The Spirituality of Life

I "practice" my faith everyday. I have immersed myself in it so fully that everything I do is a reflection of the gods. Every minute of every day I reflect upon who has provided that moment and give thanks for it. When I'm in metals working on a particularly difficult project I give thanks to Hephaestus. When I garden or when I'm outside I thank Cerrunos for bit of earth. The nights that Artemis and Hecate have granted us makes me want to sing out and I thank Hera for protecting my marriage. I live in the presence of the divinity every day so I am constantly aware of the connection between the divine and the mundane.

Sometimes I just forget that the rest of the world isn't like that. Sometimes when someone is taken by surprise by some spiritual gift I want to click my tongue at them and tell "you should have known". But really, should they have? Is it so odd that a connection to the spiritual would take someone by surprise. That a sudden awareness of the relationship with the mystical would completely change their lives. Is it really all that far fetched to be a born again pagan... again?

I"m positive

I'm thinking of trying to be positive for awhile. Saying things like "I can" and "I will".  I'm going to work very hard and making sure the things that come out of my mouth are things that will help me in life. My mother is so negative and hubby is so cynical that I think I've become some kind of monster accumulation of both of them. I was told by an older woman the other day that my cells could hear what I said. So when I spoke negatively about my body they heard and reacted accordingly. I'm not sure I believe that so literally but I do thing that I can be a happier, healthier person if I just stop saying I can't and start saying I will. 

I sprained my knee on superbowl sunday and the doctor wanted me to get off the crutches and start using it just 1 week after I did it. I was afraid and, for the first couple of days, in a lot of pain. I still have to take a pain pill after a long day but I'm definitely seeing some improvement. Now imagine how quickly I would have healed if I'd jumped off those crutches and sang "I'm back world, and ready to dance!"

March of Dimes Walk

Did you know I was a premature baby? I am joining in the Walk to prevent future Premature Births for March of Dimes. Any little bit helps! http://www.marchforbabies.org/lunamama