Food Happies

I know I’m sporadic about postings these days.  Trying to do too many things and something languishes.  Which is here and the podcast.  However, something is also fermenting in the background.  That’s right, my thoughts don’t sprout and grow, they putrefy or ferment.  Muwhahahaha.

I go through quiet stages when I’m evolving.  I like to think that’s what we’re all doing, or trying to do.  Not just exist, not just live, but evolve.  Become more.  Expand to the very edges of our skins and revel in our uniqueness and in love.

Universal love, baby.  It is where it’s at.  In all its nasty, decaying, looming, laughing, sparkling, dancing glory.  Because love has never been just Valentine’s love.  It’s always been cleaning dirty diaper love, on babies and on parents because that’s love.  Or should be love, but that’s an entirely different digression I choose not to make today.

Love has always been messy and painful, uplifting and clarifying.  It’s always been the worst torture and the only reason for existence.

Evolve.

To become One with Universe.  To be the Embodiment of Love.  To just get something done freakingly awesomely well.

Because that is all it takes.  Embrace the things that make you feel grand, completed, living a real and connected life in this crazy, fucked up world.  Do what you love and do it again and again and again and watch yourself getting better at that!  Revel in that.  It’s never been about where you get to, though that’s good too, it’s always been about how you get there.  In your time.  On the path that you need to take.  That leads you in a direction that refines you into Love.

So tonight’s meal is brought to you by sliding into the Land of Capable After All, past the City of And You Thought Living Like This Was Too Much Work and settling into the County of Being Really Connected To What I Do Makes Me Feel Great and Damn It’s Tasty Too.  It is a lot of work.  You have to love the results, desire, craze, long for the results.  Otherwise you’re only bothering because someone else told you it was good for you.  And even here Fake It Till You Make it works.  And so does accidentally trying new things until you find yourself in the position you never really considered yourself either capable of or simply not one of those people who did those kind of things.  I feel a bit like I’ve arrived and it’s good.

What I did is really no big deal for most people.  I made soup from scratch, shredded chicken and sprouted rice with quinoa soup (using homemade chicken stock) and desert is lemon blackberry jam swirled cheesecake on cocoa cookie crust.  Yes, I’d made the cookies previously too.

And that’s what makes this so amazing.  I was a lousy or lazy or just non-existent cook growing up.  My tendencies combined with other cooking siblings and a family that at the time was not overly insistent about food in any extravagant way, made for one insipid avoidant cook.  Food was not inspiring to me growing up.  I had favourites but I felt no call to cook.

This means that I’d never made chicken stock before.  Hel, I roasted my first chicken less than 6 months ago.  And yes, the chicken stock was made from another chicken I roasted (because it really was pretty damn easy and sooooooooo tasty and I could buy a chicken that was free range, organic, etc).  And now I’ve made chicken and rice soup from it.  Even the rice wasn’t just rice!  It’s TruRoots sprouted rice and quinoia blend.  As to how have I never made even chicken noodle soup before?  Well, not big on soups and didn’t grow up with it all the time (sometimes we had homemade, many times we had Lipton) and well, I just didn’t see it on my list of easy capabilities or something.  I don’t know, k, it’s just weird.

This was, however, not my first cheesecake (I’m braver with baking than cooking, but not my all that much).  It was, however, the first one where my cookies became the crust.  They were really good cookies too, with extra cocoa, semi-sweet chocolate chips and white chocolate chips, that were super soft and crumbly.  So I embraced the crumbly.  And the jam?  Well, that I didn’t make, but my friends did.  Lemon Blackberry jam and don’t doubt for a second that they picked every one of those blackberries.

This was a full wholesome meal, made frame scratch.  With scratches in the scratch!  And I think it’s the scratches in the scratches that are making me feel pretty damn proud.  The realness of it all makes me feel connected and healthy.  And the gift from friends?  That just makes me feel loved.

Love to you All, too.

~The Abysmal Witch

p.s. I only cut my finger once and I’m so much faster at bandaging these days.  😀

p.p.s.  While starting to clean up from dinner I then have this absolutely happy moment and yes, I feel like I’m bragging, I’m just so damn happy about it!  And yeah, kinda proud too.

FB moment:  “That moment when you look at your wall of mead and think “shit, I’m going to have to start drinking some of this, I’m out of space and there’s almost no more storage in the closet”. And then you stop. Realize what you’ve just said to yourself. “Holy Fuck, I have a FULL WALL of MEAD!” That’s a good moment.

(To be fair, though, only 4 rows of shelves are mead, the other 3 are my magical library so it’s not as much mead as it may sound like. Oh, still a lot, just not *that* a lot. Which actually makes it harder, not many bottles left of any individual mead, so I can’t just drink them *casually*. Snort. I’m a hoarder, and in this instance I’m almost okay with it.)”

Wanna see?  Well, for now you get a Samhaine picture of it with poor lighting, an unsteady hand (it was really low light! lol)  and angle to really showcase it because the only other pic of it I have handy would be incriminating for friends of mine.  In appearance, only, mind.  😉  Someday I will have a better picture, but that!  That is NOT THIS DAY!  Happy trials!

I’m Getting Handfasted?!?

Yes, that’s right, me.  41 year old me.  Getting hitched.  Joined.  Handfasted.  Married.

Not right this second! But in the next year (two if things go not the way we plan) it looks like.

Me.  Handfasted.  Whoda thunk.  And to a man I’ve known for four years but only started dating this January.  And yes, I’m going to tell you a story.

So no shit, there we were.  Me, my love, my coven and 65 other people, enjoying a weekend of frivolity.  (A private event/adult house-type-party where we cross into faeryland and play as pirates and faeries for the weekend.)  Friday night, we’re just on site, and the coven does a kick-ass ritual where we draw down the moon (me) and then the pirate king (my partner) steals the moon/me away and up to Aphrodite’s Temple.

My partner (BJ) and I had been asked to open and bless the temple this year (the Temple’s 19th year – we’ve been partying at this site for some time, under various labels and experiences, but always there is a temple to Her).

 

It’s a crappy picture, but the only one I can find of the temple, even going back several years.  Anyway, no shit, there we were, the moon and the pirate king, in a temple of Aphrodite, celebrating and sharing with each other, when my love turns to me and says “I want you to be my wife”.

We toasted with the raspberry pomegranate mead he had insisted that we take with us to bless the temple.  We celebrated.

We came back to our cabin and celebrated with our dear friends.  We found other dear friends and shared the news.  There was much sharing and celebrating and pirating and faerying.

I’m getting married.?!

Saturn

 

(My) Eight Blisses of Yule: #4 Understanding

Yes, I know, Yule is fading quickly beneath the onslaught of the coming sun, but I still have my litany of 8 blisses to share!  So I’ll try and get them out in the next several weeks (this is me setting a realistic timeframe rather than the one I wish I could make but deep down know that I meet).

Understanding.  One of my favourite things to do at this time of year (we’re pretending it’s still Yule time as I type this) is to give the “perfect” gift.  The perfect gift isn’t in the item.

It is in how it is received.

When the other person’s eyes, face, body light up.  When they get that grin or laugh, get teary or just really solemn before they give you a great, big hug, that’s when I know I’ve given a perfect gift.

Because it was something special to them not necessarily to me.

Giving the perfect gift requires seeing the other person for who THEY are, and not getting sucked into seeing on them reflections of our own needs and wants.

It is so easy to assume fall victim to the “I like it so they’ll like it too” attitude.  There has to be more to recommend something as a gift for a particular person than just that I or you like it.

Giving the perfect gift is allowing yourself insight into the who of someone else.  At the deepest level, you let go of your own ego to let in the sense of the other person, to understand what it is that would bring them joy.

Yes, knowing the person, their likes/dislikes, whether or not they have the same sense of humour as you, their complete addiction to My Little Ponies, these are all tells.  We pay attention to the person, know what they are like, what they’ve shown preference for in the past, or not.  We apply that knowledge in picking out the gift.

Some might say that this isn’t any mystical experience, it’s just good social etiquette.

Well, and it is.  And when done out of duty, that’s all it is.  But when it’s done out of love?  Then it is a gift of love.

Understanding the other person is the gift we receive when we give a perfect gift.

Love is the gift the other person receives when they receive from us the perfect gift.

I firmly believe that we experience love through attention.  Without getting into any real specifics:  We give attention to people we love.  When someone pays attention to us, we feel loved (whether we want it or not, though it always feels nicest when it is mutual).

When we fully embrace understanding (or love) then we have reached a mystical experience.

And when they open the gift, and their face lights up, and I get to see that I was right, that I had connected with that person, understood them, given even just one person a perfect gift for that year, then I know I have understood, truly understood and joy is then mine, too.

~Abysmal Witch

 

(My) Eight Blisses of Yule: #3, Receiving

It is good to enjoy receiving gifts.

It is great to enjoy receiving gifts without any emotional baggage.  As in your own emotional baggage, not the gift’s.

To think, someone cared for you emotional state enough to get you something they thought you would enjoy.

And yes, again I am getting away from the requisite giving that is so typified in the media and our culture (and even more so in other cultures judging by recent conversations).  This isn’t the required polite receiving of some polite gift that was given because it was expected and received with a polite smile because the amount of emotion on the receiving end equalled that of the giving end.

I’m talking about having a gift in your hands that as you look upon it your heart glows.  It makes you laugh.  Or it fulfills a need.  Or it satisfies an itch you didn’t even know you had.  It speaks to you.  And it’s FOR YOU.

I’ve long believed that we experience love through attention.  When we are on the receiving end of positive attention, we feel loved (having your birthday remembered, receiving a gift you really wanted and so clearly the other person had paid attention to you, being asked about your day and the examples could continue forever).

Receiving a gift is taking in love.

Without commitment or expectation.

NO STRINGS ATTACHED.

If there was a string attached then it wasn’t a fucking gift and it doesn’t belong in this conversation.

Wow, taking in love.

As I type, I think “hey, this is why Santa is such a strong, beloved archetype!”

What is this lunatic talking about?

Think about it.  Santa is the ultimate gift giver, right?  He gives to all he loves (generally portrayed as all who are “good”), freely, without any expectation of return, no strings at all.

Which means that when you receive a gift from Santa, all you have to do, ALL you have to do is receive it.  Take it in.  Take that freely given love into your heart. You get to enjoy the gift without any guilt or need to reciprocate.  Something I think many people have a hard time doing when the gift is from someone known.  But Santa?  His gifts are safe to receive.

I received gifts this yule.  And each one was unexpected and appreciated.  And ZERO fretting over anyone who didn’t give a gift.  Because there was no need for gifts to be given.  No need = no requirement = no guilt.  Gods, I love things that come without guilt.

This receiving isn’t the greedy grasping of a selfish child.  This is the glorious receiving of the open and essentially hopeful child.

This Yule I let myself take in the gifts of my friends, from the physical to the spiritual, the joy of their company to their funny stories.

Yes, gifts range far beyond the physical, and many of them arrive when we’re not paying attention.

Time to wake up and take it in.  Let it all in.  Receive the gifts that are waiting for your hands to open to take them in.

~Abysmal Witch

(My) 8 Blisses of Yule: #2, Giving

I’m not talking about obligatory follow through.  I’m not talking about the need to reciprocate.  I’m not talking about fulfilling someone else’s expectations.

I’m talking about the sheer bliss of giving BECAUSE YOU WANT TO.

With no other lingering, hidden feeling lurking behind the giving.

There’s no expectation in it, no regret, no pressure, no feeling that you “had to”.  The one and only reason for the giving is because in your heart of hearts you want to.  What you want.  To who you want.  Without needing, without WANTING anything back.

That’s right.  My bliss lies in doing it.  Utterly and completely in the doing.

Full stop.

The only thing I hope for on the other end is to see a bit of my joy reflected in the receiver’s reaction.  That’s my payoff.

And what a fucking awesome payoff it is.

8 Blisses of Yule: #1, Resonant Kin

Last night I gathered with many beautiful people to celebrate Yule.

Throughout that night I experienced true bliss, in waves that crested and rushed over me.  Over the next days I shall share what names I found for the waves.

My first bliss of Yule is the souls of my spiritual kindred.  I stood amongst the woods, goddess in me, and my kindred stood by my side.  They danced the ritual with me.  They shared food and laughter, solemnity and grace.  These aren’t just kin.  These are the people that resonate with me.  We are not the same but together we created a harmony that, I like to think, lifted us all up higher.

When we spoke, ideas and concepts and understanding was shared, not just words and information.

I felt like I was among my own kind.  I WAS among my own kind.

Graced in bliss by my resonant kin.

~Abysmal Witch

It’s Your Life

It is, you know.  Just yours.  No one else’s.

You decide when to get up and when to sleep (don’t try that “I have to get up for work” shyte on me because working is still a choice, making it your decision ultimately to get up.)

You decide who to love.

And who to hate.  (You may be influenced by other people, but your emotions belong to you, and no one else.)

You own your life.  All of it.  Every scrappy, crappy, happy piece of it.

So sink your hands into it!  Go deep, into the wrists, the elbow, the armpits.  Sink down deep into your own life and wrap it around you like the smoothest fabric, the softest embrace, the best, most tangled, wrapped up, caught up, cuddled up enfolding of yourself into yourself.

Take hold so deep, so hard, that no one can ever separate you from yourself again.

Grab hold of your life and love it, hate it, feel it, share it, f*ck it, dream it, OWN it.

It’s yours.

Not your friends’.  Not your parents’ or your family’s.  Not your boss’s and not even your kids’, pets’ or fern’s.  It’s bloody well yours.

And absolutely no one can tell you otherwise.

Not even yourself.

You can try and toss away your life, your responsibility, your choices and decisions but in the end such actions always fail because no one owns your life but you.

Which means no one can ever take it away from you.

It’s your life.

Live strong.

~Abysmal Witch

Stoner Report – Nirvana Quartz

I touch it, and there is peace.

I hold it and the universe opens wider.

A quiet universe, full of patience, full of time.

Nirvana quartz is from the Himalayas, quartz that lay underneath a glacier for thousands of years.  It has been roughened, cut, changed by the ice.  And now the ice has receded and the results of its passage are revealed.

The feeling of it is of love and peace, but not the simple love of rose quartz.  It has been tested, changed, tempered.  Its colour is subtle and its effects as relentless as the ice that shaped it.

It has known heights and depths.  It has been buried into darkness and found its own inner light.

It has been outside of time and only recently revealed to us.  It is the gift of a higher spirit, reaching out a hand to lift us up.

I adore this stone.

Hekate’s Suppers

In honour of Her whom I serve.

It’s amazing what a question, some google time and a bit of logic can do for us.

My curiosity centered around Hekate’s Suppers, something that’s been mentioned repeatedly but casually around me (people, internet, etc.).  So I went looking for specifics and this is what I found.  Please note, this information is not properly cited and so I cannot guarantee the accuracy of any of the details, aside from those things that are simply my own experience and perception.

In case you don’t know, Hekate or Hecate is a Greek goddess of antiquity typically known as a Goddess of magic, crossroads, witches, etc.  She is also a psychopomp.

There are two points I’d like to bring to you regarding these suppers, first on the timing of them, the second on the purpose.

Most references I have found to a ‘date’ for them is on the 29th or 30th of the month.  However, this is not based upon our calendar!  Something that I think most people forget.  Using the old roman calendar (not the Julian calendar and not our modern Gregorian calendar, and boy, that was a fascinating little trip into wikipedia) led to an interesting realization.  I did not look at the ancient greek calendar given that every city-state had their own calendar and most weren’t recorded.  Besides, the early Roman calendar may well have been based upon a Greek lunar calendar.

Right, so the ancient roman calendar was largely based upon the moon cycles.  The month would start on the day of the new moon, when the crescent was first visible.  This would put the 29th or 30th of the month on the dark moon (1-2 days before the crescent would first appear).  Their calendar system is complicated but the idea that the “date” for Hekate’s suppers is actually on the dark moon seems both logical and fitting for the Dark Goddess of the Crossroads.

Second, Hekate’s suppers, classically speaking, were offerings left at crossroads.  It seems that part of the purpose of this may have been a round about way for the rich to feed the poor.  The rich people would leave offerings to Hekate at street corners that the poor would take up.  I don’t know, but it seems plausible, particularly when we remember that most offerings by the temples to the Gods would ultimately result in a feast that would feed the locals.  Often it was the only time that poor people would get meat (this is from a class I took long ago).

CORRECTION:  If you check out the comments, you will see a post from Dver explaining that while many offerings were of a nature to share with people, Hekate’s suppers do not fall in that group.  The comments also give a link to their own post which includes an explanation of where this misconception comes from.  Not that giving to the poor or the foodbank is bad, just that it doesn’t fit with offering to Hekate on the dark moon.  Now back to the original post:

Experience says that it doesn’t make sense to take a whole plate of food to a crossroads.  Instead, I would suggest two potential ways to honour Her through a supper.  One is the offering of an egg at a crossroads (though if the animals don’t get to it, the smell could be most unfortunate), the other would be an offering of food to a homeless person who was at/near a crossroads.  But as always, in the end it is your intention, will and passion that determines the purpose of what you do.  There are, of course, a multitude of ways that She can be honoured through the use of food, offerings, and crossroads.  It’s just a matter of personal choice.

Now taking this one step further, and from personal practice, Hekate’s Supper can also be an opportunity to sit down to a meal with her.  Invite her to your table, or to a setting near a crossroads, and eat your meal knowing she is there with you.  And yes, I don’t see why this couldn’t be done with any deity with a time and location suitable to their nature.

One of the wondrous things of being pagan is being able to bring the spiritual into any aspect of living.  In this case, it’s bringing deity into our meal, rather than simply leaving something for them. Truly, we are blessed.

Dark Moon Magic

Our rite this night began with the “Rite of Her Sacred Fires”, a celebration and invocation of Hekate that can be done by anyone and really at any time, though people are asked to do it across this waxing moon to share in a global group experience.

Our circle casting was simple and efficient (with that much practice, its not too surprising!) though in it I used the red drum I made with Nikiah of Red Moon Musings.  Its voice has deepened and reaches far on our behalf.

And then we worked with our Ancestors, in particular our spiritual ancestors.  While I cannot speak of the ritual and our experience, I will say that it was an honour, periodically fun, and has left me glowing with the love of a night well spent.

Let as many as can release their fears, become All, become None, become One and thus find our Selves.

~the Abysmal Witch