Old Lives

Today I visited someone I haven’t seen in years.  An old mentor, no pun intended.

I see now , my life changed, the branch in the road, and the freedom I have claimed.

In ten years she has spun into a dance with her antithesis, her nemesis in flesh.  A woman in opposition to all my old mentor holds dear.

The conflict has taken root in old losses, or so I believe, and it has flourished.  It nourishes in bitter twists of familiarity.  It is embraced for its definition of boundaries, its comfort in the emptiness.

It has become a core piece of her world, a focal point to be shared, the story of life to be told.

Is bitter comfort, not yet still comforting?  Does it matter what sees us through the night?

I believe it does.  Yet that belief is in degrees, to the best that we each can attain.  Always we can reach for more (and sometimes we need to sit on our heels and *reflect*).  We can be more, for always we are becoming.  Or we can settle into a pattern of predictability and certainty, an old pair of uncomfortable shoes that we have adjusted to as much as they adjust to us.

I am happier for the road I have taken.

Barefoot and dancing.  Sharp stones scrape my heels, my toes dug into soft earth.  Living.

Spin spin spun

Spin spin spun

World alight, flaming dark down

Drowning in the firelight

Ash sweeps by in a chill wind


Spin spin spun

Dropping spindles a plumbline

Into straight tiled lines

Quartered, I am drawn


Spin spin spun

Dervishly dizzy

Petals, twigs, scratching, petting

I am stroked into nothingness


I am spun

I am spun


I spin

An Invitation to a Great Working for the Planet

YOU are Invited

I and a few others have been challenged by our Ancestors and by our Gods to do what we can to stir up change in the world.

Our hope is that by breaking the current flow, the pattern of our cultures and societies that are destroying our food and our planet that is encouraging the worst in ourselves and towards others, by breaking this flow we hope that something better can arise.

We have started a Great Working towards change.

You are invited to join us in it.  Join by doing ritual.  Energizing, powerful ritual.  Ritual to a purpose.  Do it in your ritual space or in nature.  Do it in your own style.  Just join us in purpose.

The more of us who Act to create change, the greater the change will be.

If you are interested, all information including the first ritual outline is available at Dark Stars.

We have already begun  the Magick.  Join us if you so Will.


Question: Worth Recording the Bad?

If you’re around the internet much, you’ve probably seen the meme floating around of writing down the good things as they happen to you, putting them in a jar and then at the end of the year, pulling out the jar and reading about all the wonderful things that happened.

I think this a lovely idea and have written down a few things for this year (in case I decide to really do it, I want to be prepared, and if I decide not to keep going, well, it just cost me a few scrps of paper, some pleasantly-focussed contemplation and a few seconds of time).

It suddenly occurred to me this morning, and I will grant you that it may well be my cold-infested mind and body doing the thinking today rather than the normal almost-logical one, to wonder what would happen if I recorded the things that piss me off?  That anger me, make me snarl and growl and hate myself or someone else?

To be clear, I’m not talking about looking for every little annoying thing possible to record.  This would be for the things that I’m already not letting instantly go of.

Would I be amplifying the negative feelings?

Is that even possible if I’m already dwelling on them for periods of time?

Or would it take them outside of me?  Help me to let go more?

If I did both at once, would one jar outstrip the other?  Would I make conscious choices to focus on the positive?

What do you think?  Is this an experiment worth trying?

Gregorian Resolution 2013

A year ago, possibly today, I posted about my view on New Year’s resolutions.  I like to focus on things I want to try out, something new to embrace as the new year (Gregorianly speaking) starts.

Last year, I vowed to attend one live event per month.  Some of which even were blogged about here.  It was a varied list, including:  bellydance, plays, opera (first time ever), laser show, beluga and otter shows at the aquarium, restaurant band, friends playing with Fimo, classic plays and modern ones, parade, air show, and the list actually goes on from there.

This year, I vow to cook something new each and every month.

This should balance nicely between my holy-fuck-how-am-I-going-to-ever-survive-the-psychotic-busy-of-2013 and determination to learn something new this year for pure fun.

I’ve been edging into the land of cooking more anyway so this isn’t precisely a stretch.


Did you notice it?  I just gave away the secret to New Year’s resolution successes.  I’m embracing something I already am interested and have already started working on.  It’s a bit of a stretch to succeed, but not much of one, and it’s something I honestly want to do and already am doing.  I’m just going to do more of it, and more consistently.  A little push in my already direction.

And January is taken care of already!  But as with last year’s resolution, the month only improves if I fulfill the resolution more than once.  Or as many times as I feel like.  It just doesn’t let me be so lazy that I let my desire drift off my awareness and the intention disappear into the void of the forgotten.

Oh, and what was it?  A simple quesadilla.  No recipe, just a simple adding of ingredients to make a nummy lunch.  One that I could have easily done years before and just never got up the gumption/intention/nerve to do it (I’m a shy cook sometimes and hesitant to ‘wing’ it).

Do you have a New Year’s resolution?  Is it going to be easy?  hard?

Or do you live the land of ‘resolution is to have no resolutions’?  A land I am familiar with and frequently enjoy.  Though I’m finding I like the challenge of this newer methodology of mine.

Regardless of plans, I wish you all a 2013 filled with satisfaction of needs, exploration of dreams, and a movement towards your greater Path.

Blessings of the deep and wild to you all.

Saturn, the Abysmal Witch


The Smell of Shit

Tonight we have been inundated with the smell of shit.  I have smelled four different species of shit today.

Snake shit.

Cat shit.

Rat shit (EEWWWW)

and human shit.

You know what?

All shit smells bad.

Some shit smells worse than others.

Some have some extra spicy ingredient to make them truly horrifying.

Some have been around for a bit so the smell has dimmed but you know what?  Even old shit still smells bad, just less so.

Shit is shit.  That is the lesson of the day.

Followed quickly by the second lesson:  the sooner you clean it up, the less the smell will linger.

This pile of shit has been brought to you by:

The Abysmal Witch.

May your shits be easy, regular and smell no worse than any other shit.


Next Life Crisis

You heard the term here first!  LOL

Screw the mid-life crisis and the quarter-life crisis, let’s just call them our next life crises.

What do I mean?  Well, it’s just what it sounds like, I’m trying to decide what to be next.  We go through many transitions in our lifetime, the obvious ones of entering the workforce, the quarter & mid-life crises of whether we’re doing the best thing for us, retirement.  Let’s not forget puberty, major relationships, etc.

I think we have more of them than we used to, or than our parents had.  It was one mid-life crisis.  Now it’s a regular change-over event, a re-inventing of self from one set of circumstances to the next.

I evolve spiritually, the rest of my world attempts to evolve.  Because the more I change on the inside, the bigger the discrepancy between who I truly am and what I do.  And the greater that divide, the more intense my cognitive dissonance.

Hehehe, fun to use that phrase.  Perhaps it’s spiritual dissonance.  Or just personal dissonance.

So I’ve been trying to figure out what career to move myself over to, in order to reduce this dissonance.  And then figure out how would I do it?  How do I switch practical paths?  The mundane world isn’t as easy to shift zones in as the spiritual one.  I can’t just make a decision and do/study/practice something else.  There’s this thing called a job, and it pays me (rather well, actually), and that puts a roof over my head, pays for food, clothes, pets.  Things that can’t just be tossed aside because I feel like doing something different.

So I’m working on it.  Planning and figuring out where I’m going to go and how I’m going to get there.

My Next Life crisis.

You know the best part of the phrase?  It’s completely open-ended on how many times you can go through one in a single lifetime.  Yippee?  lol.

Happy changing!


Accept the Spoons and Move On

Tonight I was forced to question my grasp on reality.

My sanity was suddenly all it was cracked up to be.

I was putting away the dishes and found a wooden spoon in the cutlery section.

This doesn’t seem particularly odd.


I only own two wooden spoons.  And what I held in my hands wasn’t one of them.

“Love,” calls I.  “Did you use a wooden spoon?”

“Yes,” says my love.

“Where did you get the spoon?” asks I.

“From the cutlery drawer,” he says, “right beside the other ones.”


I looked in the drawer.

Yes, two more spoons squatted insight.

Understand that I exaggerate not at all when I say that I had never seen them before in my life.

“Love, did you buy new spoons?”

Hope fizzled predictably with his “Nah, those have been there since I moved in.”

No fucking way.

There was a disagreement for the next several minutes.

My two indefutable  points:

  1. why were we in Ikea looking for more wooden spoons if there were 4 already in the drawer (and not just the one we actually had)?
  2. we’d cleaned out the drawer together a couple of months ago and there were no such spoons in it then.

So we came to the agreement that the spoons had appeared somewhere along the way and that neither of us knew where from.

Meanwhile, I’d contacted potential suspects–friends, who could have somehow left wooden spoons in the drawer.  No go.  Thankfully they understand this whole process and don’t consider this my final push over the edge.

But, no, they weren’t the source of the spoons.

There is no known source for them.

It haunted me.

And then my covenmate reminded me that weirdness is just part of our lives.

The lesson of the day became clear:  sometimes you just need to accept the spoons and move on.

Scalding Hot Chocolate and other pointless ramblings

I have a probably unhealthy adoration of boiling hot hot chocolate.  Boil the water, pour over Carnation hot chocolate, stir and DRINK.  Waiting is for pussies.

Maybe it’s because of my constant coldness.  Maybe it’s a love of intense sensations.  Maybe I’m a masochist on many levels.

I don’t know for sure, but I do know that I can’t get enough of it when it’s in that blindingly hot stage.


And yes, that’s right.  I have absolutely nothing inspirational to say and while some would suggest that such a situation calls for silence, today I choose to blather in my pointlessness AND share it with you, rather than sit quietly, twiddling my thumbs, and contemplating the misty rain that is encouraging me to stay indoors.

I’m sitting here, thinking about what I want to do with my life and how most ‘fun’ options involved less income.

But then, I don’t want to give up my current lifestyle.  After all, what if I couldn’t afford hot chocolate anymore?  My vocal chords might be saved, but my soul would be lost without access to the glorious agony of too-hot-liquid coursing down my throat into my belly.

And isn’t belly a great word?  Our bellies are wonderful things.  They hold food and scalding hot beverages.  They carry babies (think the broad arena of our belly area, not the specific organs involved lol) for some people.  Others of us just look like we’re carrying babies (recently took a trip with great friends and I came back with a “vacation baby” because the food was just that good).  Our bellies can move and dance.  They remind us with gurgles and grumps to look after ourselves by eating.  They hold our nervousness for us.  They know true satisfaction.

Bellies are good.

Bellies like to be stroked.  Well, so does the rest of our bodies, but let us not get sidetracked from the wonder of the belly.  Even the word has such a full and lovely ring to it.  It leads our mouth right into a smile, how beautiful is that?

Sometimes my emotions take over my belly and it transforms from a happy little elf or other such creature into a demonizing monster intent on culinary destruction of a grand sort.  I really shouldn’t blame my belly for that, though.  It isn’t my belly’s fault that my emotional issues like to smother themselves under a pile of food.  Wafer thin mint?

But today is not about the negative places the belly gets dragged to (and I mean dragged because it’s not like it’s a simple happy sensation being overfull from emotionally driven eating), it’s about the glory of the belly.  Particularly when filled with scalding hot chocolate.

Hail the BELLY!


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.?!