Craft your Light

Some carry a light to show the Way,
For others to follow behind,
Some carry a Light to light their own Path,
without regard to others’ Mind.

For everyone’s journey is not the same,
although we may want it to be,
So keep on talking and carrying your Light,
It will set a lot of Souls free.

Fear not of that which you need to say,
it’s probably part of your mission,
Fear not of being viewed as different,
or being the brunt of derision.

For who you are is of need to all,
especially to those like me,
For what’s in your Heart is your greatest gift,
Let it out for all to see.
–Author Unknown

A person’s path is never stick straight and without pot holes. It bends around hills, swerves around detours, and gets stuck in construction. Sometimes there are little MPH signs to tell you to slow down and actually take a LOOK at where you are traveling, other times it lets you figure it out on your own. I’ve been following such a path, though I have to admit on more than one occasion, it feels like I’ve been taking the scenic route. Or better yet, I’ve been stuck idling in perpetual YIELD.

While experiencing that metaphorical YIELD, my dear friend Jaymi who is adept at tarot, gave me a career card reading. In the end, what I had to do to prepare was to embrace The Hermit. The Hermit is the wise old person who guides and seeks. Who follows the light Divine set forth, but also holds the lantern the light emanates from. I am always seeking, but the time has come for me to embrace the mastery of my craft I know I am capable of attaining. But to do that, I must take hold of my inner strength and heart and step outside my comfort zone.

So. Here I am.

Why Lying Broken in a Pile on Your Bedroom Floor is a Good Idea. ~ Julie (JC) Peters | elephant journal

Moving Beyond Suffering And Fear.

via Why Lying Broken in a Pile on Your Bedroom Floor is a Good Idea. ~ Julie (JC) Peters | elephant journal.

A Wish for 2012. Thank you, Neil Gaiman

“A decade ago, I wrote:

May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you’re wonderful, and don’t forget to make some art — write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.

And almost half a decade ago I said,

…I hope you will have a wonderful year, that you’ll dream dangerously and outrageously, that you’ll make something that didn’t exist before you made it, that you will be loved and that you will be liked, and that you will have people to love and to like in return. And, most importantly (because I think there should be more kindness and more wisdom in the world right now), that you will, when you need to be, be wise, and that you will always be kind.

And for this year, my wish for each of us is small and very simple.

And it’s this.

I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes.

Because if you are making mistakes, then you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You’re doing things you’ve never done before, and more importantly, you’re Doing Something.

So that’s my wish for you, and all of us, and my wish for myself. Make New Mistakes. Make glorious, amazing mistakes. Make mistakes nobody’s ever made before. Don’t freeze, don’t stop, don’t worry that it isn’t good enough, or it isn’t perfect, whatever it is: art, or love, or work or family or life.

Whatever it is you’re scared of doing, Do it.

Make your mistakes, next year and forever.”

Link to Mr. Gaiman’s original post: http://journal.neilgaiman.com/2011/12/my-new-year-wish.html

2011: Rug Pulling Extravaganza

If 2011 were a room, it would have eight walls, a wooden floor, and a massive round rug in the center so thread-worn and misshapen one would suspect a roll of trolls had their way with it.

One wall is January; very clean and pristine but with a slight crack in the plaster. Ambitions were there, fresh optimism at the ready, and my two feet got yanked. What started as a sturdy beginning soon showed me that changes were a’comin’. Some I had a say in, many I didn’t.

Another wall is February; a kaleidoscope of pagan possibilities as I attended my first Pantheacon. I glimpsed into a different aspect of the community I’ve been a part of for about 16 years and realized, hey, I think I have something I could contribute! Writing mojo was reignited and ideas for how to progress on my path were created.

April’s wall steps right out of an 1980′s arcade with it’s dark paint and neon Tron accents. My birthday month showed me once again how lucky I am to have the friends I have. Plus, I enjoy how they accept me for Me, especially when I relish my inner kid by dressing up steampunk and playing Tempest. With beer.

September’s wall is full of rapidly placed punch holes and grab holds where I expressed my frustration, anger, disappointment, and yet again got my feet yanked out from under me. I did my best to regain my footing. When roommate started drinking again, my intent to manifest grew exponentially. I found my new apartment in under a week and a half.

This next wall is an interesting specimen; part shiny gold and part deepest, voidy black. October was definitely a month of “Here’s something positive for you that you needed to do for yourself, but oh hey, mind your head because I’m yanking that rug…..” SMACK!

November’s wall is a wall of fog. There and yet, nothing there. Merely exists. Floating.

Finally, the last wall is covered in evergreen; very intense, very devoted, and extremely patient as it heals my bumps, bruises, and breaks. December has been calm and joyous and uplifting.

I said eight walls, didn’t I? Well, the eighth wall is the one keeping all the others from tumbling down. It is there for support and structural integrity. Let’s call this wall “Steve”**. Without this wall, which was constructed by my friends/community/family/co-workers, I believe I would’ve stayed down for the count after the first rug pull.

2011 was a year that shook me out of my complacency. I re-learned my sense of mortality, along with a new appreciation for my health. I’m 41 years old with no major diseases, health issues, injuries, or maladies. I am thankful I can still move and get around on my own. My body is a fucking awesome machine and I learned how to utilize it and keep its cogs cogging.

I was reminded that life is too short and too rare to put up with crap that keeps you down.

I also learned that no matter how much we hope and dream and wish it to be true otherwise, loved ones won’t accept help they don’t want. Remember their life is exactly that — their life. You can only do what you can do.

2011 wasn’t a complete ass, it also awarded me with recognition at my office (promotion and TWO raises), wonderful parties, festivals, two lovely autumn evenings, and knitting retreats.

2011 also showed me, three times actually, that no matter how harrowing of a situation I am experiencing….I am never alone. From my brush with skin cancer, to my move out of a toxic environment, to the loss of a dearly loved friend, the PTB showered me with friends who, in my humble opinion, fucking kick ass. I consider myself a damn resilient woman, but I would be a fool to say I could have handled all of this on my own. I couldn’t. I didn’t. My friends wouldn’t let me.

2012 will be here shortly. The wounds are finally healing. The light is peeking eagerly around the corner, ready to pounce on me when I’m ready. My eyes are starting to smile again and my ears are rejoicing at the sound of my laughter.

The rug has been put back and it ties the 2011 room together nicely.

**For those of you at home with your decoder rings, that’s the secret word for “L O V E “.

After Death…

The past few days continue to be surreal. It’s Friday already? I go through moments of productivity, where I actually feel normal, then something triggers the memory and I get flooded with the cold reality my dear friend will never call or text or email or visit me again.

It’s not fair. A part of my life left without my permission………

What is a Priestess?

This question has been occupying my thoughts as of late. I’m not exactly sure why. Perhaps it is because my most connected time of year, the Autumnal Equinox, is right around the corner. Or it could be my guilty conscience reminding me of how my greatest intention to be more introspective, more communal with the Divine have fallen embarrassingly short this year. Or maybe, just maybe, after all this time I’m still trying to figure out what kind of Priestess I want to be.

I am a Priestess. A legal, card-carrying priestess who rightfully earned her 4th degree in the Wiccan tradition she was taught in. Back then I was so focused, so intent on becoming a legitimate Priestess, it was all I could think and work towards for three years. When I received my degree, when I received my Certificate of Ordination, and when I hand-fasted a fellow priestess to her love, I cried. I was so undilutedly happy. I had found my calling.

But what kind of calling? Hence my question, what is a Priestess?

Happy Double Anniversary to Me

Praise be to Helios, Lord Sun, Keeper of Light.
He who has been by my side, guiding me, comforting me
While my two goddesses kick my ass and drop anvils upon my stubborn head.

Hairs of curl, arms of warmth, smile of fatherly pride
I honor you Helios on this your Day of Days.
May your sunlight grant this priestess clarity and courage as she continues to walk her path.

Litha (aka Summer Solstice) is a very important sabbat to me. Granted it’s not my favourite, but it is very special for its significance. When I looked at my calendar last night I was trying to remember if I had the years correct. Did I start on this path in 1994 or 1996? Did I receive the gods and goddesses blessing of my priestesshood six or seven years ago? To my surprise, one anniversary was longer than the other.

Today marks my official 15th Anniversary of being on the Pagan Path. In 1996 on the Summer Solstice, I performed my first ritual. Taking a few elements from a Wicca 101 book and then intuitively adding my own, I created my first and quite successful working. Results happened in seven days.

This sabbat also marks my 8th Anniversary of being a teaching, guiding, ceremony performing Priestess. Some of my friends like to place a “High” in front of that title, but I feel I have not attained such a promotion yet, as flattered as I am about the gesture. After time struggling to find my niche, my calling……it turns out it has been staring me in the face since I was a teenager. While others have found their paths as Witches, Shamans, Magicians, Pagan Writers, Scholars, Guides — I am a Devotee to the Divine. I am a Priestess.

When I was in high school, I wanted to be a minister or clergy person so I could honor the Divine. But I was a girl and the thought of being a nun made me shudder. In my 20′s it was the New Age Movement but it was too fluffy, no structure. Finally in my mid-20′s Wicca discovered me, grabbed me by the hand, and showed me what came naturally. And it welcomed, heck, revered female clergy.

I am not exactly sure what will manifest from my newfound acceptance of who I am. I am a reluctant Priestess after all. But something tells me it will involve writing and possibly erecting / attending a temple for those in the area. Perhaps even a book and a few guiding lectures. Who knows. As with anything, start small and simple and build it up from there.

Happy Double Anniversary to me.

You don’t like it, then get off my front porch

My first troll. I’m touched. Truly. Now I feel like a legit blogger.

Sweet.

Thick skin initiated!

Pantheacon Recap 2011 — Part Deux

SATURDAY CONTINUED….

Second Stop: Brigid Inspiration & Healing Ritual

The 11AM time slot was a toughie. I had the choice of attending the Brigid ritual being conducted by Selena Fox OR the Battle Goddess workshop by T.Thorn Coyle and Robert Russell. Considering what I had recently undergone at the beginning of the year, I made the wise choice of Brigid. She is what I needed most at that time.

Fortunately for me, I didn’t have to travel far for my second ritual as it was in the same room as the Haitian Vodou ceremony. I also say “fortunate” because over 300 people attended this workshop. We were packed chair to chair, shoulder to shoulder. I had heard of Selena Fox, but unlike the majority of the people there, I was too unfamiliar with her to be a fan. That changed after the ritual.

PantheaCon Recap 2011 — Part One

My, oh my, I’ve been a procrastinating little mystic. Roughly three to four months behind my writing schedule. I simply loathe backdating because it’s misleading and presents the writer in a faux light of “look how super duper organized I am!” If one backdates by a few days or a week, that’s understandable. But I will not place this post back in February to give the illusion I originally wrote it in February. Or backdate to “hide” it. That would be a lie.

I’m late on writing this entry. That’s a fact I own.

PantheaCon was a remarkable experience for me in so many colourful shades. To be honest, I do not recall exactly how it came to be I decided to attend my first PantheaCon. I believe it might have been as simple as being asked to go with some of my good friends back in February 2010, just after they returned from the con. Innowen, The Blue Muse, mentioned how amazing it was and that she would be returning. She also said she would present a tarot class idea to the organizers and see if she could get approved to lead a workshop at PantheaCon 2011. Then I was asked if I wanted to go.

Happy Re-Birth Day, Sweet Bear

April 3rd is my birthday. Whereas I can write about how I spent my day, nay, my whole weekend celebrating another year on this blue speck, that will have to be saved for another entry.

April 3, 2011 my friend Paul Bingham died and returned to the Summerlands, where I know he is giving every single god one of his infamous bear hugs in welcome.

I was in shock when I heard. It was just a few weeks ago word traveled he was ill; stage 4 pancreatic cancer. Apparently he had it for years and showed no symptoms until the beginning of March. The community is in a whirl.

Paul and I were not close, but he touched my life regardless. The first time I met him was at my very first festival, SummerStar. I was camping with my Circle and we were pretty exclusive, almost too exclusive, so we decided to branch out and meet others in the local PNW pagan community. This was our attempt to see who and what was out there.

I decided to go for a stroll and happened upon this lumberjack of a man with a Santa disposition. Never you mind he was of broad shoulders and towering over 6’4″, but the smile behind his beard and the twinkle in his eyes immediately disarmed you. My awkwardness was blindly apparent to Paul, so he gently introduced himself, welcomed me to SummerStar and then proceeded to introduce me to others. He carefully and respectfully guided this eyass on her first outing outside the nest.

My second festival was Fall EQ and whereas I felt a bit braver meeting new people, his face was the first recognizable one I saw and he was always happy to see me. He’d ask how I was getting along, if I needed help, was I having fun, and, hey, did I meet so-and-so yet because they’re really cool / knowledgeable / good people.

Paul was my Pagan Community Ambassador and I will always be grateful that he was my first impression of just how awesome the community could be.

Over a year ago, Hedwig and I were strolling through Portland trying to make our way to the Button Emporium before it closed. She was on a mission to find just the right selection of buttons for a new knitted bag she was going to felt. As we headed up the street, my eyes fell upon a very large, very tall bear gently making his way towards us. I did not have to see his face for I knew instantly it was Paul. I glommed onto him with a happy bear hug (throwing Hedwig for a loop as she thought I was hugging a stranger) and we caught each other up. I was unemployed. Had been for what felt like eons. Paul suggested I attend Ignite Portland and he promised he would help me make networking connections. Later that week I did and Paul was a man of his word as he shuffled me from one person to another as I handed out my calling card.

None of the networking panned out, but I was impressed and ever thankful to Paul for trying to help. Plus, I was gobsmacked by how many people he knew. Which just makes his untimely passing that much more shocking. Not only was he connected to the Pagan Community but to so many others as well. We weren’t the only ones who lost the love of a Great Bear yesterday, the whole of the city did.

Sweet Bear, who nurtured and guided, last night I lit a candle for you on my window sill. Happy Re-Birth Day, Paul. Blow out the candle and make a wish. And may that wish give you the new life you want to try on next.

I love and miss you.
Ember

Photo that was posted on his memorial Facebook page.

The Hermit from the Gaian Tarot. Paul sat in on that drawing session. He will forever be guiding us wandering seekers.

Paul’s Re-Birth Day candle. I thought it only fair I return the favor and leave a lantern for him to be guided by. This morning, he finally blew it out and made that wish.