Buried Nuts

While opening my bedroom window, I was treated to a show by our resident Squirrel. He was brown/gray with a blue silver tail and a VERY big boy. No other squirrels dare mess with him.

Because I was out of his view, I had the luxury of watching him dart, twitch, and search around a nearby bush for a nut. Little paws dug here and poked there. Finally, success. Squirrel darted to the base of a pine tree and cleaned all the dirt off the nut in a rather OCD fashion. It was really cute. Then without further ado, he popped it into his mouth and carried it up the tree which then met with the local Squirrel Freeway System (aka neighbor’s fence) and he bounced off. Not darted, not skittered, he actually boingy’d along the fence line.

Quite entertaining.

On a completely different, though perhaps similar note, I was lucky enough to capture this shot of a local Red-Tailed Hawk. He’s been hanging out by a environmentally protected marsh area near the local library. I had the fortune of having my camera on me, so I pulled over, took a few pix and this was my favorite.

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Note to Self — Self, when you have the funds to get a new camera, make sure the zoom capabilities knock your socks off.

And a one, and a two

Attended the 11th Annual Winter Pow Wow over at PCC this past weekend. This was my fifth year going and I always love to spend practically the entire afternoon there. The experience always leaves me feeling peaceful and rejuvenated all at the same time….co-existing amicably within my heart, mind, and soul.

When one attends Pow Wows over a period of time, one begins to recognize the regulars. Not the spectators, but the dancers. Faces have become familiar to me, as do the elaborate regalia the dancers wear. From the Double Bustle Dancers, to the Fancy Dancers, to the Shawl Dancers, to the Grass Dancers. It’s beginning to breed a sense of familiarity in me, not in the “Oh, I’ve acquired knowledge of how they do pow wows” variety, but of the “Oh, I remember him or her from last time. I wonder how their grandfather is fairing as at the last pow wow they need prayers for him?”

The drums shook up my soul from its complacent slumber and my feet would not stop thumping to the rhythm of the heart. I shopped with the vendors (acquired a very simple but cool Dance Stick) and relished in the Natives’ community. It felt like home. Oh, and I devilishly indulged in some AWESOME fry bread, one of my culinary weaknesses. A little butter, a little honey, and you are on a first class ticket to heaven. Seriously.

I believe my favorite moment occurred when an Elder, who was a Vet of the Korean War, was honored with the Flying Cross and his high school diploma. I actually got teary eyed as he merely nodded at the medal in a I-Was-Only-Doing-My-Job matter of fact, yet embraced warmly the diploma presented to him by the school principal. Second place goes to the Native toddler, donned in traditional dress, going out into the center of the dance circle and enthusiastically performing the Chicken Dance. The drummers even played a special honor song for that little guy. Priceless.

Lacey Prayer Shawl

Last week was our Knitting Guild’s first meeting of the new year. As is per their custom, it was time to show off projects which encompassed the theme of 2009: Lace. They had two categories for entry — Novice and Experienced.

“Do they mean our knitting skills in general or are they referring to lace experience?,” I whispered to Suz.

“Lace experience,” she answered.

We both submitted our entries into the Novice category and to my surprise, out of the 80-90 members of the guild, only 30 women participated. I assumed there would be more as Lace was quite the popular technique to learn last year.

Once all the entries were on display it was time for the vote. Neither Suz or I won, but we weren’t expecting to as there were some amazingly GORGEOUS lace creations. Some were very intricate, others used bold displays of colour, and the Novice piece which won was a blanket with pineapples on it. The Experienced winner was a luscious brown lace shawl with beadwork. Stunning.

Finally, they also offered a drawing to those who participated. They wanted folks to feel they had a chance to win something. Three drawings, three prizes. Guess who won the third and final prize? Yup! I was beyond stunned as I approached the front of the room to unwrap the last gift. Out of the tissue paper I pulled out a skein of scrumptious sea green mohair yarn and a scarf lace pattern called “Fallen Feathers”. How perfect! *laughs*

My prayer shawl in full length is roughly 5′ – 5′.5″ feet long.

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Close up of the intricacy.

Even closer, and crappier, shot of the draping effect of the shawl.

All that is left to do is attach tassels and it will be ready for a ritual or festival.

Hi! I’m a lazyass and you are?

So much for being able to do NaBloPoMo for January. Le sigh. I tried, I really did. But rather than look upon this as a failure, I’d rather look at this as quite the accomplishment.

No, really.

In the past, out of 30 days, I would probably only post about ten times. Maybe less, maybe a little bit more. Yet with NaBloPoMo, I actually posted about 25 out of the 31 days. That’s freaking fabulous for me! Me, who attempted the Embodiment Project** twice and failed. Me, who even though has not been posting lately is STILL doing her daily photo.

On the agenda today, rather than frantically write up posts to back date to give the illusion I’ve written every day, I’m going to spam my own blog. Just post roughly three or four entries all marked today. I don’t have to prove to anyone but myself that I am capable of achieving my goals. And on many levels I already have.

**The Embodiment Project is a Livejournal community where starting on January 1st, one hand writes in their journal every single day for the entire year. Many folks sketch, paint, do collage, doodle, or merely write and they post photos of their artistic entries. My first year I bit off more than I could chew (shocker) and tried to pursue it via an altered book. I lasted about two months. The next year I kept it simple with just writing and I also lasted again roughly two months. Doing something on a daily basis, other than getting out of bed, is simply not my thing. I learned it the hard way.

Happy Birthday Jameson

Two years ago today as I was reeling from the loss of my furrkid, Embers Grand Dame, I found myself at the Humane Society searching for a new purry companion. Three hours and seven cats later, I was empty handed and heavy hearted as I made my way to the door. Suddenly, in a playroom, I spotted a scotch coloured cat sitting rather Buddha-like, squinting, and mouthing a meow. I could not hear him due to the room’s windows, but seeing made me think, “Aw, what the heck. I’ll break my rule and look at a young, boy cat.”

The volunteer tossed us into a room together and I waited, seated upon the floor with my back against the bench. After one pass around the room to make sure nothing dangerous was within, Rufus (for that was his name back then), hopped up onto the bench and squinted at me. “So there, buddy. Would you like to come home with me?” His response? A loving squint and he touched his nose to mine. I cried.

From that day forth we have been best buds ever since. I love him, I adore him. He makes me laugh and he has kept me sane. Jameson, thank you for picking me. Happy Anniversary and Happy 3rd Birthday buddy!

The Henna Experiment

Roughly a month ago, I had discovered the hair colour I used for the past few years had been discontinued. L’OREAL Feria’s Bright Red Copper gave me the intensity and radio-activeness I had desired for years. When it was taken off the shelves because it simply didn’t sell as well as their more “mundane” Power Reds, I went on a search for the perfect replacement.

I Googled, I searched, I inquired, and I sought. Like the Holy Grail of hair colours, I was bound and determined to find it again. Most folks may not understand what the big deal is, but for those of you who colour your fine tresses — you get it. Your hairstyle is a definite marker of who you are. It is the first thing people notice (in my opinion) and it’s a representation of the spirit you possess. There’s a reason why so many former blonds, who went brunette, go back to blond — it suits them. Any other colour feels like one is wearing a business suit two sizes too small.

After a few days into my mission, I found a possibility – HENNA. Henna? I tried Henna over a decade ago and it barely made a reddish dent into my stubborn cowlick hair. The site I visited was Mehandi.com. What caught my eye was not only the intensity of the red produced by their henna, which is a translucent dye, but that it was body henna. Apparently henna marketed for hair is not really 100% henna afterall. Huh.

The next two weeks I read through their forum, jotted down notes, and decided to order a few samples. I concocted mixtures of three different kinds of henna to see which had the dye I desired. Results? Punjabi Prime won by a landslide.

Last week I ordered my 500gms of Punjabi Prime and a dozen plastic gloves. I did some samples on my hair: one batch with water/lemon juice/henna, the other apple juice/henna. Henna is an amazing thing. When one first rinses it out of their hair, all they see is ZOMG BRIGHT ORANGE. Fine for me, I’m used to vibrant colour. Yet over the next one to three days, as it oxidizes, it darkens and reddens. Plus, and THIS part I love, it does not fade. The intensity stays so much so, that every six weeks rather than having to redo my whole head to recapture the brilliantness of it, I merely have to do the roots.

Back to the hair samples — turned out the one in lemon juice gave the henna a more orangey, brassy colour. However, the apple juice sample still gave the coppery colour, but it was more rich and intense.

Last night I took the plunge and mixed my 500gms of Punjabi Prime Henna with 6 -8 cups of apple juice into a bowl. I let it sit overnight, roughly 12 hours so the dye could release, and at 10am this morning, I started applying the paste. It was smooth and creamy like whipped mashed potatoes. And after all the hub bub I read about the smell? I didn’t mind it actually. The coolness of the henna against my scalp felt wonderful, like a mud mask. It took me roughly an hour to apply the paste to every inch of hair I could find and then some of the spots I missed. Next I wrapped my locks up into some suran wrap where I looked like an anime alien character and I let it sit for about 5 hours. I’m sure 2 hours would have sufficed, but as this was my first attempt at Henna, I didn’t want to take any chances of it not being long enough and having to re-do.

Next came the part I dreaded. In the Henna For Hair forums, many women warned of how dry henna makes your hair (or more specfically, the acidic compound you use to release the dye: lemon juice, oj, apple juice, etc.) and one would have to use A LOT of conditioner to get it relatively normal. That and getting the henna out took forever. Well, I followed one poster’s advice and let my head soak in the tub for 10 minutes. It was lovely actually, laying there in the warm water as the scent of henna eased my muscles. I started to swish my head back and forth like a washing machine, and I could feel my once plastered hair give way and float in the water. The henna was all out. No clumps. No major mess. No picking any remnants out of my hair. It merely started dissolving and turned the bath water a deep reddish brown.

I flipped on the shower and applied two large helpings of conditioner. Let it sit for two minutes and rinsed. Done. No trauma, no straw-like hair, no extra conditioning.

When I stepped out the tub, the first thing I saw in the mirror was the bright orange roots. “Yes!! I’m back!!” Combing it was a breeze and my hair feels the healthiest it has in years.

Yeah. This henna is damn good stuff.

BEFORE

AFTER

BEFORE

AFTER

BEFORE

AFTER

How do you pimp your altar?

One of my favorite LJ communities to watch (and occasionally participate in) is pimp_my_altar. They showcase stunning, creative, and endlessly inspiring altars, shrines, and magickal work spaces. You name the religion, they have it. I’ve seen serene Catholic shrines, vibrant Hindu shrines, simple college altars to the elements, elaborate Samhain altars, expansive Voudoun / Hoodoun work spaces, elegant Etruscan altars, and so much more.

They have been as small as a bedside table, to one altar taking up the entire width of a living room with numerous shelves and fireplace mantles to boot!

So with that in mind, I thought I would share with y’all my current working altar. Because I just feel like it and on some level I hope it inspires you to create a little altar in your home. It doesn’t have to be magickal “perse” or even religious. I know of folks who have a small shrine set up for a departed pet, or a simple stone next to a pen for a writing altar, or candles and flowers near the bird bath outside to honor the coming of spring. Whatever works for you because that is the essential factor: what works for YOU. Not the neighbor down the street, not your MOM, not even your spouse / partner in crime.

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What I love about altars is they can be so eclectic and so original. No two are alike. Altars and shrines help connect us to energies we wish to have in our lives. Think of them as conduits. The more energy, thought, and intent you put into them, the greater the benefits.

For me personally, I have several altars all through out my home. I have two traveling altars (one for writing, one for magick) made out of Altoid tins which I wrote about last month. I have a small shrine to my Embers Grand Dame. I have an outdoor shrine that is simply a fae statue and a bird feeder to honor the creatures of Air. I have a goddess shrine set up in my closet due to lack of space, but She doesn’t mind.

My working altar is comprised of an old wooden china hutch an ex of my best friend gave me. Of course, when they split the bastard demanded it back (I use the term “bastard” politely because this guy was a true piece of work and deserves a much harsher moniker), I advised him it had become part of my altar and was infused with four years worth of magick. He changed his mind. Smart man. Atop is some black shelving innowen handed down to me and it fits perfectly with my hutch.

Along the top is my Universal Life Church Clergy Certificate, yes I am a legally ordained minister. A certificate I waited to get until I completed my 3rd degree of tradition studies and was earned the title Priestess. I figured it would have more weight for me personally if I waited. There are also candles (real and LED), a wooden Spirit egg I got on Ostara, Dark Mother statue and picture, images dedicated to my totem, objects I’ve found in nature, a firebird figurine / card, and an incense bowl.

Within the hutch is all my magickal supplies right there for my convenience. Last year I did some spring cleaning and, WOW, I had no idea I had accumulated so many items. I placed the ones I use on rare occasion (but still need) in storage, and the rest I donated to the pagan community.

On the second shelf is where I house my current tarot deck, ritual jewelry, and shamanic items. The lower shelf is where I house my BOS, lighter, and incense bowl when not in use.

To the left are tokens I have received at all the festivals I’ve ever attended. And to the right are my drums, a brass cauldron full of incense, walking staff, and a chest full of powdered incenses and herbs.

My altar has grown and shifted along with me over the past 14 years as I’ve walked (stumbled) on this path. Once it was only a little coffee table. Then it was a three level shrine in my living room as I used an old gardening work station to create it. Now I’ve pared it down to the bare essentials and so far I’m really liking it. I know some who have even smaller ones and those who have GINORMOUS ones. Yet I love checking them out all the same (with permission of course).

So tell me. How do you pimp your altar?

I Left It Around Here Somewhere…..

The rain started to soak through my rain “resistant” hoodie by the time I made it to the front door. Huffing underneath the cold clouds, I took pride I was able to accomplish another 2.7 miles in my morning ritual. Alright, every OTHER morning ritual. As I breathed in the wind, I felt exhilarated that I could accomplish just about anything I set my mind to today.

Inside the cozy blanket of my house, I brewed a cup of caffeinated ambrosia and began shifting through the emails. I received notice that yet another person had removed me from their Friends List. Earlier this week it was on Dreamwidth and that person was more of the dark, artistic vibe. I was cool with that, but apparently she wasn’t cool with my day to day sundries.

Today’s came from LiveJournal and whereas I was initially bummed, in the long run no harm, no foul. She was well within her rights to take me off her list because, let’s face it, she was very into writing about her shamanistic experiences. Me not so much. Our interests diverged and whereas I read her entries, I never commented. I did leave her a comment wishing her well and that I completely understood.

Then I started thinking about my blog and the entires it contains within its virtual pages. Lately, I have NOT been writing about my spirituality or shamanism because I’ve felt there’s really been nothing to write about. I feel like I’m in limbo. Not dead, mind you, I still have some amazing dreams. Why just recently I’ve experienced some with me climbing up hills, soaring / flying down hills, opening doors / portals to other realms others in my dreams are unable to to, etc. It definitely has been interesting, so why have I not been sharing?

Somehow, somewhere, I have misplaced my Voice. I want to share, but I’m conflicted as to how. In my mind, I want to manifest my blog into something truly magickal and inspiring. But unlike other blogs which have a running theme (crafty, shamanic, opinion, political, etc), I realized mine lacks one. My interests are all over place and I have several fingers in different pots. I possess no masterful expertise in simply ONE thing; just intermediate know-how in dozens.

Jill of All Trades here. Pleased to meet you.

Do I wish to write my blog with “Slice of Life” pieces or opinionated rants? Quirky humour or deep intellectual thinky thoughts? My day to day shamanic stumbles or my inner revelations which I’ve finally grasped? Some blogs are scholarly, others are artsy, many are hilarious, and a few are quite the hidden treasure chests only if you know where to dig.

I spoke of this limbo to a dear friend of mine and she confessed to be inflicted with the same dilemma. Where is our Voice? I laughed and being the smartass I am said, “Great. We are both experiencing metaphysical / creative laryngitis. Do they have a lozenge for that?”

We laughed.

“Do they make an app for that?,” I asked, “Perhaps turn an iPhone into a dowsing rod so we could find our misplaced Voice? Like looking for one’s car keys?” We laughed some more and, honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if some genius out there does program such a nifty tool.

In closing, I suppose all I can say is bear with me. Some days will be dreadfully dull to read my blog, yet others will surprise you as I continue to search for my individual Voice. Perhaps I left it in the icebox?

January 13, 2008

From an old journal entry two years ago.

A few minutes before 12:00PM on Sunday, January 13th, 2008, my beloved furry companion Embers passed on into the Summerlands.

Last night her condition took a turn for the worst as she had become very quiet and very still and even winced a bit at some pain. But as she was one who never played by the rules, she lived through the evening, to be greeted with a perfectly sunny day (SUNday).

Since Friday evening she had stopped eating and drinking all together. And I believe her kidneys were starting to deteriorate. Plus, in one week she dropped more weight and weighed in at 4 lbs.

I had promised her and myself, that when she began to shut down, I would take care of her and end her discomfort. My intellect knew I was making the right choice; however, my heart kept pleading, “just one more day, just one more day.” But I could not be that selfish. It was time to let the furry love of my life for the past thirteen years go.

All I can say was the vets were very sympathetic and professional. I got to spend quite a few moments giving Embers my peace, something I had done at least 10 times in the last 2 days. I thanked her; I honored her; and I cherished and loved her completely. I asked Great Spirit to take care of her. Then we let each other go.

The last thing she felt was my gentle scritching of her chin. The last thing she saw were my loving blue eyes.

Now my apartment feels hollow without her. No sounds of her squeaks and chirps. No feeling of her paws padding my thigh while I sit typing at the computer. No smell of her soft fur under my chin. My baby is gone from this world and it feels incomplete without her in it.

EMBERS
ADOPTED 10/1994 at 7 years of age.
PASSED AWAY 1/13/2008 at the age of 20.
FOREVER BURNING IN THE HEART OF EMBER

Embers “Grand Dame” left my life in body but not in spirit. I still cry for her. Her regal presence continues to be a part of my family as she watches, like a sentinel, from her own altar.

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J is for Jameson

Long day.

Almost forgot to post.

My bad.

Here. Have some cutez.

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