World Tarot Towel Tea Party Day 2012

May 25th marked the third year my dear friend, Jaymi, and I celebrated World Tarot Day.  As it also coincides with Towel Day, we decided we’d create our own holiday mash-up.  The first year I believe we actually did our readings on towels laid out on the floor, while sipping tea.  To commemorate this occasion, I brought my newly acquired (and heavily lusted) Steampunk Tarot deck to work with me.  I wanted it to get out in the world.  Since owning the deck, I’ve only done one two-card reading and it was basically me asking the cards (aka “Steamy”) what kind of relationship we would have.  Quite promising, it displayed my Life Card and Judgment — a good connection where the messages will be strong and clear.

A co-worker wanted to see my deck.  I saw no harm in it, but then quickly thought differently as she went through the images and made remarks of “Oh, THAT’s a BAD card……that one too…..that’s pretty…..that’s BAD….Death, that can be terrible….oooo, I like THIS one.”  Ironically the one she liked was the Tower.  With every negative comment she made, I cringed.  I could feel my deck slowly pout with this vibe of, “What did I do wrong?”

Nothing.  Not a damn thing.  You are a beautiful, amazing deck, and we will work together for the good of all.  C’mere and let me give you a hug.

I’m not joking.  After such a harsh critique from someone who doesn’t know tarot and with me still working on that “New Deck Bond”, during my lunch break I took my deck outside, sat in the sun, and spent some positive quality time with it.  I even did another two card reading and the results were strong and clear.

Over at Jaymi’s house later in the afternoon, we shared tarot spreads and did a quickie reading on ourselves with our respective decks.  I pulled one card — Knight of Swords.

“Look at my plan; have you ever laid eyes on anything so lovely?” is the snippet from the book by Barbara Moore.  It goes on to say: Someone whose actions are motivated by new ideas, systems, and communication.

Well, I heard something else from the Knight.  The pen is mightier than the sword.  Write more.  Blog more.  Movement….effort….chug chug chug.

Jaymi and I discussed strategy on how I can be better, more consistant with my blogging because, gosh darn it, I do have things I want to say and share.  Problem being, when I get home from work I’d rather veg than continue to be productive.

That very evening, during a rather awesome Pacific Northwest thunderstorm, we drove to a friend’s Tarot Party.  It was an intimate gathering of other tarot enthusiasts as we drank wine, nibbled on hors d’oeuvres, and danced to disco music in the kitchen.  We gathered to share decks and talk shop.  At one point, one of the ladies wanted to see my Steampunk deck.  While she was looking through it, the still new gloss of the cards made them very slick to hold and soon went spilling across the floor.  All were accounted for, but what made Jaymi and I laugh was all the cards were face down except for one — the Knight of Swords.

Persistant isn’t she?

 

Create Your Own Adventure

A few weeks ago I had a weekend free of obligations. No chores, no visits with friends, no meet-up with like-minded writers – simply me and my space. My first reaction was to strip down naked and run around my fledgling apartment bellowing, “WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!” The sense of expanding freedom lifted my spirits to where I wanted to flame on and SOAR.

But soar where? Where would I go? What would I do?

Quickly my sense of freedom morphed into a daunting sense of dread. I had to do something, right? I couldn’t have a day free and simply not accomplish anything. Productivity was in order! I needed to embrace that Effort Engine and chug-chug-choo-choo to something wonderful or I’d feel guilty!

Whoa there, Nelly. Who said it had to be productive? Why not just get your ass out of the house?

So I did. For one day I pretended my life was one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books. Want to explore that cave — turn to page 23. Say yes to the handsome man offering you coffee — turn to page 17. Save the dragon from the army horde — turn to page 5. I changed my perspective from Getting Shit Done, to “How many cool experiences can I rack up today?”

I did some journal writing at my favourite coffee shop. I treated myself to an awesome lunch of awesomeness (with bacon!). I walked spontaneously into a salon where they were able to fit me in for a much needed hair cut and then I walked out thirty minutes later lighter on my feet. I knitted in public. When the day was slowly drawing to a close, I found myself at the neighborhood pub having a pint and a devilish dessert (regardless of the fact I didn’t finish my dinner. What would mother think??). Jotting some last thoughts in my journal, a bell went off in my head.

*Ding!*

“Create your own adventure,” I wrote, “don’t wait for someone to offer you one.”

How amazingly simple. So simple, we tend to forget it in this age of RIGHT THE FUCK NOW and TWEET ALL THE THINGS and FB POKE ALL THE FRIENDS. The best way to connect to the World is to disconnect. I had conversations with real people in real reality. I interacted. I watched birds bouncing around for muffin crumbs. I laughed with a nearby toddler. I smiled at the sun. I thanked the Gods for a truly satisfying day and the delicious stout I was drinking.

Lately that has become my motto. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if it’s partly due to one of my best friends dying back in October and then having my 42nd birthday. One could call it a Mid-Life Crisis, but I don’t believe it’s anything that shallow. I’m not dating a younger man or driving suped up classic muscle car. I believe the PTB (Powers That Be) are reminding me how fucking lucky I am to have a body that works, a mind that’s still sharp, a heart that’s strong, and a sense of child-like wonder and play that has not diminished over the years. Lift is too short to simply sit around and wait for someone to offer you an amazing experience. You have the power to create it all on your own.

So go do it.

The Angry Eye

Have you ever been racist? Or ageist? Or sexist? Or homophobic? If your answer is a confident “No!”, then watch and listen to this video and ask yourself that question again.

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

The timing, as they say, is impeccable, especially with what I’ve had to recently endure.

The Crocodile has smacked me with its tail and now I see where I am, where I’ve been for weeks. This amazing blog article resonates. I shall embrace my flux. I shall be own prism.

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 3rd 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!