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.

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?

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.

Spooktacular Bliss

As a child, I wanted Morticia and Gomez Addams to be my parents. How cool would it be to live in such an extraordinary house with your own mad scientist lab, unusual creatures, and live a life where every day was Halloween? Nothing you did could be strange enough. Nothing you tried would ever be considered ridiculous, ludicrous, or unrealistic. You would always be encouraged to go farther, to not hold yourself back, to just go balls-to-wall freaky and be appreciated for it.

*happy sigh*

Don’t get me wrong. I love my parents very much. Yes, they are human beings with issues, but overall they were damn fine parents and I am one of few who can attest I had a happy childhood.

But….as a kid we all fantasized about having a different life. Waking up one day and realizing you’re a princess or your father is Superman or your parents are super-secret agents. My fantasy was that I was an Addams. An Addams that dressed in GAP clothes, collected comic books, wrote horror stories at the age of 11, played with Legos and Barbies, and looked like your average, extra tall girl.

I suppose, to coin a phrase from Seanan McGuire, I am a Pumpkin Girl. One who likes to be pretty and carry a chainsaw. Or in my case, feel pretty and squeal with delight at how cute Alien is. Who doesn’t like Lovecraft, but adores Gaiman. Who dresses in jeans and high heeled boots, but wishes she lived in a Tim Burton movie.

The thought trigger behind this declaration is on the full moon of this month, I experienced a perfect piece of time. You’ve had them. A moment that is so intricate and perfect and naturally choreographed, no one could have been able to orchestrate it any better if they tried. Well, every October on the Labyrinth Moon, a few friends and I have continued a tradition I started years ago, the tradition of pathworking in a corn maze. Very simple, yet very powerful.

We did our customary prayers before entering the maze and with no help from the Hint Cards, we traversed the maze by our intuition and our goddess alone. There have been years of mud, rain, and clear skies. This year was the most amazing ever. There was a thin cloud cover to keep the heat in, but the moon’s rays illuminated the clouds like a low burning candle. The maze was well kept and the corn was very, very high; leaning and stretching like bony fingers from the ground. Next door was the pricier, and more popular, “Haunted Maze” where one could hear the teenage girls scream, the teenage boys guffaw, and the chainsaws….well…..chainsaw. Theme music from movies like “The Omen”, “Jaws” and “Halloween” crept effortlessly over the corn fields like dark silk. A nearby oak tree, massive in its age and wisdom, had thick, webby fog.

My friend and I took in the atmosphere and took our time walking the different paths. Occasionally we would hear an ominous gong sound within the heart of the maze. I put my ear close to the corn, “Do they have speakers in this maze too? I thought it was just the Haunted one?” The gong ricocheted off the mist and the corn and added an extra touch of spookiness.

Finally, after completing half the maze, we turned left, and were greeted with a straight path that led to a completely open area. I sucked in my breath. Before our eyes, mist was swirling around the tops of the corn. Spirals of movement could be seen and for the first time that evening, we witnessed a thinning of the veil. Swirls danced around. “I think I just saw a fae,” muttered my friend. We slowly stepped into the opening and realized it was in the shape of a heart. We were literally in the heart of the maze. In the center of that heart was a Tibetian bell. On that bell was a sign, “This bell represents your dream. Let others hear your dreams.” So we did. We each struck the bell 3-5 times and our dreams rippled out into the corn field and beyond the veil.

I stopped. I took a moment. Turning slowly round (and then twirling like Julie Andrews) I soaked in the mist, the low hanging fog, the eerie oak tree, the corn marking the boundary of this scared space, and the music…..by the gods I was so full of bliss and glee, I could’ve just popped. Or melted. Or both. I felt like I was in the middle of a Tim Burton movie and that the headless horseman was going to come riding out of the corn any second. Knowing me I would wave hello and duck.

It was a perfect piece of time. A spooktacular bliss that I shall cherish and tuck away with my two other perfect moments:

1. Senior year in high school, homecoming game, Halloween night. The moon was full and before half-time, the game was called off due to the impressive fog bank that rolled in. I remember walking back to the school and not being able to see anything beyond a five foot radius. Yet I could hear everyone else; their voices distorted and echoey as the fog warped reality. I loved every minute of it.

2. July 4th a few years ago in Logan, Ohio. I was visiting friends and the custom was to watch the fireworks being lit in the next county. How do we do that? By going to the highest point in town. And where was that? In a small, very old cemetery where an oak tree named Thor resided. Other people brought lawn chairs, but I opted to politely ask a resident if I may please use his headstone as my seat. He didn’t mind at all. So I sat there. On a headstone, in a cemetery, watching the fireworks as the lightening bugs floated about.

Perfect.

What’s your spooktacular bliss?

I Have a Creative Genius

Elizabeth Gilbert, world renowned author of “Eat, Pray, Love” gives an amazing, funny, scarily insightful speech at TED.

Getaway. Get. Away.

I was invited to go camping this holiday weekend with my very cool and very eclectic group of friends. As fun as it has been in the past, this time around my body cringed and my spirit rejected the idea. “No thanks,” I said. It was nothing personal (and they know this), but after spending four days at Beltane between rain showers, down pours, sky breaks, and drizzle, I was officially done with feeling cold and damp.

Besides, my taste for large groups has dwindled as of late.

Rather than waste this holiday weekend stuck at home, it was suggested I house-sit at my good friends house while they camped. Brrrrrrrriiiiiilliant, I say! It would ease their minds knowing someone they trusted was around to keep an eye on the furrkids, plus it would give me a much needed getaway to be ALONE. Just me, myself, and my shiny I.

A chance to stretch my wings and EXHALE.

A cozy abode that doesn’t remind me of home, but is still familiar and comforting. A place where I can let go and not be distracted so I can write, journal, process, and meditate. A weekend retreat for my Soul.

Also, the kick-ass entertainment system, Xbox 360, and Playstation 3 doesn’t hurt a geek girl either.

When I walked through the front door, I unloaded my bag and put away the groceries I purchased. But more importantly, I set up “Introspection Station” on their pub square dining room table. On one end is my laptop and going clockwise are my journals / tarot deck, a mini-shrine to my goddess, and my current knitting projects.

This will NOT be a weekend of distractions (that’s what home is for). No, this will be a working weekend of inner construction (watch out for those chakra pot holes!) and outer exhaling.

Time to rise up.

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.

16/365

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?

Day of Relishing

I went on my morning 3 mile walk usually reserved for Mondays. Because let’s face it, exercise is about as thrilling as Mondays and paying taxes. As I strolled I watched all the cars drive to their respective churches where folks fulfilled their weekly spiritual duty. Little girls dressed in their Sunday best as the mothers fussed with their unruly hair. Husbands being dragged, wishing instead they were home watching the game. A couple in their golden years, walking hand in hand, enjoying the moment and relishing in the love going to church brings them. Quite the kaleidoscope of characters.

Myself? This is what I breathed in and relished.

3/365

Where dream becomes art

The other night I had a rather detailed dream. I was in a new agey bookstore where they were having their monthly psychic fair. The place was packed. As I was only there to rendezvous with a friend, who was running late, I merely found an empty chair and waited patiently.

A bearded man approached me, the proprietor of the store, and handed me a bag full of beads and charms and pendants. It was one of those “Design Your Own” bags and this one had all the supplies I needed to design my own necklace. I looked through and noticed all the beads were a mixture of lapis and turquoise. There was even a thunderbird pendant and a few little charms of a witch’s hat, a broom, and a scrying mirror.

The storekeeper said I needed to make this, so when I awoke later that morning, I felt compelled to follow through with those instructions.

I dug through old jewelry and was able to find my lapis and turquoise. I picked my favorite pendant to symbolize the thunderbird. After an hour of scavenging and beading, I created this. On the first try. No redos.