Fashion for the Modern, Solitary, Hedge Witch

 There are women, and men, that know how to dress. No matter their weight, height, or circumstance they seem to have an inner beacon that guides them towards the clothing and shoes that most flatter their figure and personality. That isn’t me. 

I was born in the mid 1970s, which means that I began developing my first fashion sense in the 1980s… pause and let your imagination run wild, colorful, shoulders padded, hair stiffly sprayed, jeans rolled tightly, beads long and plastic.… There are rumors that we damaged the ozone layer and the global ecological balance with our sense of fashion. The 1990s had me in the backwoods of Pennsylvania immersed in the early days of homeschool culture. Most of the homeschool families then were highly conservative, religious, and had stay-at-home type mothers. Sewing was trending with that collective and the look leaned towards homemade jumpers. It was a fascinating phenomenon. The transition into the early 2000s found me pregnant off and on for over a decade. It wasn’t until 2011 that I experienced my last postpartum recovery year and I could really ask myself if I had a shape, and if my wardrobe had a style. 

And then there’s my hair. It is wavy and aging. It isn’t quite wild enough to make me look like a genius, and it isn’t ever tame enough for me to even try being trendy like a Disney princess. I have witch hair. It has a mind of its own and usually reflects my mood. Ponytails give me a head ache after awhile. I like hats, but they are only appropriate outside. They aren’t trending much anywhere that I go, not that I care much about fitting in, but I’m not necessarily trying to stand out either. I could wear some type of cloth on my head, and sometimes I do, but they don’t stay put and seem to send a confusing message of religious submission. Heavens forbid if I were to inadvertently make some religious patriarch think that I honor his thoughts on theology far more than my own… I’m not asking for trouble. I’m just trying to figure out what to wear and how to manage my hair without feeling odd, destructive, or sending the wrong message… but I’m often alone these days, so what is fashion to me if it isn’t practical and comfortable?

Spaekonas (Mothers Who Speak the Future into Being)

The mundane is sacred and enduring.

The profane is profitable and locomotive. 

The work of the housewife is noble and invaluable.

The work of the abortionist is lucrative and enroyalled.

The child in the arms of the mother is soothed, nurtured, cherished.

The child in the hands of the medical savior is sold off piecemeal.

They campaign against mothers to slander the most distraught as norm.

They are discrete regarding the crimes of professional slaughter and they legalize atrocity.

Who are they?

Many a bright womb is celebrated and enlivened by the joyful acceptance of a father’s love.

Many a family is created in the bosom of paradise, 

Growing, wriggling, thriving, shining like a nebulae.

The dark caverns of misery, and the corridors of shame will not engulf the 

 Morningstars of Love and Fidelity.

They will not shoot from the sky the evening stars of belonging and hearts entwined.

A mother’s love, the archetype of the highest order of the feminine, has been kenninged into

The fabric of humanity.

Signatures

 Throw me your bombs and weapons of war.

Throw me your sorrows and sufferings.

Throw me your ambitions, your pomp and circumstance.

I’ll accept them all into my nothingness.

From my vastness of not being they will emerge again as butterflies.

They will flit about in the Garden of Venus,

Quenched by the storms of Neptune,

Guided by the light of Alcyone,

Taught by the wisdom of Celeano,

Comforted at the Hearth of Merope.

After you have learned to dance with the butterflies

You will sing with the stars.

You will sing with the terra.

You will sing with the mari.

You will sing from the now.

You will sing from the then.

You will sing in harmony.

You will sing with melody.

You will sing for time.

You will sing for tide.

You will sing with longing.

You will sing with satisfaction.

You will sing with me and mine.

We are the winds of change.

We are what never was and will not be.

We are impermanence and improbabilities.

We are won’t and can’t and don’t.

We are why.

Getting Spiritually Dirty

Spirituality is similar to religion, but different. Religion is a bit like BigAg, spirituality is a bit like gardening.

Many people love the idea of spirituality, as do I, much like people might like the idea of gardening. Some people they don't feel the deep angst toward religion or BigAg as they embrace their love of spirituality and gardening.


BigAg farmers get all up in their fancy tractors and plough down county after county. They don't have the slightest bit of angst about chopping off the tails of piglets, crunching up rooster chicks in a grinder, stinking up the neighborhood with lakes full of pungent blood, poisoning the rain, endangering species and ecosystems, etc... you get my drift and my attitude about it... and I feel the same about religion in general. They are both nearly impossible to avoid and they both claim to be the only way to feed the masses.


A person can browse seed catalogs, buy seeds, draw up gardening plans, designate a space... they can do a lot of the stages of gardening that are really an upper, but until they get down on their knees in the dirt, until they realize how affected their efforts are by the weather, until they are tempted to dowse the asparagus beetles with poison and fence out the bunny rabbits from the carrots and cabbages, they just really don't understand the downers... Perhaps they even enjoy walking through the efforts of others, the beautiful gardens of the professionals, and they feel so gardenery, but that buzz doesn't make them a gardener.

Spirituality is much like that, seems to me. People can enjoy the thoughts, read the articles, perhaps even pay the fee to enjoy the work of the experts, but until they get down and dirty in their own deep psychological messes and figure out how to balance the nature of things without becoming toxic and fragmented, they are just playing games with their imagination, not that these are terrible games, and sooner or later they probably will grow a potted tomato or scatter about some sunflower seeds, and its all good.... sort of.

And then there is permaculture, learning from the wisdom of nature to create a domestic similarity. I am personally searching for the metaphorical equivalent...

I Wish I Could Sew

I Wish I Could Sew

When Erin’s gift to me for my 8th birthday was a Cabbage Patch outfit made by her mom that was cuter than the store-bought varieties, I thought, 

I wish I could sew.

When I visited Grandma Womer and realized the magic of her creativity, I thought, 

I wish I could sew. 

When I sat at home as a teenager without a sewing machine, I thought,

I wish I could sew.

When Jill loaned us a sewing machine and I made my first shirt and skirt, an ugly, uncomfortable set that no one would willingly wear, I thought, 

I wish I could sew.

When I joined the jumper making craze and impressed my friends with my super fast jumper making skills, they said,

I wish I could sew.

When I made flower girl dresses at the bridal shop, and made children’s clothing for friends, the moms said, 

I wish I could sew. 

The loan became a gift, but one day it took a tumble down the stairs and didn’t sew straight after that and I thought,

I wish I could sew.

When my life fell apart and back together, and then I had children of my own, but no sewing machine, I thought, 

I wish I could sew.

When a sewing machine entered my life, but I was so busy raising babies, I thought, 

I wish I could sew.

When I found time during naps and staying up all night while Jason worked late shifts, the creativity kicked in better than ever and I remembered the days when I thought, 

I wish I could sew.

Turns out that sewing is not something that many people can do, many of those people will say,

I wish I could sew. 

Some of them I took the time to teach, but unless you have the qualities of stubborn persistence and an addictive personality, sewing might not be right for you. After a whole week of teaching someone to sew, and I thought she seemed to have learned the basics, she said to all of her friends, 

I wish someone would teach me how to sew.

I stopped sewing. I heard more nasty rumors about me. Sewing didn’t feel as fun anymore. 

Grandma Womer died a few years later, she had taught me how to sew, and she really loved me. The thought of sewing felt inseparable from thoughts of her, and her unique blankets, the ones that kept me warm in my childhood, the ones I cherish now. I was grieving many things. It felt sad to sew, and I thought again, 

I wish I could sew.

Today, I tried again, to sew, and I did, and it was overwhelming. So many memories came flooding in with every stitch, like steps down memory lane, in a blizzard. A course came up on the computer, like a gift from the universe, “Overcoming Creative Anxiety,” and I signed up. 

I will feel.

I will heal.

I will wish.

I will sew. 

I made this slipcover today.... 

Mini-Autobiography or Self-Absorbed Narcissism? Blessed Others, You Can Judge, If You Feel Inclined.

Discrimination. 

Middle-class, white woman several generations ago immigrated from Euro countries, religious roots, married, heterosexual, pagan, home educator, no college education, stay-at-home mom of six beautiful, healthy, intelligent, creative children. Who would possibly discriminate? Ha! Who wouldn’t? Everyone gets discriminated against sooner or later. Some far more than others, it is true. The (google) dictionary definition of discrimination is:

1. the unjust or prejudicial treatment of different categories of people or things, especially on the grounds of race, age, or sex.
2. recognition and understanding of the difference between one thing and another.

So, in the first sense of the word it is the unjust bit that needs recognized and eliminated. In the second sense of the word… we should celebrate the differences! How boring would the world be otherwise?

Growing up. 

I was born to a woman and man, they were both always mama’s babies, and both were the youngest child in a large family of highly altruistic middle-upper class families. It didn’t seem to matter that much to the opinions of others that my father abused my mother on a regular basis (some knew, some didn't), that my mom leaned on me emotionally more than was healthy or decent (some knew, some cared), or that my home was the shabbiest one in a neighborhood of newer suburban dwellings (but I loved the big trees and grandma's home and land next door), fallen into disrepair we had. I was smart, cute and favored and I wasn’t personally getting physically abused. The girls I was closest to as a child found me difficult to get along with, and I suppose the feeling was vice-versa (I had and have almost zero self-awareness). Who was going to feel sorry for me for not being adopted? For not being a foster child? For not having a hard time with school grades? For being a high achiever in every way? Well, no one, why would they? Who would feel sorry for that? It didn’t matter that I was increasingly disliked because of those traits (and how grown-ups perceived them), or that the ones that might be most similarly favored and also high achievers were highly competitive, had mean girl syndrome (not all, there were a few meek and gentle souls, not feisty like me). It didn’t matter that I was too young to understand that the harder I tried to please the adults the bigger the gap I was creating with my peers. All I understood is that my mother was crying and worried about money and angry at my dad’s affair, and angry at the things she was taught about God, the only verse she seemed to really cling to for hope was “God is love,” the rest of the verses she beat herself up with, and all the counselors preached submission and gratefulness and good housekeeping. I was focused on keeping mom alive (several suicide attempts as well as the abuse), growing up and having a happy marriage… and I really liked school, until I realized it didn’t really teach me what I felt I needed/wanted to learn beyond maybe third grade… very glad for the literacy. As it turns out, mom feels that girls are less than.. no big surprise I guess, but it was a bit of shock to realize that it affected her love for her daughters, negatively. And that she actually wishes I would experience an unhappy marriage so that I could understand her suffering… wow. Thanks, but no thanks. I understand well enough.

Happy marriage.

These things don’t magically happen, although it does seem that some are more fortunate than others in finding compatibility. When I was a teenager there was a pastor in Perry County who was counseling my parents, he told me and my siblings that our marriages were doomed because of our poor examples. His curse backfired… gotta watch those curses. So far, I am one of the fortunate few. Not only have I been married to the same man for going on 20 years, I still really, really like him. We have to work at it. I appreciate how hard he works at it. That is something you can’t control, how hard the other person works at the relationship. I am blessed. I am also somewhat despised by those I know who are divorced, separated, and unhappily single. Perhaps they don’t always feel it, but sometimes they do and sometimes they say so. They might not use the word “despise,” but when you are in a puddle of blood from your own broken heart and full of loneliness you are not particularly happy for the lovers around you, especially the tried and true lovers, like a starving person watching people eat a delicious meal, but they can’t really share in this instance now can they? How many women in my life are separated, divorced, unhappily married, or haven’t found love…. most of them. The ones that are happily married to their first spouse are mostly hanging out with their husbands, as they blissfully should. My wish for the unhappy ones… healing and love, that is my wish for everyone, and stop glaring at me…. you have a future, live it, no one else can live it for you. And I know that mixed families are very blessed, but also that there are challenges specific to mixed families, I know because Jason and I are both children in mixed families, and it is hard! May you be blessed with wisdom and peace and joy and healing and love and happy futures! I think the one thing that I might be doing differently than many of the unhappy ones, is that I rarely despise those that I envy, not sure I even envy… I learn, I ask, I listen, I walk away from whatever insults my soul, and I follow my heart while bringing my brain along. I get lonely, but I also really appreciate the "simple" things in life.… I’m also rarely self-destructive. What I want (as I see it) is usually reasonable, healthy and win/win, and quite often counter-societal… seeing as how we living in an unhealthy, highly competitive society. I love comfort, but I don’t think I have a big ego… some might beg to differ… but those that know me and love me would probably agree… I am feisty, probably highly passive-aggressive, but fairly humble…. I know I am wrong and ridiculous sometimes, but I don’t let it destroy me, I try to make it right when I am convinced that I should. A lot of times others think I am wrong… and I don’t always agree with their opinion… there are a lot of opinions in the world to choose from. 

Religion.

I love to read. The Bible is a big interesting book. I loved reading it, exploring it. I was raised memorizing catechisms from Bob Jones University curriculum. I enjoyed them. Had to memorize several verses a week in elementary school. Bible camp was vacation. Daily devotions were how you started your day if you were well-balanced. I was in church several times a week and I loved being preached at. I got to know my grandfather (mother's father) through his library. He died when I was five, but that was when I learned to read. He had a lot of religious books. When I was a teenager I discovered my grandfathers old Exhaustive Concordance and I was hooked on Greek and Hebrew translations of the verses I had come to live by. Thing is… the more I learned the more I realized that theology was crap. The more I learned that theology was crap and the more I began to question that the more I began to question a lot of things. Through the study of the Bible I came to realize that the word “God” is used to cover up a lot of things that could get confusing if they were translated properly. Confusing things like… multiple gods. There aren’t many churches around here with polytheism in their doctrines…. an outspoke female polytheist doesn’t fit in very well in religious, patriarchal circles. Welcome to the pagan world, Amy. Unfortunately, I reek of conservative values. Not that I actually promote them, exactly, but I like living them. I don’t preach them to my children, but I am not going to change my life just to fit in with the ones that aren’t living like conservatives. So I don’t really fit in with the conservatives or the liberals… not really. Kind of like a black, gay, muslim, mexican, "ugly" woman, in a wheel chair at a Trump rally, they might contradict themselves by saying, "Oh yes, we believe in unity," but you know they don't... the same holds true for liberals, if you "smell"

too conservative they don't seem to easily accept you, understandably considering how untrustworthy conservatives are. I don't have any tattoos. My piercings are just the regular earring variety. I am a one lover, straight woman that has done her part to "overpopulate" the world. I have never dabbled in illegal drugs. I don't drink beer, but at least I do love wine and other "girlie" drinks. I don't smoke. I don't eat sushi. I am not vegan or vegetarian, but I do favor organic. I am not a career woman. I have never been arrested for environmental activism, or arrested for anything else for that matter..... Lol.... Are there any other stereotypes I can attribute to liberal "acceptance of other liberals?" Sorry, folks... I do think you are all fascinating, and Jason fits into quite a few more liberal stereotypes than me, so sometimes there is acceptance by association... nicely. 

Sex.

I am for it. Have sex. Are there rules? Perhaps innocence should be championed to a point? Consent would be a big thing in my opinion… But otherwise, not really. Are there consequences for better or worse? Yes! Know what they are to the best of your ability, and how they might affect you before having to pay them…. 

Gender. 

I don’t think I have a gender bias, hard to say considering the frequent disrespectful objectifying of women and demeaning of emotions and feminine thoughts and attitudes, but I also have a wonderful husband and awesome son, and my daughters have done a lot to show me that girls/women are awesome too… so no, I don’t think it is a gender bias, but I do believe in hormones. They need to be understood and respected. On the other hand… those stories of history… WOW!!!! Humans are capable of such sad atrocities, such cold hearts have wrought such sad stories. We need to be aware of the danger of gender discrimination (and other unjust biases), and how the danger of regretful societal behaviors is still very existent, and we also need to be careful not to swing the pendulum from victimizing one group to victimizing the group that was just victimizing them, and we need to accept that not everyone is going to fit “neatly” into our concepts of male/female roles, or any roles. Who are we to say what human roles are? Let each find their own way… so long as they aren’t physically (or otherwise) forcing themselves onto others…. 

Politics.

Hello, how are ya, Politics? Just getting to know ya… you are a bit of a big deal, but only because of what you affect…. and how much you affect it. Currency is important, but when it gets too big for its britches… new pants need made, or it needs put on a healthier diet. Politics and ethics are inseparable, but politics and religion need lots of space between them… very important that… for low suffering levels. This year I became a Democrat, not for the party, but because that was what I had to do to vote for Bernie. I didn’t realize until then how much I am not Republican, or how much most of my area is! I am probably not that much of a Democrat either… but I do find them much less offensive these days. The third parties don’t suit me any better… maybe Independent, but what does that really mean as far as a party goes?

Mommy wars.

Most moms really want to do what is best for their children. So, when someone tells you that you are doing it wrong you tend to "lose your shit" in their general direction, and sometimes in their specific direction. Many women are starting to be more compassionate toward each other, but not all. I have certainly gotten less dogmatic over the years, but that doesn’t change the climate of guilt by association. "Crunchy" moms, and home school moms are a trailblazing bunch… I admire the movement that I am a part of, but each family is unique in their approach, not a lot of solidarity, unsurprisingly, though the ones outside the movement tend to lump us all together. They are forgiven for their ignorance, as far as I am concerned, but it is can be exhausting to have to educate the “rest of the world" about “socialization” and what it is and isn’t, and there is so much more to us than that, though it is a lengthy explanation to say what. My children haven’t won any impressive awards, and they don’t have any concrete goals for their future… “gasp” lol! But I have watched many, many young adults pursue goals that they later regretted. Why force goals? They are living full, healthy, well-rounded lives. They are being, and being well. I am glad that I was able to make all the choices that I made for them, and I am glad when they make choices for themselves. I don’t feel that my choices need to be everyone’s choices, I don’t even feel that my own children need to follow in any of my footsteps. I want them to respectfully view me as a loving and valuable resource for their benefit. I also have aspects of my life that are my own, hopefully being an example they can respect and learn from. I want them to know that bad examples are never an excuse for bad behavior, and I want them to realize that life is always about learning, they are learning, others are learning, take responsibility for yourself and be aware that your relationships and choices affect you for better or worse. Be a better affectation if you can and appreciate the better affectations, have mercy on the lesser affectations, but also, probably steer clear of the those people and circumstances that aren’t win/win, unless you are very specifically and clearly walking a path of worthwhile altruism. My role in their education seems successful to a point. They might never be better at grammar than me, and they are probably better at math… I am not their all. Their father is not their all. We have led them to the best resources we could find for them according to how we interpreted their needs, their personal goals and the letter of the law. They also need other people. They need to go find those people sooner or later, they certainly have already found many blessed friends and acquaintances. I did not feel that daytime childhood institutionalization was the best answer for finding those other people… especially not forced institutionalization, since as soon as they got to a point where they could weigh in on decisions they were able to choose where they wanted to spend their childhood days. If they felt deprived in any way we would have sought to remedy that. They understand the difference between need and want. Deprivation is often about necessities, but wants should also be respected with balance and appreciation. I have tried to help them understand the consequences of decisions and how right and wrong are often subjective. Their are a lot of great parents out their with amazing children, I am glad that everyone is not exactly like us, but I also wouldn’t mind (would really, really love) meeting a few more people with whom we have a lot in common. 

More Parenting.

I do know how babies are made. I have been asked that more than once while being pregnant. (Rude gesture temptation.) People have a lot of opinions about parenting, as you probably know. People think I am a disciplinarian because my children tend to be “well-behaved.” I don’t really know why I have children that are always a pleasure to be around. I mean, I know how I got pregnant…  I know how they were born…. I know what life has been like together… I know that I do things differently than almost everyone I know… I know that there are a lot of other children that are also a pleasure to be around… and some that aren’t. Loudness, for babies, usually was a sign that care was needed, exhausting, but not too difficult to understand. Beyond the infant years loudness…  take it elsewhere, or excuse me as I go find somewhere more quiet… that might be my biggest parenting strategy. Character concerns were along the lines of, “Is that how you would want to be treated?” Sometimes they were given a segment of time and a place to consider the question for a short while, like a corner. Not so much… “Do unto others,” but more, “Do you really think you should have done that? And can you explain why?” Be a kind sort of person, as opposed to force your version of kindness on others, and please help me to understand your reasons when you haven’t seemed kind…. But truly… that has been a very small aspect of parenting in this home. Mostly it is just about creating an environment of compatibility, care and learning, and trying to grow to know how each other feels loved, secure and hopeful. Lots of books can give you outlines of advice, and maybe some of them are worth the 50 cents from the thrift bin, but no one can tell you who your child is except your child. That was/is the exciting part… getting to know these people who will always be among the most special people to me in the entire world. There are also a lot terrifying concerns regarding their well-being and also extreme feelings of parental inadequacy…. challenging thoughts. Mercy. 

Career

I respect those who have one. I also respect those who don’t. I like when people feel good about their career, I don’t like when they are snobby about it, and I feel sorry for people that have invested a lot of time and money and effort into decisions that they largely regret, the learning experiences of the unhappy ones have taught me the most, so thanks for sharing about your paths and choices and thoughts. I am growing in respect for those who leave a legacy that benefits the future. I would love to be counted among them…. but it usually involves vision and sometimes sacrifice… we shall see. Not sure I have a strong vision and I am not sure how much I am willing to sacrifice. Besides being an at-home type mother, which by the way is a very honorable full-time career, one that I find has been most complemented by being partnered up with a father, but I realize that is not always possible or necessary in the long term for others… for me it has been ideal. Looking ahead to when I am not needed full-time for parenting, I am leaning toward and investing in… energy healing through Reiki and Harp Therapy…. controversial perhaps, but very soothing, and that fits in nicely with my years of nurturing motherhood experience. 

Pause 

I think that might be all for now. If you have actually taken the time to read this, thank you! I feel interesting as a result of your attention. I would love to hear your feedback, because you are interesting too. 

Worthwhile Whimsy

Whimsical wanderings
Whimsical roots
Whimsical memories in rubber boots

The child with time to wonder and play
Will grow up with joy in their heart to stay

Protect them, dear mothers
Protect their joy
While they are little
Each girl, each boy

Support them, dear fathers
If you can
Remember the child
Within the man

Each adult has a child
Each child an adult
Inside them, to guide them
Seeking what can't be bought.

Being a Parenting Style and Ecosystems

Today it strikes me in a neat and tidy fashion that I don't have a parenting style, I am a parenting style. From a very young age I felt naturally compelled to "mother" little creatures and even my own mother. Interestingly, I preferred living things to the imagination of nurturing. I really didn't enter into playing with toys very much, a little bit, but my earliest memories involve other people and nature and a few favorite items that I just liked to look at and then I learned to read and devoured books. As a teenager I became increasingly convinced that I literally should become a mother, and thankfully I found my man, not just any man, but my man, the one I needed, the one that showed me that I am more than a mother, interestingly. As I raised my children I began to understand what it really means to be a mother. It isn't just about caring, although that is a huge part of it, but it is also about responsibility and observation and thinking, a lot of thinking.

In caring about my children I have realized that I have learned a few things about relationships in general, how I interact with others that I might be close to in varying degrees. First, I like to take care of their physical needs, food, warmth, home remedies for illness, etc. Then I move on to mutual respect and safety. With my children that would be the focus of the toddler years. With relationships it is the deciding factor of how close that relationship gets. If mutual respect can be established, as it fortunately seems to have mostly been in our home with the current teenagers, then we can move on to the discussions of observations, shared learning, holding on and letting go. When a relationship is able to reach that point I particularly enjoy it, but I also feel the growing pains. There is less nurturing there, more mutualism.

Mutualism, that is a lot like win/win. Not every relationship falls into that category. Most of my relationships haven't. Either I am benefitting or they are benefitting, it seems. My relationship with mothers seems stuck in the infant stages, caring for physical needs. The mutual respect exists in some cases, and is non-existent in others, but certainly has not moved on well, if at all, to the discussion of observations, shared learning, holding on and letting go. When those aspects were explored they crashed and burned, which seems to be a common dilemma in many households in the actual teen years, though in my mother relationships I was not a teen at that relationship stage, I was well into my adult years and mutual respect had not been well-established.

I find myself evaluating other relationships in my life. Are they at the physical needs relationship stage, like with our local farmer and yoga instructor? Have they moved to a mutual respect stage, like with coworkers and neighbors? Who might have actually made it through all three stages of physical needs, mutual respect, and of discussions of shared observations, shared learning, holding on and letting go? See, we don't struggle with the healthy letting go with those we aren't in close relationships with. I don't generally feel a pang of anything as the post man drives by, or when I leave most places of business, we might wave, we might chat, but then we go. If one of my children was walking away I would want to know where they are going, how long will they be gone, can we be in contact in some way while they are gone, and I would miss them, the same with my husband and others I feel particularly fond of, etc...

And then there is the stage of adulthood, a relationship we largely have with ourselves. The self-nurturing stage, it lends maturity to other stages of relationships when we are able to take care of ourselves emotionally and physically. In the adult stage we take responsibility for our own needs, while realizing the delicate interconnectedness that our actions and attitudes have on our environment in far-reaching ways. To be mature, to be a real adult not just in age, is to find, and thrive in, the well- cultivated mutualism, like a healthy forest or other ecosystem.  Those ecosystems are some of our greatest teachers.

They Are Your Shoes

Longing for more than myself.
Studying the alive.
Learning from the dead.
Wondering about wandering,
Is it really all that they crack it open to be?
I have tried a little wandering myself,
I found it to be harrowing.

What do I love?
Joy in the everyday.
Coffee is really close,
Wine slides into second.
I suppose that there is the threat of separation
Even with beverages,
but they have been around for quite some time,
and I am pretty sure that given even the bleakest of
circumstances there are hordes that would
prioritize the importance of coffee and alcohol.
Beverages are pretty close to immortal.
That is somewhat comforting.

Relationships on the other hand.
Be still my palpitating heart.
The darn ships take so long to figure out
Are so freaking hard to sail
And then they sink
Time and time and time and time again
The darn ships sink to the bottom of
Deep, blue sea, leaving me with
The devil for company.

Anyone that is in a relationship with me now
Will wonder if I am calling them the devil,
Goodness, NO!
If you are in a relationship with me now,
You are a saint, Sweetheart, a saint.

The devil is the voice inside my head,
the one that says that just as soon as I find
the skills necessary to navigate the stormy seas
I will be harvested by the reaper.
Or maybe I won't ever find the skills
Maybe there is a sailing purgatory
Forever taunting
Until you get it right
But you never will
What would be the fun in that
Who are these gods?

Which leads me to the "hope" of religion,
Which sounds a lot like this to me...
"God loves a select few. We want to say that God
unconditionally loves everyone, and we do actually say that, but the truth is that our God is an elitist that loves people more based on race and gender, and you, Amy, are somewhat outside of his favorites list, and always have been, seeing as how you are a "grafted" ethnicity, and a girl..."

The Goddess, on the other hand, she understands. I really want to get to know her better, but it seems that she loves covens.... she loves rituals, she loves dance parties, she loves temples, and she loves beauty. All those things seem to require people, strong, sensitive, beautiful people, preferably, but we all seem broken to little pieces by the angry hand of patriarchy. The Goddess and the God, I have no "Good Book" about them besides the earth and the creatures and the celestial heavens.... Like a little hedgehog, I am.

I saw a picture on social media the other day of a man forcing a woman to suck his dick. He was wildly supported in this, because the woman was just a picture and she wasn't really doing the deed, but it looked like she was, which is highly disrespectful to all women. What was particularly disturbing was how many women approved because they didn't like the individual woman who was being disrespected. They approved of a man forcing a woman into a perceived sexual act because they didn't like the woman and they rejoiced at the thought of destroying her reputation, or what might be left of it.... that is at the core of our society. Things that people would find wildly despicable on the one hand they tend to find acceptable if they think the person "deserves" it... and the reasons for "deserving" it are almost always related to conditioned opinions.

I have been hearing a thought lately from several places along the lines of, "your greatest weakness is also your greatest strength." I think that for our society it is money. I think that for me it is thinking. I don't know what to do with all my thoughts. They aren't all good ones, but I really don't know which ones are any good and which ones aren't and even if I did know how to tell them apart I don't know what to do with them.

Everyone has thoughts, but it seems to me that some people aren't particularly good at thinking. They are better at something else... we need to work together, but they think they are good at thinking which scares me, because maybe I only think I am good at thinking. There are certainly those that enjoy telling me I am full of crap, and sometimes they are very correct, but if they would take the time to talk to me about why they feel that way it would help me reason my way through whatever it is and come to a slightly adjusted perspective, no doubt. That doesn't mean we would come to an agreement. Everyone seems designed to live life with bias, it is as if it is programmed into our life projection for the purpose of balance, or something....

At any rate, the most interesting thing about life for me these days is relationships, and what makes them tick. Are all "strong" relationships primarily based on mutual need? It doesn't seem that they start out that way all the time, but truly it does seem to be what decides longevity.... mutualism.

I have to ask myself, "Has my heart grown cold?" I am so tired of the bull shit, so tired of the lies, so weary of the shallow existence that the masses pursue with their health and wealth and sanity. Not that sanity is the goal, there are different types of insanity, some are good, some are not so good. The insanity that decided to go with gut instinct and fly when you have never flown before, even with sharks in the water below you, that is a good type of insanity, albeit a potentially deadly one, but the insanity that says "don't fly," stay here on this beach and starve in loneliness and fear, that is an insanity that is not the good kind. (Watch a documentary on Albatrosses for greater insight into that analogy.) You might argue that they are both types of sanity, perhaps, until you put yourself in that position, until you realize that is your life, you don't even have pretend to wear those shoes, they are your shoes.

Would it be true, then, that at the essence of what we have "failed" at most sadly is also what is most likely our life calling?

Learn and Let Live

I believe in enemies.
I believe that enemies offer a valuable perspective of our weakness and our strength.
I don't particularly like having enemies, but they have taught me much and I am grateful.
I do prefer friendship.
(Yes, I just started four sentences with "I" and I don't give a damn if they are in a paragraph, and I know there are people that will quickly judge a person's character by their sentence structure and, well... how is this for sentence structure... f u.)

One of the things I have learned is that to love your enemy does not have to mean that you have become friends.

Having a few enemies has also caused me to look at good causes in a different way.
Being justified and perhaps even correct often results in being unjustified and incorrect, or so it seems from studying what we know of history. For example, when one group of people gets victimized by another group of people those who are victimized have every right to be angry about their situation, to demand respect, but they are not necessarily justified in their retaliation, especially when that retaliation is every bit as brutal and heartless as the original offenses. Bigotry does not justify bigotry. I do not believe in an eye for an eye. I do not believe that when the rivers ran red with the blood of men, women and children that the best answer was for the rivers to run red again with the blood of more men, women and children and yet, over and over and over again the genocide begins with a good cause.

Every good cause without love for its enemies is capable of becoming a bloody genocide.

The Larger Tribe

It isn't that we have too many humans, exactly, it is that we do not have enough humanity. We do not live with the understanding that this earth is a place for all who are born on it, all that lives on it and sits on it and exists on it. We do not endeavor to create a well-balance environment. It seems that we  endeavor to amass items for ourselves with the great fear that we will suffer and die if we do not, yet suffer and die we will anyway. I hope that there is a greater lesson. I hope that we are like little children in a beautiful playroom, left to our imaginations. I hope that our souls are without damage. I hope that there are beings more benevolent and wise that are allowing us to learn through play. Children are magical and brutal. Their innocence and selfishness are both charming and terrifying. We are not unlike them, even as adults.

Even the sacred indigenous groups that folks like myself love to learn from, even they are often highly territorial. They seem to have learned the necessity of respecting their environment, but they do not seem to recognize humans as their tribe. Our tribes are all small. All humans can trace their ancestry back and back and back and back... no one is more exclusive, no one is more entitled, no one is more sacred, no one owns the earth.

Dreams

I've had some dreams lately about people I know well, people I am getting acquainted with, and people I do not recall having met yet. They were not nightmares, but they were not entirely pleasant either, along the lines of accidentally being at a birthday party I was not invited to, a loved one vomiting on vacation which annoyed the innkeeper, and holding someone's lost keys and not being able to find the person they belong to....

I think that tarot card interpretations are helping me to perceive dreams and life with a different perspective. For instance, Death is tarot card that can mean many things. Since ending are always beginnings, Death is not necessarily a terrible card, although change can be scary and mournful. The innkeeper is akin to the Death card...

The birthday party and keys were both in a house that was not my own. It was actually a workplace of someone I know quite well and all the people in it had extreme feminism and extreme social altruism in common, but like tarot cards, a good thing out of balance is not such a good thing. I might not have recognized what the subjects of the dream all had in common if it had not been for that dream. I am grateful for the realization and I now need to proceed with perspective and feeling with my own balance in equilibrium, which is not an easy thing to do as evidenced by the many, many unbalanced people in the world...

The thing that the dream helped me to realize about extreme feminism is that although it appears to have liberated the woman, and in many ways it truly has, and I am so very thankful for those liberations, yet in the extreme sense it seems to encourage a woman to embody patriarchal principles, essentially destroying the matriarchal archetype. The patriarchal extreme is to destroy the matriarchal archetype by suffocating it with patriarchal expectations and demands, along the lines of the feminine existing solely to feed the needs of the masculine as if the masculine is a parasite, which isn't fair to either archetype. The balance is to celebrate the matriarchal archetypical qualities and the patriarchal archetypical qualities. Men and women are capable of embodying and representing these archetypes, but these archetypes are not gender specific, and each gender needs the balance of both archetypical qualities. Emotion and power both need embraced in our character,  not exchanging one for the other. To be nurturing and powerful is a most difficult, but essential combination, so very much needed.

Favorite Sounds

The first loud cries of a newborn baby

Toddler composed songs

Winter silence

Springtime birds in the morning

Crickets in the evening at midsummer

Locusts and owls at midnight, late summer

The screech of a beginning musician

Singing at the kitchen sink

Giggles at a funeral

Sobs at a wedding

The turnover of a cranky engine

Epic soundtracks at mundane times

Ancient acoustics

Your children are like you

And they are wonderful

Here’s coffee and milk

You are welcomed

Walk Like a Tadpole

From the stars it shines
The blue cord of time
Reminding me of these
Things of truth and unity
Why I'm here
And what it cost
Without my presence
What would be lost
struggles always very real

leave a warrior
loathe to feel
the constant pain
of cutting reins
the load once heavy
now simply sings
of epic fights
and not one right
just deep and long
so goes the song
standing still upon a hill
the sweeping vista boggy
the deepest pits
we soon will know
now mystical and foggy
should we fear?
should we turn back?
should we give up?
what do we lack?
what will we make?
what will we kill?
will we die?
we know we will,
till then we try,
we try for home,
we try for hope,
we try for balance,
we feel the rope.
the whip of time,
it lashes out
across our backs
we learn to doubt
the smart ones talk
they say we make
the bed we leave
they say we choose
the breast we cleave
they say we knew
that time we weave
and space we heave
with each sweet breath
with each brief thought
linger long we should
but don't
on the hook
that has us caught
we don't think much
about the trap
not at all
about the snap
that could be had
if fought we did
against the pull
against the harvester
against the cruel
cold hand of fate
that we believe
has yet to make
or break our life
unless we grow
something that
does not exist
something
we must manifest
so think we must
think long and hard
about the
hand
about the
card
do you really want to be
the fish they caught
these fishers of men?

Gleaning

Gleaning is a practice of collecting what is left over from the harvest. The farmer would go through and collect the lion's share and purposefully not pick up the scraps, because that was how welfare worked then. Those who needed food could collect the scraps. Maybe welfare still works that way somewhere, but I am not familiar with it being a local practice in these parts of the world.


I am purposefully using that word in regards to my understanding of the gods. I feel like I have what is left over from the harvest of religions. Years and years of opinionated religious toils have left the field worked over, just bits and pieces of what was are now left for me to scrounge. Yet, these bits are seeds, and plant them I will.

One variety of seed is called "El Ohim." I don't entirely understand all that it is, but I know that it is plural. The "El Ohim" are the ones referred to in Genesis as "We." The "We" who made mankind in their image, "male and female." Theories suggest that the ancient texts have been written and rewritten to reflect various view points, and that seems to make sense to me. I have also heard that some believe that each word, even each letter holds significance, perhaps a meaning all its own. That also seems believable to me, but I make of it then my own accounting.

The significance continues with another word "El Elyon." El Elyon is the highest of the El Ohim. You have heard of a "man's man?" Well, El Elyon seems to be a "god's god."

Who the Els are could be highly debated, of course, like all religion, politics and child-raising... I just can't let go of the debatable, but nonetheless, all I'm saying is that I too have opinions. Don't you just love them, opinions?

My opinion is that the Bible is polytheistic, at least in part, and that opinion makes me smile and opens up my views. I have planted that seed in my thoughts, and it is growing nicely.... matter of fact, it has grown so big over the recent years that I have fully embraced the concepts of polytheism outside of the Biblical narrative as well, and that also makes me smile and opens up my views so large that the Bible is now a part of my own historical influence, a portion of my belief system. So many interesting, interesting stories of gods and god's gods, and they seem to have similarities, as if all of our ancestors grew on the same earth.... amazing, isn't it?

Just in case you would like to look into the Els a little more for yourself, if you haven't already, I recommend these links: Bible Hub Hebrew Study of elohim and Bible Hub Hebrew Study of El Elyon

Mad/Sad

An article came across my social media today that got me to thinking... a lot of things get me to thinking, but here is this particular train of thought...

The article was in regards to traumatic shaking. It referred to dogs after a dog fight, how they shake. I wouldn't know anything about a dog fight, but I do know about traumatic shaking. I shook uncontrollably after labor and delivery for each of my children. Perhaps it happened each time, perhaps it was just most of them, I just remember it happening several times, a lot is foggy about all that.

So, the article states that the shaking is the body's way of releasing the memory of pain that would otherwise be stored in the physical body, as opposed to the emotions. The idea of our physical body having its own memory is a fascinating concept, one that also leads to generational memory and PTSD across the ages. It would be nice to also include some positivity in all that, and I am sure it is there... somewhere... I mean, definitely it is for the labor and delivery... my children are totally worth it.

What feels less worth the trauma and shaking was a single instance of extreme stress after an encounter regarding my mother. I can't even remember the details of it, but I remember shaking so uncontrollably and thinking that the only other times I shook like this were after the harrowing hours of birth. It all made so little sense at the time, but as I muse on it now I realize something. One of my primary thoughts during labor and delivery was a religious indoctrination. The one that says that the pain of childbirth was a result of an ancestral woman eating a piece of fruit, and that some hateful, hateful god decided that all women should experience extreme and sometimes deadly painful birthing consequences as a result of this "failure in judgment." I felt so hated by this god. Something deep inside me has completely rebelled since then. I refuse to buy that hatred hook, line and sinker like so many have before me, like so many still do.

My mother and my husband's mother were also raised under this ideology.... the one that says that women deserve their pain, that women are inherently cursed to suffer, and that there is absolutely no redemption for it. Maybe, if we are good enough, our souls can manage to get into eternal heaven, maybe... but we are women after all, so don't count on it. I know that my mother and my husband's mother also have a deep sense of self-loathing in the core of their being, but it doesn't help one iota when they project that self-loathing onto me and/or my daughters. When they favor their sons, their husbands, their fathers, the whole patriarchal regime over a little girl.... it can make me shake uncontrollably.

I feel bad for them. I feel bad for the ideology and brainwashing that they endured and still endure. I appreciate that they rebelled even as much as they did, but they haven't been healed, not completely. Maybe they have moved forward on their path of healing, but they still perpetuate the madness. The only way for me to move forward, to heal this body, these genetic memories, to clear the slate for my children, all my children, is to reject the madness, to stand firm in the belief that there is a sacred feminine that is beautiful. That the deep feminine aspects of our beings are not in competition with men, we don't have to be equal to or better than or less than... they are them and we are us. They represent a sacred masculine and we represent a sacred feminine... two similar, but very different representations.

It isn't just women that suffer due to this grotesque mindset, it is also men, males, boys too. Women are the nurturers. Women are the life-bearers. Women are the sensitive beings that physically respond to the cry of an infant, quite literally! Breastfeeding mothers are likely to begin the letting down of milk when they hear an infant crying, sometimes it doesn't even need to be their own infant, a crying baby=a leaking breast! The inner child in all of us needs the wholeness of representation of the divine feminine. We need to know that our cries cause a deep nurturing reaction. We need to know the love of a father and a mother to be whole. I want to insert the word divine before father and mother, that we need a divine father and a divine mother, but that takes so many back to a religious concept... this concept of a divine father that heartlessly stands by and watches all women suffer violently while giving birth, many of these women being completely unwilling to have been impregnated in the first place.... many others giving their lives for love of child they have never seen. That is not the kind of divine father I am talking about, may he rot in the hell of all the pain of all the labors of all the women of all the ages.... this god "they" call merciful... are "they" insane?

My mother has asked me, "What have I done? What have I done that has caused you to stop loving me?" My response... "You taught me how to love conditionally. I am sorry. I am trying to learn another way, a better way, but first I have to heal the memories, the ones deep in my psyche and my DNA, the ones your mother taught you, and her mother taught her. The ones you haven't been able to heal yet. I need to do this for myself, and my daughters. There is rumor that healing can even go back in time. Let us hope so."

They also say that when you have sex the women quite often will absorb the man's DNA. She literally becomes a piece of him. So, although some of my in-laws have officially decided to not recognize me as family... a recent obituary proved that... the truth is... I am blood family, even without acknowledgment. I carry the memories of both sides of the family in me, especially since mothers also carry the DNA of their children after birth, a bit of it stays, keeping them always connected, which I suppose is how I can send healing both ways... if I can figure it out without self-destructing first.

Previous generations, if you yell at me, if you take me for granted, if you disrespect me in any way, even by playing the victim....  I must step away. I must shake it off... even if I sound like a pop song..... *chuckle.* I know you don't know any better, but I do know better, I just have a lot more to learn about it, and I can't have you continually triggering fresh shakes.... I am trying to grow a new paradigm, a loved generation. My door is not completely closed to the previous generations who have disappointed, but after each hurtful episode the obstacles in the path grow higher and your love will have to be bigger to surmount them. Next generations, I make no promises, I claim no accolades, but I am trying to know what it means to be love and I hope that counts for something.

I have struggled with the realization that I give much more of myself to my children than I give to my parents. I give more patience, more time, more money, more energy, more hope, more everything. I have been given guilt trips for that from the older generation, "Don't you know you are supposed to honor your mother and your father?" The best advice I was given regarding the guilt trip is that parents bring children into the world, those children don't ask to be brought into the world, so the parents have a responsibility toward the children, more so than the children have to the parents. Many parents have used the argument that their children "owe" them... I don't feel that way about my children. I should hope that if I ever have need of a hand to steady me as I age, that their love for me will cause them to consider it an honor, but if I have not earned that honor and respect, then it would be horrible of me to demand it. I don't think I would turn away an elderly person that asked for my help, if I truly thought they needed it, but I will not be manipulated or guilted into sacrificing for my parents what is rightfully due my children, at least rightfully due by the rules of my heart, and mind, and soul.

My enemies may gloat. My mother may garner sympathy from all her friends. My father doesn't give a damn about me... My in-laws might not have a clue what to think of me, they certainly don't favor me, fascinated?... maybe... love? not sure... would be nice.... maybe someday I'll know.

Fortunately, the steps forward that have been made, hard won perhaps, are blooming and growing and  deep and healing between the masculine manifestation I call my husband and the feminine manifestation I call myself. We are growing together. Time has refined our love, strengthened our trust, deepened our insight and sweetened our tears. Praise the gods! Whoever they are... the benevolent ones that react with nurturing when we cry....





P.S. Life is a potluck, everyone brings a dish, eat at your own risk... It might have botulism, or it might be the best thing ever, in which case you need to track down that recipe.

Cozy Cage

Little hamster
Running free
Lovely lessons
Teaching me

Every night
You'd fuss and fret
Freedom trying
Hard to get

One fine day
You did break through
The roof no longer
Sheltered you

Away you ran
Without a fear
Delighted that
The coast was clear

A little question
Rose to mind
When water there
You could not find

A wiser critter
You became
And sauntered out
For me to claim

No struggle
There was
You just waited
For us

And happy
You seem
In the cage
Of your dreams

Not every cage
is built with love
Though some the gods
Built from above

I Am a Renaissance

I write, but I don't feel like what I imagine a writer feels like.
I play the harp and I sing, but I don't feel like what I imagine a musician or singer feels like.
I am artsy. I do art. My home is covered in evidence of that, but I don't feel like what I imagine an artist feels like.

I'm not sure what it is, lack of commitment, lack of inspiration, or simply a lack of personal acknowledgment?

What makes a person assume the identity of what they do as who they are?

I am a writer.
I am an artist.
I am a musician.

I garden.
I cook.
I bake.
I sew.
I crochet.

I have had piano lessons, singing lessons, harp lessons, gardening lessons, painting lessons, Reiki lessons, Aikido lessons. I have children and I am their primary educational overseer. We utilize aromatherapy, massage therapy, and holistic health concepts. We raise goats, chickens, dogs, cats, rabbits, aquarium critters, and a hamster. We tap Maple trees, tend beehives, make soap and candles. We dry herbs for a variety of uses, and make tinctures. We make wine. I don't do these things alone, but I am involved in all of them to varying degrees.

Is it that I am just doing too many things? I certainly don't do them all every day, but everyday I am doing at least one of them.

Perhaps I am having a hard time with singular labels because I am a renaissance.

The Echo of Tree Rings

Numerous personality profiles define me as leadership material. That always baffles me. I do not see myself in the way that people tend to see leaders, not human leaders anyway. Human leaders are like tall trees. They are obvious, strong, stately, and over-shadowing, intimidating, etc. I am just prickly.

Then I realized, in nature the tall trees are the leaders toward doom, not the leaders of healing, though they do offer much healing. A forest full of tall trees beckons loggers and wildfires. A tall tree is old and many of them die on their own without the hand of man. An old tree is impressive, because they don't all get that old. On the other hand, if you plow a field and then let it sit fallow you will get common weeds, lots and lots of common weeds, brambles mostly, raspberries, blackberries, hawthorns, blackthorns, nettles, burdocks, etc. They won't all be prickly, you will also get things like poison ivy! If walking through that field in two years, or so, don't wear short pants! You might not even be able to walk through that field without some sort of cutting implement. Those are the real leaders, the mothers of the forest. They will sort out the properties of the soil and encourage the growth of the appropriate weeds for the balance that is required for the little saplings. They will protect the little saplings from a variety of threats. They will offer gifts to anyone thinking of plowing that field again, gifts of berries and medicinal herbs. Granted, there are few these days that understand the value of those gifts, but that does not make them any less valuable. The value of a field that sits fallow for a few years is so great that Nature herself will burn down an ancient forest so that the underbrush can be reborn.  If all those little prickly leaders get their way they will one day be overshadowed by the giants of the forests.

I am in awe of tall trees, especially the ones that are in ancient forests. I am not a tall tree. I am a prickly little mother leader.... the kind that every tall tree has way, way back in its family story. Maybe some day I will be overshadowed, perhaps by a tall tree with little squirrels in its branches, the forest planters, they promote the leaders of the next generation, as do the birds, and the bees, and the flowers, and all the trees... such interconnectedness.

A Pendulum and Tarot Exercise

I was a bit unfocused today, which is nothing new, but on days when there aren't any pertinent calendar events then that feeling of being particularly unfocused usually leads me down a mystical sort of path. It took a little while to establish the energetic interaction that felt beckoning. The tarot cards and the pendulum, a fresh green pillar candle, some mint for smudging, a bit of Reiki to start off, and the course was beginning to develop some definition.

My path is currently meandering through the neighborhoods of Self-Discovery and Self-Initiation. My teachers are primarily books, articles and promptings. I do consider myself very fortunate when I occasionally encounter a flesh and blood mentor with respectable experience. I always learn something that feels quite valuable, though I try not to give away my own power, that is, the power of intuition. If something doesn't feel right, I just want to discreetly shelve it. I have also learned that there are a lot of conflicting views about most things, so adopting my own perspectives is strongly about what resonates well with me.

What I found myself doing today was not something that I read anywhere or was taught from any person, but it felt wonderful and energetically led. I lit a green pillar candle. I smudged my cards with mint and laid them all out, face down in tidy rows. Then I positioned the pendulum over the first card in the corner to my right and observed the activity of the pendulum, or lack thereof. The pendulum's motion was the first communication, the second communication was the clairaudient words, such as, if the pendulum was swinging in reverse the clairaudient words might be, "This is something that you are in the process of letting go." Or, if the pendulum was swinging forward the clairaudient communication might say, "This is a lesson that you are learning." If the pendulum was swinging wildly forward the clairaudient words might be, "This is a lesson that you have learned well." All these instances and more were part of the reading today. After the pendulum showed its activity, and after a clairaudient communication about its particular meaning for me regarding the card, the card was then turned over and reflected upon. All of these things were journaled and occasionally an additional comment was dictated. I got a little over three rows in when the pendulum no longer showed any activity over cards, and the clairaudient communication was. "That is all for now. Reflect." Not all of the cards in the first three rows had pendulum activity. There were a few that were still. That was communicated as, "Not currently applicable to your path."