Tag: Pagan

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yuletide blessings

I am, admittedly, not the most devout and practicing Pagan, aside from Samhain, which has always been my favorite holy day. But today marks the Winter Solstice, the start of the twelve days of Yule.

I’ve always loved a good fire, and in ancient tradition, the Yule fire burned for twelve days. This can be looked at as a sort of sympathetic magic, meant to encourage the sun to move forward and lengthen the days because, on the Winter Solstice, the Celts (and others) believed that the sun stood still.

From the Summer Solstice, the days grow shorter until we reach the Winter Solstice. This is the dark time of the year, but from this day forward, the days grow longer and the nights shorter until we complete the cycle at the Summer Solstice.

The Yule log isn’t the only sympathetic magic we engage in at this time of year. Those lights we hang on our trees, porches, eaves…that all started the same way. Drive out the dark, entice the sun to return. And that feast? Back in our pre-Christian, pre-electricity days, we had to squirrel away food from the harvest to get us through the winter, but by Yule, we know the spring is coming, and with it, the earth will once again bear fruit. So we eat heartily as a way of trusting that we will plant again and harvest again.

I don’t want this to turn into a diatribe about stolen traditions…or even stripping those traditions of their original meaning/purpose. I want to celebrate, because gods know this year could use a little celebration.

I don’t have a fireplace, but if I did, there would be a fire burning in it. Instead, I will light candles and wish for spring.

Whether you celebrate Yule, Christmas, Hannukah, or some other holiday this time of year, I hope it brings you joy, the comfort of home, the love of family, and blessings for the coming days, Readers.

Photo by Nathan Lindahl on Unsplash

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the taste of autumn

There is just the hint of autumn on the air this week. It is different here in California from the autumns I remember as a kid. Back then, this time of year brought the smell of dry leaves and apple cider, the cool temperatures that kissed the grass with frost in the early mornings and the expectation of a new school year, which itself came with new clothes and supplies (yes, my love of pens and notebooks started early).

Here, as we creep out of summer and into autumn, the nights turn cool while the days stay warm. There is no demarcation of a new year to celebrate because the work year runs along without that summer playing in the sun or the start of school, and as adults, I no longer have to wait for September for new clothes (or pens and notebooks).

The night begins to slowly overtake the day, the sun sinking earlier in the day and the nights a little bit longer each day until Yule. Tomorrow marks the Pagan holiday of Mabon, a time of rest and reflection when the harvest is done and stored up for the winter. It is a good time for physical and mental house keeping. Clear out the clutter and sweep out the cobwebs.

I’ve got a little taste of autumn in my coffee this morning, with some Death Wish Pumpkin Chai and some hazelnut creamer. And, I’ve got an hour or so to write before I embark on the day job. I call that a good start to a Monday.

Hope the day treats you well, Readers!

Photo by Jeremy Thomas on Unsplash

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thoughts of spring

Happy Beltane, my friends. Traditionally a holiday associated with fertility and sexuality, Beltane is a celebration of life. It marks the start of the growing season, at least here in the northern hemisphere, when we turn our attention to planting gardens and the birthing period for many animals, both of the domestic variety and the wild.

One of the things that drew me to Paganism many moons ago was this attention to natural cycles, the celebrating of the cycle of life. While I’m not a very active Pagan these days, this is still very resonant for me.

Spring really starts for me when I can get my hands into dirt, planting seeds, transplanting plants. It calls to the nurturer in me. This week I got a cherry tomato and a jalapeno pepper planted, plus did some thinning of my carrots and planted some more potatoes. It’s a small little garden, but it suits me.

I’d love to have a huge ornamental flower garden too, but as I am allergic to most flowers, I’ll have to just admire them from afar.

Today is a traditional Saturday however, which means coffee and writing, followed by housework. I hope to have good news about that poetry collection I was talking about last week soon. Until then, Readers, I hope your life is incalescent (today’s word of the day on my Facebook post…it means increasing in ardor or heat).

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cognitive dissonance

As someone who was at one time an Evangelical Christian, my relationship with Easter is, at best, problematic. At one time in my life, I considered this to be the most sacred of holy days. Today, it represents all that I came to despise about Christianity.

Unlike Christmas, which I can sink into as a family holiday, a secular celebration of the ones I love, I can not reconcile a secular Easter. Sure, here in the US, Easter is at least as much about candy and bunnies and such as it is about the resurrection of Christ, and there are a fair number of Pagan roots behind some of it, but somehow I have never been able to divorce the Christian understanding of the death and resurrection of their Savior from the fertility rites of spring.

There’s a lot of bad theology, along with some basic premises of Christianity, at play in my feelings. The brand of Christianity I walked away from was a bit fringe and very devoted to the idea that human beings, at their very core, are dirty, filthy, something to be denied the right to present themselves to the supposedly loving god who created them without painting themselves in the blood of another.

The cognitive dissonance that comes with marrying this idea to the idea of a loving god was what I think eventually broke through the programming and freed me up to really study the theology and religion as well as freeing my heart to actually find love.

I’m not going to go into details here. If you’re really interested you could visit my other blog and dig through old posts where I was processing out what I believe and what I really don’t believe. I haven’t posted over there in a long time though. Happy Spelunking!

Because of the way we pick the date of Easter, I often forget about it until I sign into Facebook and see a bunch of posts about it. Some years this has sent me spiraling through a bunch of not great emotional debris and internal dialog. This year seems to be less a spiral and more like a blip of “oh, hey, yeah…that was a thing” feeling. Maybe it’s the amount of introspection this year has involved.

Or maybe I’m outgrowing the trauma. And yes, I liken that theology to trauma.

Anyway, all of that to say, if you celebrate the return of spring or the return of your god, or just that it’s Sunday, I hope your celebration is fulfilling and filled with life and kindness.

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where hope grows

I grew up in Upstate New York, where the very first signs that spring was on the horizon were the daffodils that poked intrepid little heads up through the snows that wouldn’t yet melt for a few weeks (or more). For the longest time, daffodils were my favorite flowers because of that, and they still hold a special place in my heart.

When you’re still in the depths of the cold hard embrace of an Upstate New York winter, after the fun of snow has become the drudgery of slush that has frozen over and cold toes that don’t seem to ever get warm, that first little hope of spring is a most welcome thing

It seems we are facing much the same feeling with this pandemic right now. We are all so done with sitting at our windows, looking out on a world that is filled with hidden dangers, and we just want to be able to go to the movies, and out for coffee with friends.

Vaccines offer us that first hint of hope that our year-long winter of disease is coming to a close, but just like those first daffodils herald a spring that may still be a long ways off, so too does the promise of immunity come with a caveat. Many a blizzard has buried those first daffodils, reprimanding them for sticking their heads up too soon. Returning to our normal lives too soon will bring with it another blizzard of Covid-19 to swat us down and set back our recovery.

Hope grows where vaccines are planted, but immunity takes some time to blossom. So, as we turn the wheel of the year toward Imbolc, let us hope, but remain vigilant.

Happy February, Readers! May it be filled with love and kindness.

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kill it with fire

I don’t know about you, but this entire year has been ten years long and filled with awfulness, from people proving that we’ve become a selfish, greedy nation that doesn’t care about the less fortunate to the government abdicating its duty to take care of its people to the actual pandemic that has killed nearly 350,000 of us, and I am ready to put it behind me.

That isn’t to say that some good stuff hasn’t happened this year. It has and with luck it will produce some good news for me to share soon. However, being a Pagan who does on occasion still pull out the big box o’ritual, and who really, really wants to make sure that the bad of 2020 stays IN 2020 and doesn’t follow us onward, I plan to kill it with fire before midnight on December 31st. How, you ask?

Well, I’ve put together two rituals for folks who might also like to kill it with fire or maybe bind it, stick it and stone it to death. I’ve written them in a way that almost anyone can participate and adapt it to their beliefs/practices.

While I tend to do my new year ritual at Samhain, this year calls for some special handling, I think. I’ve even saved some firewood for this. I’m gonna get the fire pit going and I’m going to see this thing through to the end.

Here’s to a better year to come, Readers. May it bring with it kindness, compassion and a little cleansing fire.

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the sun will rise

I am, admittedly, a lazy sort of Pagan. I keep an altar and I light candles and burn incense on the holidays and sometimes at other times, but I don’t go all out like I used to when I was newly arrived in pagandom. My daily meditation practice is pretty lax in the best of times, and lets face it, these are not the best of times.

I am generally more into Samhain and Beltane than I am the solstices, but this year at Samhain everything felt suppressed under the weight of world around me, and Yule has dawned with a feeling of hope.

I know that the fight with this virus isn’t over and in fact we are facing some of the worst days to come. The fact that we now have two vaccines being deployed gives me hope that we might win this fight.

I also know that getting a new president and vice president isn’t going to fix the mess we’re in politically or financially (and do not get me started on this $600 congress thinks is a boon), but the upcoming inauguration also gives me hope that we can close this chapter on the American story and get to work rebuilding our nation and our relations with the world.

The world turns, and we with it. The longest night will pass and the sun will rise. I hope that it burns away the vitriol and hatred that has held the hearts of so many hostage and that with the lengthening of the days, the thawing of the earth, and the warmth of the sun, we begin to grow into better versions of ourselves.

Blessings to you, Readers. May you feel the sun on your face and know you are loved.

Cover Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

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the sanctity of samhain

This time of year, as the air begins to cool enough for mornings to need socks and the darkness seems to deepen so that the nights are black and still, a sense of peace starts to settle over me. As I shuffle tarot cards for folks who seek guidance and wisdom or light candles on my Beloved Dead altar, it seems fitting to ask them to visit with me.

I’ve never really been one who wants to share Samhain in a large group. It’s always felt like a solitary holy day, and I find the best way to honor it is alone. For me, Samhain is a time of reflection, a day to look at who I have been in the year since last Samhain, to not only celebrate the positive but to address the things I want to change.

Like planting a tulip bulb so spring will bring a beautiful flower, it is a time to plant the bulbs of intention for my future. I have employed a number of methods to do this in the past, but I think this year may involve actual bulbs in actual dirt.

Much of my Samhain rituals are private, intimate. I hold my time on Samhain as sacred. It is a time to commune with my gods and my ancestors. In these next ten days I draw into myself, disengage from the outside world (as much as is possible in this time of chaos) and prepare myself.

I am also holding space for a family member who will be crossing the veil very soon. May her transition be peaceful and her soul find rest.

On that somber note, Readers, I need to get headed to the day job. The commute gets tough right around the corner of hallway and living room, especially if there is a kitty pile up.

Cover Photo by Elena Mozhvilo on Unsplash

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the veil is thin

There are two times of the year when the veil that separates this plane from the next grows thin, making communication with the dead easier, among other things.  At Samhain we often invite our dead to sup with us, preparing their favorite foods and drink and setting them out on our tables.  Our rituals tend toward the somber at Samhain.

But at Beltane, opposite Samhain on the Wheel of the Year, our rituals are filled with rejoicing, celebrating the awakening of the earth, the growth all around us, and yes, the fertility that will see us through another long winter.

It is a good time to remind us that life will find a way.  Even as the society we built cracks under the strain of this pandemic and all that accompanies it, the earth puts forth sprouts and leaves and flowers.  In the animal kingdom, babies are born, ensuring that their species will continue.  All around us are the signs that if we just hold on through this “winter” life will begin anew.

And maybe, just maybe, we can learn from Mother Earth’s example, and create something new.

We don’t usually stress communicating with the dead at Beltane, but with so many of us channeling life skills that helped our ancestors survive, maybe it’s time we did.  Reach out to great-grandma to get her secrets to a successful sourdough starter (I can not get mine to do what it’s supposed to).  Call out to your great-great grandpa for advice on planting corn or tomatoes or what have you. Invite them to supper or pour out a cup.

Then go stick your hands in some dirt, grow something. You might be surprised at the joy it can give you.

Happy Beltane, Readers, may it bring you blessings and joy.

Cover Photo by Arno Smit on Unsplash

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the earth awakens

Hey there, Readers!  I hope this Easter Sunday finds you well and in good spirits.  I haven’t celebrated Easter in over 20 years, but I have many friends and family who still do.  I have a complicated relationship with Easter, to be honest.

Living alone, as I do, and not having kids around has done a lot to reinforce the “out of sight, out of mind” aspect of what Easter was for me as a kid, then a deeply religious Christian, then an aunt with small nieces.  Once the kids were old enough to not really care about the Easter bunny and all the attendant hoopla, the holiday just sort of faded from prominence for me.

However, this time of year is so full of rebirth and the absolutely amazing way that nature wakes, making food grow out of dirt, decorating our environment with flowers and greenery, and that is certainly something I can celebrate.

This evening, I plan on celebrating in my own way, with a tasty adult beverage, and reading the second chapter of Through Shade and Shadow over on my Facebook author’s page.  If you missed the first chapter, it’s loaded up on my You Tube Channel, and I’ve put it here for your happy viewing.

I will link them all in a playlist to make it easier for y’all to watch in a continuous stream.  If the weather stays nice this evening, I may even move this chapter outdoors.

I’m knee deep in consolidating feedback from my beta readers on The Blood Witch, and once I have it all noted down in my printed out copy, I plan to do a slow read through it to mark up with my own notes/additions, etc, before I bring it back to the computer.

I really love these characters, and I can’t wait until I can share them with all of you, though that might be a while, as I plan to do the “query” fun to maybe find an actual agent to represent me, because as much as I appreciate my current publisher, I am ready to move beyond what they can provide.

In the meantime, I’m sure we can find other stuff to keep you entertained.

Did you know I have an Instagram?   To help relieve my own boredom, I’ve started an impromptu photo project with a Porg named Joe and his good friend, the Child from the Mandalorian.  The hashtag #theadventuresofbabyyodaandporgjoe will take you to their shenanigans, though I missed tagging the first few.  (Yes, I really am that dork).

Okay, on that note, I should get my day going.  My edits are staring at me and my coffee’s gone cold.  I should probably think about eating something too.

I hope you have the best day. Stay safe, stay home and wash your hands!  Love you all!

Cover Photo by Sebastian Staines on Unsplash