The Worst has Passed, but the World is Ending...

Thanks to those of you who have been thinking of my family. I think the worst has passed (knock on wood), but I've been wrong before. Today marks the first of 40 or so treatments in an approximately 10-month-long process. It's going to be a long year.

Have you seen this? So fun. Even as a very small girl, I hoped that I would live to see the end of the world. It's a difficult urge to explain, and I think it has a lot to do with seeing things through. This was particularly troubling for my Grandmother-the-Prophet who had visions of the demise of the Earth, just as any good prophet would. She would tsk at me and say, "you don't know a thing at all. You're too very, very small."

January 3, 2012

I haven't been blogging.

I haven't been sleeping.

I haven't been eating.

This post is not going to be related to witchcraft, so feel free to stop reading now. I also won't be going into detail because the crux of the issue involves one of my children, and I won't put their private life on public display, even on a tiny blog like this.

2011 ended on a very bad note for my family--a very real, life-and-death type of bad note. For now, everyone is fine, with all their appendages in their proper places. I hope that is where it will end, but we're all feeling scared and lost and unsure of what the future holds. Don't worry, help is soon to come (I hope).

This situation has the potential to bind us all closer together or blow our entire family apart. Because it is one of my children that hangs in the balance, I'm feeling particularly vulnerable and, well, a bit like the worst mother in the world. There is a permanent lump in my throat and the weight of a cannonball resting firmly in the pit of my stomach, but I'll be damned if we're going to go down without a fight. I will not be the parent who doesn't see it coming. I won't be the parent who ignores warning signs or pushes it all under the rug because I'm too afraid to face the worst case scenario. It's balls to the wall here, folks.

All that said, do you think it's a bad omen that my own dog bit me on New Year's Eve (my fault, of course)? On New Year's Day I woke up to dog vomit. I went to the grocery store and was halfway through checking out when I realized that I hadn't brought any money. The clerk was very gracious about the whole thing and held my order while I drove home and back. As I was loading the groceries into the trunk, the wind blew the trunk lid shut... on my head. Because of the delay with the groceries and my bleeding head, I ended up driving through an ice storm that stopped the moment I reached my house.

I'm chalking it up to a preoccupied mind. Barring that, I'm hoping that I'm getting all the damnable bad luck out of the way early in 2012. In light of the trouble we face, even my particularly shitty New Year is laughable.

Pray for us, readers. Pray very hard.

Occupy

For those of you who support the Occupy Wall Street movement but cannot be on the front lines of the protests, here is a quick, easily implementable suggestion for how you can help from the comfort of your own home. The best part is that it hit the banks where it counts--the bottom line! Please help and show your support if you can.



Also, there have been some really brilliant herbalists and healers putting together information for those who would like to help the protestors at the Occupy Herbalism facebook page.

I am the 99%!

I Am...

Pondering:

"...Long before man appeared on earth he existed as a dream of prophecy in the animal soul..." ~Edwin Muir

Dreaming:

A series of dreams in which I flip light switches on only to have the darkness grow blacker.

Crafting:

Clay evil eye talismans to hang over my door and the doors of friends.

Learning:

That the breadcrumbs leading me this primal/paleo diet (and, more and more, lifestyle) were sprinkled in places I never consciously looked for them before.

Needing:

A serious house cleansing/blessing/uncrossing... and money.

Letting go of:

The fact that our roof--for which we signed a contract in MAY--will not actually even be started until, well, probably next May.

A Missed Opportunity for Corrupting the Youth and How the Gods Reward Such

Our dear, beloved, ever so obedient pup (almost 7 months old now!) chewed through some of the wiring to our exterior A/C unit (thank goodness we haven't used it in some weeks now). The repairman came today to lecture me for an hour about getting a fence erected (tee-hee!) around the unit and to give me an estimate for the repairs ($164, FYI). While I was trying to reach my husband at work to make sure that we had the budget to go ahead with the repairs, the kids came outside to tell me that there were more men at the door. I opened the door to...

Two rosy-cheeked, clean-shaven youths in matching white button-down shirts and black pants, nametags labeling them "Brother ______". I could be wrong, but I think most people (Christians, pagans, etc. included) have a standard response for this sort of thing, a line that you whip out to make the encounter as quick and painless as possible. Mine is: "I really respect the work that you're doing to spread the word of your god, but I'm a pagan. Thanks, but no thanks."

I swear they stopped breathing. They were dead still for about five seconds. I've used this at least a dozen times on Jehovah's Witnesses, and they usually just avert their eyes and go on their merry way. These Mormon boys, however, were a different story. One of them, in his sweet, southern drawl, said (and I quote): "Oh really? What do you believe in? I've never met a real, live pagan before!" That's when the A/C repairman started calling for me to help him. Damn. Opportunity missed. The boy was so excited that he actually asked if he could wait on my porch until the repairs were over so that we could talk. It nearly broke my heart to tell him no.

The upshot was that the repairman decided not to charge me anything but the $69 fee to have someone come out in the first place. Shhhh! Don't tell his boss. I'm pretty sure that I've lost my pretty, young girl appeal, so what else could it be except a gift from my gods? ;)

A Year of Babies

I was only half serious when I said before that babies and young (and insects) seem to be my niche. It's remained a pattern this summer though. Last week my youngest daughter was stung by a honey bee who had expired quite some time before my daugher (aptly nicknamed "Bee") ever touched her. But that's a story for another time. Today I performed the funerary rites and burial service of a sweet little baby boy squirrel who I'd found in my path on our morning pilgrimage/nature walk. I didn't see him on the way to our destination, but there he was, plain as day, on our way back. We sent him on his way with thirteen black walnuts, water, and a lullabye-- "Rock-a-bye Baby". He had curled all ouroboros-style in the ochre red terracotta dish that held his body during the rites. The girls picked some flowers from the waning garden to mark his grave where it rests among the web of roots that spreads beneath Mother Maple.

And lest you think my silence on this blog has meant an idle summer for me and mine, I'll leave you with this:



Yes, that's my poor, broken garden trowel.

Epiphyte or Parasite?

It grows in the crotch of another species of tree, conifer cradled in deciduous. Both live and seem no worse for wear as of yet. More remarkable yet is that conifers of any sort are scarce around here in a landscape dominated by maples and beech. It seems to me that the most likely scenario is that a bird or squirrel or other beastie carried this seed from the cemetery not so far away. Perhaps it is wishful thinking on my part. Does it make this sapling any less magical?