The Rowdy Goddess

Return of the Rowdy Goddess

2013-01-22T09:54:00.000-05:00

I haven't done a blog post for 18 months. It's not that I don't have anything to say, but perhaps I have too much to say. Or something. I'm a librarian and as one, I like to categorize, organize and generally create a coherent way of conveying information and thought. That's what stops me. I have so many interest: Wicca; embroidery; quilting; dogs; Goddessy stuff; books; shamanic practice; reading; libraries; Tarot; divination; writing; and whatever else captures my grasshopper mind-- a mind that hops from one thing to another and back again.

I want to write about life and creativity and whatever else comes to mind! But how to organize it and make it coherent. That stalls me. So today, as ideas crowd through my head, I decided. What is the Rowdy Goddess after all but an amalgem of all that things that make us goddess and make us rowdy? So I've decided to toss it all in the cauldron and see what bubbles up and catches other people's attention. Some of it will bore you and some of it will interest you. Rest assured that it will be rowdy.

This blog will move to Rowdy Goddess on Wordpress

The Enlightenment of Lists

2011-06-08T08:23:00.004-04:00

This delightful picture is two pages from a children's book, Frog and Toad Together, one of a series of Frog and Toad books by Arnold Loebel. One of my coworkers, back when I worked as a librarian at a community college, had a photocopy of these two pages posted on the column above her typewriter. It was waaaay back in the day before the ubiquity of desktop computing, if you can imagine or remember such a time.

When I read it for the first time, I laughed. It was one of those crystallizing moments for me as a young adult. I realized my compulsion to make lists was not unique and I was not alone! And it was okay to make lists!

I make lists. People who don't make lists find it perplexing and odd; and sometimes people find it tyrannical or micromanaging. For me, though, it helps organize my thoughts and my plans. A list gives me a clear trajectory for a period of time. I have found that lists can be magical, a spell to aid me in my day, my work, or just my thoughts.

In the past I have been a great worrier. I'd fret and worry about things that eventually never came to pass. Worry was robbing me of my present as I continually fretted over the future. Lists are one technique to dispel worry, at least for me. If I put it down on a list, it becomes concrete and I can handle it at a specified time...sometimes 'when I get around to it.' Somehow writing it down on a list makes it something I can handle and put out of my present mind. It's amazing how creative you can become when you are not preoccupied with worry.

A lot of times, I don't look at the list because I think I remember everything. And then I will discover an old list and I've done most of it anyway...or I haven't and it didn't matter. Then I can cross it off my list.

Crossing things off the list is a great act of magic, empowerment, and accomplishment. Even some minutiae is 'list worthy' just so you can cross it off. That's part of the reason I have found the picture above so funny. I understand so completely the feeling of accomplishment in crossing off the routine, the small, and the large milestones in our lives. It is a tiny commemoration of a moment.

May your day be free from worry and full of commemorations and accomplishments, large and small!

Majors Monday: The Magician

2011-05-23T15:02:00.009-04:00

I am continuing to look at the majors for inspiration and for designing spreads. My desire is to make spreads as simple and clear as possible. Sometimes I feel that a lot of cards confuses the querent and the reader. Readers know the cards better and can probably absorb a lot of information, but sometimes the querent will shut down before they hear all the cards read because there's just too much information.

The Magician is good at sorting out information and presenting it in a coherent and cohesive format. It's not that he or she is simplistic in the power of thought, it's just that the Magician can develop focus.

The arm pointed above and the arm pointed below indicates a firm grounding in earthly matters while understanding there is a celestial connection to things. He becomes a channel or conduit. Shamanic teaching tells us below or underworld is the source of information for earthly, bodily, and health matters while the above teaches us the wisdom of teachers and celestial energies. Neither above nor below is better than the other.

It can sometimes be a heady experiences to channel all that information and arrogance in his own opinion can be a danger for the magician. He has the tools on the table before him and he can use them anyway he chooses. The infinity symbol above his head helps him keep things in the perspective that he is a finite being working with huge infinite energies.

In shamanic thinking, the shaman is one who journeys between the worlds to gain wisdom and power to benefit the community; it is an act of service. A sorcerer may do the same journeywork and discover the same power and wisdom. The difference is the sorcerer uses that information in service only to himself or herself. The sorcerer's hands are not connected to above and below in the stance of the magician, but rather directs it into his/her own being.

With this anchoring and the greater perspective, he can use his tools to gain wisdom and power to benefit himself in the service of others.

Wisdom and Knowledge
Use this spread to understand the purpose behind the querent's quests and questions and to determine a future plan

Card One: Your view of the infinite, the long view, long-term idea

Card Two: Where your head is at, what your thinking, imagining, or dreaming

Card Three: Information from the infinite, your teachers, or celestial wisdom

Card Four: Information from the underworld about body, health, earthly matters

Card Five: What are you channeling, accessing; are there blockages?

Card Six, Seven, Eight and Nine can be read together as the tools you have access to; or seperately as Cups, Pentacles, Swords, and Wands.

Let me know how this works for you since it's brand new!

May the wisdom of all your teachers from all the worlds be clear and delightful to you.

The Wisdom of the Dumpter, or, See What Happens When You Take Out the Garbage

2011-05-21T13:29:00.005-04:00

Several--more than ten-- years ago, I was in a difficult and intense relationship that was ending badly. Actually, the fact that it was not ending was really the problem. I have on occasion referred to this man as "my stalker," since he would not go away. He suddenly died while he was on vacation in another state. Then I was pitched into a whirlpool of emotions, confusion, and adjustments. It was complicated by many factors.

I learned many things: the value of shock; my own strength; the kindness of strangers; the harshness of others; and how to be a deep feeling human being. It took a while to emerge from those emotions.

Then one day, I realized that I had integrated those feelings, emotions, and knowledge. I was whole again. Hearts knit back together with awesome strength and beauty. I realized that I had given away much of his stuff, burned some, and kept some. That night was the night to take the garbage out, so I got out a bag and gathered up anything that still did not belong to this whole me. I took it out to the curb and it was hauled away. It was an act of power and it was a spell.

Just because I was heart-whole didn't mean I was seeking relationships. I've always been a little laggard in that area. A couple of new men had come into our circle and while there was a lot of interest in them around me, I didn't really consider dating a situation that applied to me. At a gathering, a friend returned a deck of Tarot to me. Since there was a lull in the activities, I did a card reading for myself. The possible outcome was Ace of Cups. I rolled my eyes.

It was clear shortly afterwards that one man was very interesting and was interested in me. We did connect and that man is now my husband. A fabulous, passionate, fun love story then and now. When I tell the story of how we met, I often follow it with "See what happens when you take out the garbage."

Our stuff is a potent teacher. George Carlin has a classic stand-up routine.
This routine has a lot of wisdom, at least to me. I have a lot of stuff. I inherited a lot, bought stuff, and was gifted stuff. I spent a lot of money and time acquiring stuff. I spend a lot of time moving stuff, organizing stuff, and (not) using stuff. Lately though, I've felt I've got too much. I don't want to move it and I'd rather spend my time doing other things.

In November, my husband and I had a lot of words about stuff. While it was a little impassioned, we came out with a constructive solution. We rented a dumpster. It was a wonderful, miraculous thing to happen. We cleared out a lot of broken things, a lot of things not used, and things that no longer served us. It was difficult. I had to make up some rules. A friend came over to help and before she came in the door, I told her THE RULE: you are not allowed to ask me if I'm sure I want to get rid of this. If it's ready to go, I'm done. If I rethink my decision, it will go back in the house. That one rule was simple, effective and quite a blessing.

I also donated a lot of books to the local Friends of the Library, to a local sewing recycling place, and to the Salvation Army. Blessed be them!

I still have a lot of stuff. I'm still passing along clothes, books, and other things. It's easier now that I've been initiated into the wisdom of the dumpster. I feel like I have more space to expand, more time, and can relax more. I've had a corollary story about stuff, throwing out and dumpsters at my job. Obviously, the Universe believes this is one lesson that keeps on teaching! Ordinary things can teach us so much.

May all your lessons be gentle, ordinary, and deep!

The Path to the Rowdy Goddess

2011-05-16T19:40:00.005-04:00

I am just back from spending the weekend with my friends, the Rowdy Goddesses. There were 13 of us on Friday the 13th and the number of the place we were staying was 113. It was meant to be transformative. I've known these women for many years and have been reading Tarot for the each time we get together. In that time I have seen incredible changes, deepening roots, life challenges, tears, and loud, loud laughter. Our journeys are an incredible gift.

So I thought I would take the opportunity to share our story and our charge, something I wrote a few years ago. I had always intended it to be a book on the Rowdy Goddess but it has not yet become that. It is a story that must be told!

The illustration is by my sister, Carol Reid, another rowdy woman from another part of my life.

THE PATH TO THE ROWDY GODDESS

Here now the words of the Rowdy Goddess:
I who am called Baubo, Artemis, Iambe, Lillith, Flora, Aphrodite
And by many other names

The story of my journey begins where so many stories begin, in early childhood. My grandparents had a part collie dog named Rowdy. I used to sit on the steps of their farmhouse and call, “Here Rowdy, Rowdy, Rowdy!” He would come running, tail wagging, happy and affectionate. Many years later, my mother told me that he had disappeared for several months and reappeared one day, tired and dirty. The family had always thought that he had been stolen and made his way back home to the family that loved him. That story always thrilled me and inspired me because of his determination and love. Even now, Rowdy comes to me from the land of spirit in my meditations and dreams.

Much of my childhood was devoted to seeking magic; the magic of learning, the magic of Spirit, the magic of books, the magic of the ocean, the magic of friendship and the magic of love. Magic was not always easy to see but I was convinced it was there. I was determined to find it and I always assumed that it was in the world of Spirit, in religion. When I was nineteen, still seeking magic, I became a fundamental Christian and joined a Christian group on my college campus. At first the experience I embraced was magical and spiritual but soon the magic got lost in the rules and subliminal messages about sin, womanhood, power and femininity.

The group was closed and close. The young women of the group were called “gals,” and the young men were called “guys.” You did not become women or men until you got married. This was a world of sanctified behavior had strict boundaries. On one side, the boundaries were chastity and guilt and on the other fear and loss. We had to cross those boundaries to go to school, to work and to our families, but we were always cautioned to remain focused on our spiritual purity.

Gals were supposed to be obedient, demure, submissive and chaste. There was no dating in this group and the gals and guys were segregated into groups; teams that met together in strict controlled ways. The gals studied how to be good Christian women and femininity was highly prized, being bound up in the conflicting messages of “be attractive,” and “be pure so as not to distract the guys from service to the Lord.” Femininity became associated with control and conflict.
The natural optimism and humor that is part of my nature kept bubbling through the control and the emotionally laden tests of obedience. I laughed, joked and questioned. Because of this ebullience, I was nicknamed “The Rowdy Gal,” and it was not a compliment. My attempts to question and to lighten the atmosphere with humor were regarded as disruptive, subversive and disorderly. Attempts to leaven unhappy and difficult situations with humor were rebuked and various social punishments were exacted. During those five years my role, my person and my personality was criticized and tested. In those tests I was found lacking, because I behaved inappropriately as a gal and a Christian. Eventually I was ostracized and through a mutual unstated agreement. I became a non-Christian as we called everyone outside of our group; no matter that I still had some faith. Even then, with many psychic wounds and bruises, I still longed to be spiritual and find magic.

Eventually, I found the Goddess and embraced the magic of the Universe through the Goddess and through witchcraft. In the course of the time since, I have learned that I can look at the Universe and see the Goddess. I can take a deep breath and know that “I am Goddess.”
For many years, I have attended a wonderful women’s spiritual retreat called Womongathering. It is a loving and beautiful four days in the mountains of Pennsylvania. I met my dear friend Joyce there and we began asking to be assigned cabins together. Each time, we would be asked to quiet down. We were too noisy. Other friends joined us, RoseLee, Sharon, Kim and Susan. We asked, each year, to be housed together, informing them that we were noisy. Usually someone in the adjoining space would tell us to hush, the most outrageous when we were having a normal toned discussion in the middle of the afternoon. We were tired of being shushed. I told them my Rowdy gal story and said that since we were Goddesses, we should call ourselves The Rowdy Goddesses. And we did.

Then one year, it changed dramatically. I pulled up to unload my car and I could hear loud laughter and talking coming from one of the cabins. As I walked towards the assigned cabin a woman stopped me and said consolingly, “I think you are in the noisy cabin.” I smiled and as I came into the cabin I found that Maire, Vicki and Erin had joined us and they were, joyfully, full of exuberance and noise. In other years, we were joined by more until our ranks swelled and we asked for a larger cabin. We were, as we discovered, rowdy and proud. We warned people that we were loud and they needed to get used to it. We joyfully embrace our highs and lows, our sorrows and our loves; we are complete and seeking to be full of Spirit.

Over the years, we have met together every June for four days. You would think that we’d only have time for the shallowest interactions; instead we share our deepest secrets and intimate lives. We laugh uproariously, we yell and scream our anger, and we cry about our deepest sorrows and disclose our greatest fears. In so many ways, we are the best of what a coven does; we support each other, care for one another, challenge each other; all connected through our love for each other and for the Goddess. We’ve created our own rowdy spiritual community within a lovely community-oriented women’s festival festival. The energy of the Goddess infuses our tears, hugs, screams, and laughter. We are boisterous in our joy and in our sorrow. We are the Rowdy Goddesses.

Goddess energy is rowdy energy. The rowdy goddess energy disrupts and makes us creates new patterns that free us to be ourselves, holy and whole. The stories tell us to be as She is, proud, independent, funny and bold. Depending on your source, it was either Baubo or Iambe disrupted Demeter’s terrible grief at losing Persephone. Iambe lifted her skirts and told a bawdy joke that made the grieving mother smile. Baubo is the orgasmic goddess who unashamedly celebrates her body and her sex. Baubo is credited with creating the belly laugh, the laugh that begins deep inside and bursts forth with no embarrassment. Lillith was demonized for refusing to submit and refusing to be overpowered. Artemis made her own rules and followed her own path of the moon. Flora was the Roman goddess of sexuality for the sake of its own wonder. She was the patroness of sexuality with no purpose other than lusty enjoyment. Aphrodite celebrated love and sexuality with delight and pleasure.

This rowdy energy is strong, irrepressible, powerful, and exuberant. The energy of the Goddess bubbles up inside us, unrestricted, unbounded by guilt, embarrassment or shame. We are disorderly when we question the boundaries that restrict us and then move beyond our borders into freedom. We are disruptive and wild when we say, “I am Goddess” and believe it and live it..
In our wild rowdy energy, we our find femininity and womanliness by looking at the aspects of the Goddess that reaches out and speaks to us. We see her in the many phases of the moon. She grows from dark to light to dark again in enormous variety and diversity. She reaches out to the Goddess inside us and holds us in her embrace. She inspires us and she moves us. We sit on the steps of our lives and call, “here Rowdy, Rowdy, Rowdy.” We are answered with love, affection, joy and unbounded enthusiasm. The Rowdy Goddess is each of us as we lift our skirts. The Rowdy Goddess is each of us as we laugh from deep in our soul.

Hear now the words of the Rowdy Goddess.
I who am called Baubo, Lillith, Flora, Aphrodite, Iambe, Joyce, Susan, Sharon, Kim, Erin, Diana, Queen Maire, Gail, RoseLee, Karen, Chris, Molly, Bonnie,
Christel, Patty, Naomi Captain Medusa
And many other names.

I am the laughter of your soul,
Beginning deep in the belly and coming loudly from your mouth.
I am the song of your life,
Sung boldly and proud.
I am the dance of your heart and the passion of your body,
Willing and free.
I am every breath you take and every sound you make.
My voice is heard in a giggle, in a soft laugh,
In a lovely song, in a guffaw,
In a keening cry and in a bawdy ballad.
I am ecstasy and delight.

Lift your skirts and dance with me
For I am the passion that moves you through the world.
Lift your voice and sing with me
For I am the excitement of life lived out loud.
Lift your hearts and love with me
For I am hope everlasting.

Let my worship be in your voice and in your body,
For behold all acts of exuberance and creativity are done in reverence to me.
Let there be enthusiasm and joy, passion and love,
Fearlessness and foolishness, exuberance and mirth,
Grief and healing, and laughter and bliss.

Swirl and dance, sing and chant.
I am the Rowdy Goddess
I am the Rowdy Goddess.

May you find the divine rowdy goddess deep within your soul and may you find ways to express your divine rowdiness, loud and proud. B*B

Holey, Wholly, Holy

2011-05-10T09:56:00.003-04:00

When I was in the seventh grade, I shot up seven inches from five-foot-nothing to five-foot seven. It took me years to grow out of my awkward phase. I believe I'm still in my clumsy phase. At that time, this awkward, coltish teenager was going to Sunday School at a largish Southern Baptist Church; we were new to the area and newcomers at the church. Everyone was very nice to the kids, though years later my parents told different stories. One bright sunny day, I overheard my Sunday School teacher talking about another girl in my class about what a wonderful girl she was. Apparently while her parents were away, she had kept the house clean and made sure that when her parents returned, they came home to a house full of fresh flowers.

I looked over at her on that sunny Sunday, as she sat gracefully in her pretty yellow dress with a hat covered in daisies on her head and envied her perfection. I was tugging at my homemade dress as I crossed my ungainly long legs. I didn't have a hat...if I did, I wouldn't be able to keep it perfectly atop my head. This girl was like an unattainable ideal of perfection. Neat, pretty, contained, and poised and very definitely not me.

I, on the other hand, was clumsy, sloppy, and unformed. I didn't have any idea how a kid like me could fill a house with fresh flowers. How do you do that? We had a vegetable garden and dandelions galore, but fresh flowers?

I didn't envy her, I was just regarded her with a sense of wonder. I knew I could never be like her so I didn't set her as a standard. After all, she had one older brother, I have three younger ones. She didn't have a sister and I do. Her mother didn't work and mine did. Her family didn't seem to have money problems and mine definitely did. There was really no similarity between us. I think what had me bemused is what the church ladies set up as an ideal of a nice young woman-to-be. I didn't talk to her because what would we have in common and what would I say to such a perfection?

Many many years later I took this delightful workshop from a woman named Jenny, Mary, or some such name. She was delightful--fun, funny, and flawed. It was a great experience and I gained a great deal of insight from it. A few years later, attending the same retreat, I ran into her again. She had changed her name to some magical name like Morgan, Brigit, or something. She dressed in flowing robes and never cracked a smile. She spoke in hushed wise tones. Where was that delightful flawed woman I met before? "Oh," I thought, "She got holy." Of course, behind the scenes there were rumors of dissension in her circle and of behaviors that belied that holiness, leaving me to think her inauthentic to herself and to others.

A lot of times in spiritual circles as people gain more wisdom and insight, they believe that they must never show their flaws, their struggles or their problems. Somehow as spiritual leaders they must show only perfection. Sometimes their vision of what perfection is makes them seem inhuman.

I've never been able to achieve that level of holiness; I simply cannot maintain it. Spirit seems to demand that I live my life out loud, confronting me with issues in circle and in public, sometimes embarrassing ways. One of my circle sisters wrote me and thanked me for being her teacher, stating that what she liked best about me was that I was wholly human with bad moods and good. I treasure that comment while at the same time saying to myself, "thank you, I think." It is true that I'm as honest about my struggles as I am about my accomplishments. In this way I do think I'm am wholly myself.

We are all divine creatures, with the spark of the goddess and the god within us. By living authentically, we keep our flames burning bright. I think about that girl in the daisy hat from long ago. I think her poise and composure were innate and she was finding ways to live authentically just as I was living my sloppy, awkward self. I think in order to be holy, we do need to live wholly ourselves. Our lives are the journey to wholeness and integration. Our lives are made up of accomplishments, of tatters and failures, of tepid responses, and of bright shining moments. This amalgam of success and failure blends together to create our divine wholeness. You cannot have one without the other. If you deny one, then the other will cast big shadows in your life. You may think you are fooling people, but the only person fooled is you. I have found that the Goddess is very demanding. She demands the level of holiness She shows to us. With all it's dichotomy, contradiction, pain, joy and exuberance. She demands wholeness, a recognition of the holes as well as the full spaces. In this way, we can say, authentically, "I am Goddess, I am God."

May you live your life out loud, joyfully dancing your holey, holy wholeness!

Majors Monday: The Fool in Springtime

2011-05-09T14:33:00.006-04:00

I have been back from the Readers Studio 2011 for a week and I'm still absorbing all the wonderful things I learned and the experiences I've had hanging out with the Tarot Tribe. From that journey into the lands of Tarot delights and visions, I have resolved to focus my attention and be active in my Tarot journey. Towards that focus, I'm combining my Dark Moon Tarot blog with my Rowdy Goddess blog. After all, isn't Tarot the essence of rowdiness?

One of the speakers, Caitlin Matthews, talked about Tarot readers, energy workers and others in the fields of esoterica as inhabiting the fringes and edges of society. It's at these borders where the the boundaries are pushed, questions are asked, and critique occurs. It is where we go when we feel like an outlander in our own homes or mainstream society.

It is into these borderlands that the Fool travels, seeking whatever it is he is seeking, far away from the domesticated lands of civilization. It is often said that the Fool is seeking a fresh perspective, or is he looking for a wild world where questions are asked and the standard answers no longer apply? He finds that the questions are alive and evolving in that wilderness. This is where civilization has unraveled to reveal a more raggedy edge. It is an opportunity to look at life with fresh eyes and decide if reweaving is what is sought or if something else needs to happen.

Barbara Moore taught us to look at each card with a fresh eye, to see the questions in the cards and then to see the patterning of questions as tarot spreads; spreads that will help us understand patterns. As the images and the questions dance together, a pattern emerges as a spread. Barbara also encouraged us to place the cards asymmetrically, to offset some cards and to place the cards at angles to each other. The very act of asymmetry compels us to view patterns through different lenses. Sometimes our lives become so circumscribed or hemmed in by our answers, we don't see there are new ways to pose the questions, or even that there are other questions to be asked. Sometimes new questions emerge as we place things in different relationships to one another. The same is true for readers, spreads, questions, and querents.

As a Tarot reader, librarian and spiritual seeker, I have learned that living the question is the prize. Just as the power of the journey is in the journey itself (thank you to Ursula K. LeGuin's masterpiece The Left Hand of Darkness) so is the question itself the journey.

The Fool in Springtime Spread

As I look at the Rider-Waite-Smith image, my attention is attracted to the pack. What is in there and what needs to be unpacked? Is it too heavy? Then I turn my attention to the pole. Is it strong enough? Does it hurt the Fool? Does it help or hinder? And of course the dog. I always notice dogs! Is the dog herding him, following him or is the dog a boon companion? Then the cliff and then the rose bring more questions. Five images turn into five positions in the spread.

Five is a good number for a reading because it shows the chaos of change and of questioning the status quo. Fives don't often provide "the final answer" but can provide some additional guidance or, at the very least, more information. The spread is simple, deceptively so, since the questions beget more questions. The cards can provide more insight.

Some of my students like guides for when to use certain spreads. This one is good for people seeking more information at the start of a new journey, project, or if they are thinking they need a change. And it's good for people in the midst of chaos to help them find a focus.

The Fool In Springtime Spread, May 2011

Card One: The Pack

What do I have packed for my journey?

Card Two: The Pole

What enables me to carry my burdens/gifts?

Card Three: The Cliff

What threshold am I approaching?

Card Four: The Dog

What aids me or is nipping at my heels?

Card Five: The Rose

What beauty is unfolding for me?

This thread is brand new and I have read much with it. I'd be very interested in your feedback and experiences.

May your journey to the outer edges be filled with questions, magic, beauty and delight!

Are You Blogging About Me?

2010-05-11T13:29:00.002-04:00

I've been busy. Last September I got married in a wonderful ceremony attended by friends and family. Even those who could not attend marked the occasion in special ways. It was wonderful. Mouse and I have been together for eight years now and formalizing our commitment has marked stronger relationship.

In January, Mouse had a mild stroke. Mostly it's been okay but for about two months, life was focused and intent on surgeries and long term recovery. He's doing fine with very few limitations and renewed interest in paying attention to diet and exercise. It's all good. It's actually a relief that both of us can say this out loud without feeling awful about it. It is what it is.

I'll write about our new dogs later.

At one point when he was feeling low and I guess I was spending time on the computer/Facebook, he asked me "Are you blogging about me?" It was in a melancholy voice that said in subtext, I'm causing you so much trouble... are you writing about it. I told him that I never write about anything that is private between us. First and foremost, I handle the issues between us as between us. I don't tell the world first. So as Mouse and I journey together through these changes, I'll be talking to him rather than blog-verse.

Both of us are private people even if I am a writer and have become much more gregarious as I gotten older. Some issues stay private. The discernment between sharing lessons learned and honoring privacy is an ongoing lesson as well as a commitment made to others. It is a process of growth in understanding as well.

As a witch and priestess, I took vows not to reveal the names and addresses of those in my group, circle, or coven. This hearkens back to the custom of the old ways where it was very dangerous to be known as a witch. Even in this day and age, depending on where you work, live, and play it could be dangerous. Not just physically but also emotionally and economically. Each individual should be able to make the individual choice to reveal their spiritual practices to others.

Speaking as one whose spiritual path has been revealed by others a number of times, it can have an effect on professional effectiveness and even how the neighbors treat you and your kids. It pays to be smart.

I've learned about this spirit of anonymity from my life as a priestess, but the most compelling lessons are from my friends in 12 step programs such as A.A. and N.A. Anonymity is extremely important in these programs because each person's journey with sobriety is individual and by daily/hourly choice. The immerse themselves in like minded community for solace, encouragement, and sometimes an anchor or lifeline. For those not in that community, we can't know their journey at all. To have be revealed means exposure and judgment in some edgy, private, and tenuous situations.

It's funny sometimes because I'll realize that I am in the middle of these overlapping communities. Sometimes it's not possible for my friends to explain how they know each other without revealing either AA affiliations or pagan affiliations. So we just forgo the question to honor the anonymity.

I have found that ask of keeping the question to myself to be profoundly transforming. For a curious person, that's an act of power and honoring. For myself and the vows I've taken, and for the other person and where they are in their journeys. There are other times when questions must be asked to honor their journey. This is not one of them.

Giving Voice to Our Souls

2009-11-18T14:32:00.006-05:00

Sing through my Voice

Play through my Hands

Let the way be Open.

---- Abbi Springer McBride

It began with banter and repartee between two student working in the cafe in my building at work. "Nobody likes the sound of your voice," she said, "so you should just not use it." We laughed uproariously as the young man responded and the two of them continued their playfully hostile banter.

I posted this in my status on Facebook as "overheard in the library." It shows why context is so important. A couple of people reacted to the hostility and not the humor of the remark. O one person said that when she was a child that her singing was an offense to God and she should stop singing aloud, and she carried that remark and prohibition forward to adulthood. My jaw dropped and my angry fingers typed.

From my Baptist background, my reaction was a very sarcastic "nice witness," and currently would have added a well placed expletive as well.

It reminded me that I have my own journey with that kind of silencing. When I was younger, I sang all the time and was in the school choir. My voice was relatively untrained but I still sang all the time and sang along with the radio, albums, and the television. I sang myself to sleep, I sang in the shower, I sang in the car...everyplace was a good place for song. Some where in the midst of a couple of difficult relationships, I silenced myself.

When I moved to rural New York, I got sick a lot. It was part allergies and part stress related colds and flu. I coughed a lot, sometimes for months on end. All of this roughened my voice and made it crack. Still I sang--coughed and sang. One evening, I was sitting at a table of amateur singers who said they'd like to form a choir of singers to sing pagan chants and songs at our gatherings. "I'd like to be a part of that," I said. The deafening silence as all the women looked at each other told me all I needed to know: they don't think I'm good or good enough. I shut up about that.

At the same time, I was in a relationship with a man who didn't like a lot of distractions including noise. He'd turn down the television or the stereo. He didn't even like the sound of the refrigerator, washing machine, or dryer running. He didn't like hair dryers. My life became quieter. And then too, the radio in my car stopped working so I couldn't play music and sing along. I couldn't afford to get it fixed for a long time and then when I did, it stopped working immediately.

The good news was that I became very comfortable with silence and didn't need extraneous sounds and noises to distract me or entertain me. The bad news was that I forgot how to sing and learned that I was a bad singer. I became embarrassed by my singing voice. I forgot the words to songs and I forgot to sing.

As time moved on, so did the friends and relationships; what remained was the silence and the silencing. My practice as a witch and shamanic practitioner deepened and I became a High Priestess and leader in my community. I was reading a well respected teacher on an email list who said that shamans and shamanic practitioners "gave voice" to their magic. With their voices, raised in song, they led their communities and themselves to greater healing and soul discovery.

That challenged me to confront the silencing. I re-retrieved my power song and began to sing again. Over the past few years, I've actively practiced 'giving voice' to the songs within. Our group sings alot and we have some wonderful Enchantresses in our midst. They help me to have the courage to remember and to give voice. My voice has gotten stronger and my memory has gotten better. It's all in process and it's all beautiful.

One person who responded to the Facebook thread says she makes a joyful noise using the voice the Creator gave her. And as another one said, if they don't want to hear it, they don't have to listen!

One of the things I've learned from this silencing and self-censorship, is that you don't have to stay silent. We are resonant beings and can give voice to our power and our songs. Music fills our souls and its energy wants to go out into the world. Our histories and our culture often tries to inhibit that energy, so it takes courage to give voice. Once you do give voice to your soul and your heart, you find out how much freedom you have. The gods wish us to sing every note so may you find your voice and give it to the world, loud and proud!

Bob the Dog

2009-11-09T12:09:00.005-05:00

I've written a lot about my dogs over the years, here in this blog and in my books. Now they've both passed into the Summerlands and it feels funny to write things without them.

This is a tribute to Bob the Dog, pictured here at age 13, peacefully dreaming. He lived another year. Bob was a very enthusiastic and loving dog, embodying what I often called "Joie de Bobbie," since he loved life.
I also called him the High Hopes Dog and often hummed the high hopes song. One time, the man who co-owned the dogs with me took them out running. On their way home, they met one of my neighbors who was carrying the deer he had gotten. The neighbor put the deer down and started chatting. Then he started laughing. Both men turned around and saw Bob trying to tug the deer carcass away! Always hopeful, nothing was too large for Bob to overcome.

Bob was also very into the energy of the pagan circle. Several times, he made his way into the circle. Once when the sacred masculine energy was invoked, Bob came into circle, plopped himself in the middle and started liking his private parts. That cracked us up and was so fitting to the ritual. Once he came into the center as the priestess was leading the circle in a meditation on the birth of the Sun King. "You are my Sun King" is another one of his theme songs.

Even at his most feeble and tired, Bob greeted us with a wagging tale and a bright eye. Mike and I were both with him when he passed. It was the day after our wedding and we were talking and he was in the center of our circle when we realized that he was passing. I stroked him as he struggled with his last breaths. Finally his poor old heart gave out and he exhaled. I could feel his spirit romp to the next life, with wagging tale and supple body. He's still here in my heart. I miss him very much and he graced my life with many stories and a lot of joy.

His death was smelly and messy and Mike and I were there to take care of it. Since he died at home, we decided to take his remains for cremation the next day. As we were driving, I rolled down the window telling Mike the smell was overpowering. Then we both laughed. Bob had a way of keeping us intensely present and engaged in all of his actions, basic and sublime.

He runs with the Goddess, Lady Artemis who protected him and loved him all his life. I am grateful to Her for all the critter blessings.
Bob the Dog 1995-2009 was a wonderful companion, pal, and guy.
Fare-thee-well till we meet again.

Ya Did It Right the First Time!

2009-10-26T14:14:00.004-04:00

I like to think that I'm not a perfectionist but I do like to be thorough and meet certain standards set by me. That does mean that I like to research and do things thoroughly in the matters of spiritual learning. Sometimes living la vida Wicca, or living in the moment, presents you with different circumstances.

At our tradition's annual retreat, we had the wonderful teacher, Christopher Penczak shared his knowledge with us. In the course of his teaching and not particularly central to the theme, he commented that Hekate held the keys to the gateway to journeying between the worlds. Her crossroads are pathways to many dimensions and realities. During one of the meditations, Hekate came to me and gave me a key, saying that I would know what it was for when the time came.

It was striking and kind of tangential to the weekend and I set an intention to do some journeywork on this subject and to talk with Hekate. Somehow, I didn't get around to it, though the intention remained. I thought I had plenty of time.

At the time, we were living with two very elderly and very dear dogs in declining health as well as planning our wedding for the end of September. I've written a lot about Congo and Bob and they are important and special; they've always lived their lives dedicated into the care of Lady Artemis. During the Labor Day weekend, Congo had an alarming episode and her decline became sharp. By Tuesday, she had stopped eating and drinking. We took her to the vet and he outlined her options. For a 15 year old dog, terrified of vets, these options weren't happy ones. Mike and I talked over these options and decided to bid her fare-thee-well.

As we talked it over with her, I talked to her about the care by Lady Artemis (whom I thank most gratefully for these long lived dogs), Hekate whispered in my ear, "I will take your little black dog for as she is special to you, she is special to me." And so in the hands of a compassionate vet and vet tech, Mike and I held her and petted her as Congo slowly faded from this plane of existence.

As I was driving home, I realized that I knew what the key was for. Under the beautiful blue skies of central NY, I opened the gateway and watched her wag her tail and run gracefully into the arms of Hekate. Congo, glorious and beautifully fit, runs with Hekate. Blessed be my girly-girl and fare-thee-well till we meet again.

And yes, the lesson is that we get the tools and we use them. There is no reset button, no do-over, and no chance to learn it deeper or better because 'ya did it right the first [and only] time.

Sisterhood of the Stained Shirts

2009-08-31T10:27:00.004-04:00

I'm ready, I think, for the Stained Shirt Hall of Fame.

Throughout my life, I've been one or more of the following: round, chubby, firm, firmly packed, "you've got such a pretty face," fat, obese, morbidly obese, pleasingly plump, zaftig, overweight, and heavy. Struggling with the weight, criticism, and judgment is one of those life lessons; a lesson that no matter how much you learn and change, it has more to teach you.

One of the things that was always extremely and even painfully embarrassing to me was that I spilled stuff and got stains on my shirts. I'm buxom enough that my shirt is a net of safety so spilled food and drink never has to touch the ground! I was also brought up to understand that overweight/heavy/plump/fat people had to make an extra effort to be neat and clean in their appearance, otherwise they'd be judged as low-class, slovenly, slatternly, ignorant, messy pigs. So when I spilled something, it went beyond embarrassing to painful mortification.

Then I discovered, joyfully and to my surprise, that it happens to everyone. Then I found among my friends that it's a reason for laughter and affection. We are the sisterhood of the stained shirts.

I rarely wear white shirts because they get stained and are not a good wardrobe investment. I had one I bought dirt cheap so I put it on -- brand new -- and wore it to work. I look down and there are little tiny drop stains like coffee or tea. I emailed my sisters and we shared a laugh. I can even get stains on shirts I haven't even worn! Together we have found that tomato sauce can get around layers of napkins, bibs, and sweaters to stain white and pastel shirts. Not just tomato sauce, but anything in our hand-to-mouth coordination proves to be a stain in the making.

Of course, the Goddess blesses us in all our humanity, and as a matter of fact, shows her abundance in her many aspects. The Triple Goddess of Stains: Maiden (Tomato Sauce on a pastel shirt), Mother (Coffee/Tea on a beige shirt) and Crone (Big Splat of All) and Hag (O, the hell with it, I'm putting it on proudly). That's four, but in the Coven of the Stained Shirts, our sisters are not bound by conventional thinking). All Spills are Ours. The God became the sacrificed one because he laughed as the stain became spilled.

All hail to the sacred bib of the Goddess

Catch my spills and take them into your Be-ing

Honor my stains for they are a life of devotion

To the bounties of your harvest.

All hail to the Sacred Tide-to-Go Wand of the God

Erase my spills, if you can, from my shirt

Leaving a faded spot thereon.

Honor my faded spots as we do honor

To the spilling wisdom of the God.

Blessed Be!

As to my hall of fame contention, I have two words: chop sticks and a teriyaki sauce to die for!

This from a zaftig goddess with a stained shirt!

Whole Cloth, Holy Cloth

2009-06-09T14:58:00.003-04:00

I'm excited by this.

On Friday night, Mike and I went to see the film, Creating Buddhas, a one hour film that explores the intersections of sacred intention, creation, mastery, and divinity-- in textiles. The filmmaker, Isadora Gabrielle Leidenfrost, is a Ph.D student and textile scholar at the University of Wisconsin at Madison.

See me jump up and down excitedly because I know her. I was in one of her early films on storytelling when she was an undergraduate. She is a very special woman, creatrix, and visionary, as well as an expert and scholar. She has her own production company, Soulful Media and has already made ten films, some short and some longer, like Creating Buddhas. She mentioned she made one about church hats. I'll bet that is very cool. Her vision of bringing the soul together with fabric, textiles, thread, color and the act of creation is amazing and unique. Her vision is an art, a vehicle for understanding and reflection, and a pathway to spiritual awareness. Her energy gives this vision presence and voice.

Creating Buddhas tells us about fabric thangkas, the Buddhist tradition and craft of creating divine beings using fabric, cord, thread, and embellishments. It's a sacred act of creating a vehicle for the Divine to inhabit. It's an amazing process. This film also talks with the only Thangka master residing in the West, Leslie Rinchen-Wongmo and it follows over several months as she creates as Green Tara fabric thangka. The film brings together experts, practitioners, and others to talk about Rinchen-Wongmo's process of becoming a master as well as her present-day creation.

So absorbing is the story and the process, I forgot to look at this as a film to critique or review, but rather it is another view of Universe, the soul, and the way of creation. Through her films, the pathway is open for us to explore, experience, and be changed.

Felon Friends and Pen Pals: Reflections on the Lessons I Learned

2009-02-27T09:06:00.007-05:00

As I related in a previous post, I had a prison ministry for several years. I learned a great deal about myself, about inmates and about the dedicated people who provide a service to inmates. This is a conglomeration of random lessons learned.

Prison and jail are not nice places. I know you are saying "DUH." I also know the inmates who wrote to me protected me from what they experienced. I had the naive notion that the majority of pagans were incarcerated by the unfair and punitive drug laws of this country. Wrong. Very wrong. The ones that wrote to me had done bad things and in some cases, very bad things. One of the rules I developed was to not ask what they did. It was better not knowing in many cases. Nevertheless, they proved to me they were sincerely seeking further education in the Craft. My weeding out process was fairly effective and rigorous.

That doesn't mean they wouldn't try to manipulate me. Prison life is all about manipulating the system. Keeping out of trouble, getting what you want, avoiding further punishment is what prison is all about. We desperately need prison reform in this country because it's all about containment and punishment. Most of the time, the only rehabilitation taking place is freed inmates are determined never to go back. Prisons and prison attitudes towards religion vary widely from state to state. Mail rooms in prisons can make or break a correspondence course. Many times, it was a struggle for the prisoner and me to convince the prison bureacracy that i was a legitimate teacher.

I developed what I consider some very good friends from this group of correspondents. One of my regrets is that I've lost touch with a few of them. I wish them well and hope maybe someday I'll pick up the pen and write, and that my letter will find them. Believe it or not, prisoners seem to get moved around a lot. Many prisoners even most that I worked with were not pagan until they came to prison. They either stumbled into it through a book or another inmate, or they observed inmates and wanted to know what it was. Some, truth be told, used Wicca as a way to scare other inmates and to manipuate they system. Some were lonely witches seeking same. My weeding out process was very effective in these matters.

When a prisoner gets out, they rarely stay in touch. I may get a call or two or a letter. Sometimes even an email. Fortunately and happily, their new life in the free world absorbs them and they don't need a reminder of their prison life. At least that's the way I look at it.

I learned that talking about a prison ministry to others, even in the pagan world would get greeted with judgment and dismay. At a couple of points, I asked for help from the groups I was in and was basically told that I was on my own. Many people counseled me to stop and it's rather awkward for your new lover to field a call from a prisoner when he didn't know you were doing prison work. We got over that but he has never been really comfortable with my felon friends.

Fortunately I found the pagan prison ministry group on yahoo groups and they were a great resource. There are a few good websites too. California has a pagan chaplain in its prison system. Mainstream religion does a much better job at this and they have really good resources that are translateable to pagan life and ethics. Get over your prejudices about mainstream religions, they have good people and good stuff and will help sometimes more than our pagan brothers and sisters.

I learned to have good, strong boundaries and to be a little harder. No is an excellent word and I should have said it sooner. I learned that I should have stayed small. I never went into the prisons as a pagan chaplain. I'd visited prisons to review their libraries and related programs and it was not something I intended on doing. Those who do are admirable!

My feelings about this today are a little raw because of a couple of lawsuits. Lawsuits happen, it's just ironic to get sued by the people you were trying to help. I don't want people who are contemplating a prison ministry to hesitate. It is good, satisfying work and it is desperately needed in our community. Go into it eyes wide open, without naive assumptions, with strong boundaries, and keep it small. You can't help everyone, you aren't responsible for the lack of response from the rest of the community, and you will work hard. And when you're done, end it in a way that honors you as a priest or priestess and honors your students (that was a do as I say, don't do what I did moment!) The gods will smile on you and bless you for sure.

Felon Friends and Pen Pals: How it all happened

2009-02-27T08:07:00.005-05:00

It started with a naive assumption and a good heart. We were in a pagan group together and we wanted to connect with other pagans. So we listed our names and addresses in a directory of pagan groups. This was back in the day before the ubiquity of the internet, so--hooray!-- we made connections when letters started arriving.

Here's the kicker. The letters were from inmates seeking connection with other pagans. I laughingly called my fellow witch and said thank you for the new friends, calling them "felon friends." The name stuck as we referred to the burgeoning prison correspondence as "the felon friends." There weren't many and the few inmates had intriguing stories and seemed very sincere. We sent them our newsletter and wrote personal letters.

About that time, I started offering correspondence courses. As a matter of fact, three of the four books I've written and published started out as correspondence courses. You guessed it! A good proportion of the subscribers were incarcerated pagans. As I drifted away from my former group, the felon friends continued to write to both of us, or at least to me. Inmates would pass my name on to others and my correspondence grew. It was very absorbing work and I learned a lot about how to deal with inmates. There are few resources for pagans working with inmates and sometimes the advice came from the inmates themselves. Many of them became very protective of me, giving me advice about how to tell the sincere seekers from the manipulators and the fakes.

Most of the faithful writers were eager for correspondence courses. I did a Tarot course using Learning the Tarot, and I did a "God of the Month," using my then unpublished book, The Wild God. So one day I realized I needed to 'get real' about this ministry and act like it was a ministry. I organized myself and took my in person beginning Wicca class which I call The Initiation of Athena and divided up into chapters, wrote questions, and designed a course ending with a dedication. I figured it would take a year and a day. what I didn't figure was the different mail restrictions in different prisons and different states. What I didn't figure is the enormous time it took to review and comment on the questions, to answer letters, keep good records, to make the copies and to get to the post office.

At one point, I formed it as a coven, The Coven of the Barbed Pentacle. We had a newsletter and when someone finished the course, there was a self-dedication ritual and I made up a certificate. The first person to finish was very dedicated and it took almost exactly two years. It was a happy and proud moment for us both.

One of the inmates gave my name to a newsletter that went out to incarcerated pagans across the country. I had 100 people, mostly men, in 21 states. To run a correspondence service of this size took most of the weekend and evenings during the week. It took a good investment of money (for postage and copying) and time. Most inmates are destitute but a few would send money or stamps when they could. One of the newsletter issues was financed 100% by inmate donations. A proud moment.

I would get phone calls and sometimes inmates would pass my name on to their chaplains or others so I would get calls from chaplains asking for advice on how to accomodate those observing pagan and Wiccan religions.

I was a priestess to inmates for more than five years with little help from others (more on that later). It took a lot of time, effort, and expense. It was the focus of my spiritual work, my spiritual practice, and my understanding of service to the gods. It can be and was for me, a burn-out situation. Inmates are demanding, their stories are sad, and sometimes their manipulation is evident but sometimes not. If I skipped a weekend or missed a night of writing letters, I got behind. Their letters reflected anger, disappointment, dismay, and concern.

I was getting burnt out. I was getting further and further behind. In some ways, I set myself up for failure. The process I developed was very individual and based on a personal response so there was no way to make this a 'factory' approach. One day a letter from an inmate -- for whom I'd gone the extra mile -- arrived that was a screaming accusation about how I took his money and gave him nothing in return (I used the money for the newsletter) and that I was another in a long line of betrayers of his trust.

That was the last letter I read from an inmate, with one exception. Months went by, then a year. I don't throw the letters out. I keep them thinking one day, I will write a letter of apology and maybe refer them elsewhere. I didn't end my services to them with honor and I still feel remorse and guilt over that.

Meanwhile, I was getting phone calls from the Department of Corrections, asking for information on accomodating pagan inmates observences of their religion. Ocassionally they would want someone to come into the prisons and lead groups. Amazingly, I had been able to find people. It's a rare and wonderful person who has the right kind of skills to do that. Kudos to all prison chaplains, pagans or otherwise!

As a result of some of my consulting, I was named in a law suit last year; the defendant inmate claiming that I along with the prison chaplain and warden were violating his right to observe his . Luckily for me, the Department of Corrections added me to their consultancy list so I was represented by the state attorney general and didn't have to retain my own lawyers. I just filed documents, answered questions, reviewed documents. Eventually, the case against me was dropped.

Yesterday, a letter arrived at my work, marked "legal materials." It was from an inmate demanding I provide an affadavit for his lawsuit against the Department of Corrections. The letter questioned my credentials and abilities. But more upsetting was that this inmate had my work address because the DOC had sent him a copy of the fax cover sheet. My feelings on this are still rather raw. My sense of privacy is violated and my ability to keep this work separate from my work is also destroyed. Luckily, the people who opened the mail and saw the letter are confidential and trustworthy.

And so it will go on. In the next post, I will write some reflections on the process, the call to service, and what I learned from the felon friends.

Best wishes and be good, or at least stay out of jail. It is not a nice place.

Reinventing Ourselves the Rowdy Way

2009-02-19T15:01:00.008-05:00

I just spend some time reworking the template on this blog. Sometimes, as Mouse complains about me, I point and click faster than my know-how grows. So I had eliminated something by accident that I wanted to reinstate. Took me awhile but I was able to do it.

Then I decided to give the blog a different look. I like the calm blues and grays of this template. To my mind, I just reinvented myself in my blog. And I think we can and do reinvent ourselves as we go evolve through our lives. If you think of who you were as you graduated high school or college and compare yourself to who you are now, you discover that you have had the opportunity to reinvent yourself, and thus create and recreate your life.

A few years ago, one of my colleagues who was really quite accomplished and had several careers across his lifetime, was ranting about how he has remained consistently the same throughout those transitions. Unlike me, he said, who has reinvented herself several times. How did he know. He took my bumper sticker, "Magic Happens," as a declaration of my ability to change and shift. It happens that he was right. I had taken the opportunity as I moved to a new job in a new town to create the person I wanted to be. I grew into it over the years as he had witnessed. Sometimes it is a way to grow into the kind of person you want to be. If you can envision it, know that you can become it, you can achieve it. Ghandi said, "be the change you want to be in the world." And this is a variation on the same thing.

Be that which you want to be. It hearkens to a magical principle in spell work called "behaving as if." You cast the spell and then you behave as if it has already happened until it comes into being. You decide what it is you want to be and then you behave as if. And like spell work, you have to seize every opportunity to do the work that achievement requires whether it is to get more training or education or to stand in your power and be the strong woman you envision. Envisioning is the first step in reinvention. Doing the work is the second. Third is recognizing when it happens and thanking the powers that made it happen, including yourself.

We as goddess people, shamanic practitioners, witches, pagans or just plain 21st century people are shape shifters. Perhaps we only become wolves, leopards, dolphins or earthworms in our dreams, meditations, or journeys but we do shift who we are over our lifetime. We have the power to do it if we believe it and step into that power of Be-ing. The rowdy way is to Be what we wish to be. It's not always easy and it's not always smooth, but it is always rowdy.

Of course if you have access to online avatar creators you make the process virtual.

Be the Rowdy Goddess you want to be in the world.

2009-02-17T09:53:00.002-05:00

more on this later................

2009-02-16T15:02:00.002-05:00

The Goddess Way Back Machine

Through the magic of technology, a draft of blog post I started on July 8th and was finished today was published on July 8th. It was about a cool tool found on the web along with a shameless plug for one of my books. There's a poem too.

So travel back in time to July 8th on this Rowdy Goddess blog for the wisdom, the joy, the laughter, and the really, really cool technology.

Blessed Be in Rowdy Wonder,

Gail

2009-02-15T10:54:00.007-05:00

Understanding Life through Quotations

If you have read other blogs, you read something on journaling. I discover that my good intentions don't make me a dedicated journaling goddess. I used to feel guilty about it until I read some things about journals and grimoires in Patricia Monaghan's book The Wild Girls. She describes different kinds of journals:

The common-place book: copying passages from other sources including books, poetry, movies etc.

The Book of Shadows

The sketch diary

The daily Diary

The Thought Diary or pensées in which you limit yourself to one sentence that distills all your spiritual knowledge of that day.

The Poetry Diary in which you write one poem that summarizes your experience of the day

Vision Diary: a record of your meditations, trances and dreams

Nature Diary: a record of weather, sketches of plants, birds and other beings that help establish your connection to the environment and the natural world.

I find that I keep a variation of most of them. One of the longest journals I've kept is a quotations journal. I bought it in 1972 when I was in college. You can see from the picture that is oh so 70s in style and color. Too embarrased to write down my thoughts, I kept track of the quotes that captured my attention. A common place book, it's called!

I haven't been faithful but I have filled it. I've filled it with quotations that have captivated me, I've pasted in fortunes from fortune cookies, I've added the little cards you get with jewelry and other objects. It is a compendium of what I'm thinking about. As I look through it, I can see my growth, both intellectually and spiritually.

The first quote is from a book called The Rising of the Lark by Ann Moray a book, now out of print, I adored in high school.

What is longing made from?

What cloth is put into it

That it does not wear out with use?

Gold wears out, and silver wears out.

Velvet wears out, and silk wears out.

Yet longing does not wear out.

The moon rises, and the sun rises.

The sea rises in vast waves.

But longing never rises from the heart.

It's an 17th century Welsh poem that I've never been able to locate anywhere else. The last quote was added at the end of 2008. "your luck has been completely changed today."

I started a new quote book today!

May your day and your life be far from common-place!

2009-02-14T19:28:00.003-05:00

The Goddess, With Chocolate
The Spirituality of Chocolate

I could write a lot about chocolate, as I'm sure many of us can. Chocolate comforts us, heals us, and makes us feel good. It's a delight to the senses with a pungent earthy smell and a delicious flavor. It combines well with other substances and flavors to bring us to a state of sensation and satiation.

Botanically, chocolate means "food of the gods," and it held a sacred place in the customs and rituals of native peoples of Central America. Our modern culture has worshipped chocolate, shaping it to our own beliefs. Women have a special affinity for chocolate and we know the Goddess infuses Herself into it.

Brieflly, and I'm sure there will be more later, the spirituality of chocolate is complex and powerful. Here is part of my vision of it, though I'm sure more is to be revealed:

White chocolate corresponds to the Maiden
Milk chocolate corresponds to the Mother
Dark chocolate corresponds to the Crone

And before you think I'm employing M-M-C fundamentalism talked about in another post,

Cocoa Powder corresponds to the Hag (more on Her later)
Chocolate with nuts corresponds to the God

I am actively pursuing additional wisdom on the spirituality of chocolate. It's a sacrifice, something I do in service to All-That-Is. And I'm very glad the Universe has a good sense of humor as well as the good taste to bless us with this wonderful substance.

Happy Valentine's Day and may your day be filled with love and kisses, chocolate or otherwise.

2009-02-13T12:09:00.005-05:00

Why Do When You Can Overdo?

I am a big fan of the show Clean House on the Style Network. It makes me feel good about my massive amounts of stuff. A lot of mine is put away and I do have clear floor space (when it's not covered by dog). One of the show's experts is the yard sale Diva, Trish Suhr, who is from Kentucky and retains a strong accent; her words are delivered in a raspy, husky voice. In a recent episode, they are helping a family who were from India to clean up their clutter. Because the lady of the house owned many, many saris, Trish decided to have a theme of "Bollywood" for the yard sale, saying, "Why do when you can overdo?!" It was delivered in this wonderful accent of rocks, hills, and hollers.

My rowdy goddess posse has adopted this as a theme and one of our sayings! Why do when you can overdo is the essence of rowdiness. Gaudy, bawdy, glittery fun. Don't just do it, go over the top, over do it. It's all about enthusiasm. Enthusiasm of the things that capture our hearts and imagination infuses us with the will and desire to achieve, to know more, be more, and find more. Enthusiasm is what drives us to immerse ourselves in what captivates us. It is an important part of a passionate, goddess-touched life.

Exuberance is another part of this rowdy part of doing and overdoing. Exuberance is the bounce we have when we are totally in the moment with our enthusiasm. It is part of the ecstatic living of the shaman, the witch, and the goddess-touched. I gave one of my friends a gaudy acessory to wear out in public at her birthday outing. She put it on and said, "I'll wear it out." To which I replied, "Of course you will." We got there and she put it on. A little girl sitting in the restaurant with her mother was watching and her face lit up as my friend donned her gaudy, glittery hairpiece and modeled, saying, "Why do when you can overdo." The little girl took that in and smiled widely. She became goddess-touched, rowdy, and understood the exuberance that is living in joy.

May you find your bounce and live enthusiastically today and everyday!

(oh by the way, even filled with enthusiasm and exuberance, we still need to put our stuff away!)

2009-02-11T14:03:00.004-05:00

We're for Dogs

I know that's a tag line for a pet food company delivered in the meltingly fluid voice of David Duchovny. I couldn't agree more, though. We're for other things, too, but we are definitely there for dogs.

My black lab mix Congo had a rough few weeks and I really thought this 14+ year old dog of my heart was on her last journey. She wasn't on her last legs because she couldn't stand. She was confused and unable to function. We took her to the vet who said it was likely to be an infection pressing on the nerves in her brain. It took a week for her to come back. Now she's back. She's elderly so there are still things going on. But my lovey dovey girl is back. Thank heavens we don't make that transition yet. Thank you Gods and spirits for answering our prayers and petitions.

I do believe that our dogs are part of our soul groups. One of the reasons I drifted away from Christianity was because I was told (and it was preached) that animals did not have souls and we would not be reunited with them in Heaven (or Hell, for that matter. Lucky them). How can a Creator reject such diversity of species, a wonder of creative spirit. Paganism embraces these beings as soul-full and sacred. Our pets return with us again and again, just as we return.

I've spent the last two days watching the Westminster Dog Show along with a special on the history of Westminster which aired on CNBC. I love the dog show. I remember a couple of years ago, I watched the whole six hours. The announcers were carefully scripted about terminology and very informative about all the breeds. The judge of the best in show (I believe it was the woman who is in this year's picture) chose a female hound. At the very end, she was interviewed and the last word on the show was, "There was just something special about that bitch." On behalf of rowdy bitches both human and canine, I concur.

This year's show was fabulous. The breeds are all wonderful and the dogs are just so fabulous. For a lot of them, you can really see their personalities. This year was, again, very special. I really liked the Puli, which looks like a big jumping, trotting mop. I rooted for the Sussex Spaniel.

Stump was forced to retire in 2004 when he got sick and nearly died. He survived and has been thriving as a beloved pet. he came out of retirement at ten years old for one last show. There were shots of him setting up on his hind legs, wagging his tale, and looking like a wise one, the fool.

Throughout the show, they reminded us both on the show and in advertisements that there are many wonderful dogs, both purebred and mutt to be adopted. Adopt through qualified breeders, through shelters and through rescue. Donate money if you can because Dogs rule. They've got it goin' on.

Wag Wag Wag

2009-02-10T13:34:00.002-05:00

In Praise of Ordinary Things

I was just re-reading Elizabeth Alexander's Praise Song for the Day, the poem read at the inauguration of Barak Obama as President of the United States. In this lovely poem, she celebrates the ordinary. Those things we do in order to live our lives. Things that are almost beneath our notice but are essential to keeping us going, keeping us whole, and keeping us full of wonder of the Universe. In other words, the mundane. The meaning of mundane is "of the world." With Alexander's words, I was reminded that our world of the mundane is truly wondrous and magical.

Too often, people use the word mundane to signify things that are not only beneath our notice, but things that are somehow worthy of our contempt, or at least separate and different enough to be "not us." We need the mundane in our lives. We need to sew on buttons, wash our clothes, pay our taxes, and go through each step of each moment of our lives. If we spend our time wishing for it to be more magical, we lose the delight of the moment.

We can always find something we love no matter what horrors or boredom our lives contain. Delight in a favorite color, a bird chirping, the rocks or whatever. When we focus our love on something of this world, it becomes sacred, magical, and full of the power of love.

Pagans often use the term mundane to indicate that it's separate from us...not magical. The mundane is of the world, and is not our world, Gaia, part of the Sacred Source? I think it's time for us to reclaim the word mundane as a reminder that the world is sacred and our every bit of our lives is an expression of our holiness.

May you find the wonder of the bright blessed day and the dark sacred night, today and everyday.

2009-02-09T11:59:00.003-05:00

A Life through Reading

My parents were/are readers. I have some wonderful memories of my parents readings bits and pieces of books to each other and to us. They found this one author really hilarious. So one of them would read the book first and then read funny bits to us out loud. Then the other would read the same books and read different funny bits out loud. After my parents separated, and I lived (as an adult) with my mother. She'd continue to read bits of books and the paper out loud to me. I thought it was normal.

When I moved away from the Washington D.C. area, I discovered that one of the things I really missed was the Washington Post. Then when I had the opportunity to subscribe on my e-book reader, I discovered what I really missed was my mother reading it out loud to me. I read out loud to other people. In one relationship that didn't work out, he really didn't get what I was doing. He didn't think it was fun, cool, or endearing. Lucky for me, Mike finds it endearing; maybe he pretends but he pretends! I think we'd still get along if he didn't but you know some things are a real litmus test...

When she retired at age 55, my mother got to read all the time, something years of teaching didn't allow. She'd go to the library and get shelves of books. To prevent taking out the same book, she started a notebooks of things she had read. Organized (of course!) by author's last name, she kept track of authors and titles. Somewhere along the way, my brother and sister put the book into a word processing program, and then printed it off. The notebook which we all call The BOOK, is in a binder with alphabetical tabs. She's eighty now and the book is substantial and hefty. A lot of the times, my youngest brother goes to the library for her. He takes The BOOK with him and consults it. The librarians know him and The BOOK. My niece was visiting and she took The BOOK to the library but she got things my mother had already read. She said to me, "I don't use The BOOK right." "Ah grasshopper," I said, "It takes years to get wise in the way of The BOOK."

My mother reads mostly mysteries and several years ago I started reading them again so we'd have some things to talk about and read out loud to each other. Now I consult The BOOK for ideas what to read next. We have different tastes, but I can rely on her for some pretty cogent and succinct assessments.

I have a BOOK of sorts of my own. I use the online community of Good Reads. It's a cool place similar to this blog where you can write about what you read, and then read what others write about books. It's very cool. I think it combines two things I love: writing and reading. You can find me at www.goodreads.com/gailwood if you are interested in reading what I write about what I read. Perhaps in 25 years, it will be The BOOK for me.

So in these week of love remembered, read something you love. Go to the library and rekindle your love of reading.

2008-10-20T10:44:00.002-04:00

Neo Shamanism and Wicca:

Can We Be Friends?

A friend of mine has moved to a new area and is tentatively seeking out new friends and new spiritual community. She was telling me that she had met someone who was a Reiki Master and a shamanic practitioner. When my friend mentioned Wicca, the shamanic practitioner had a mild reaction like an indrawn breath. She told my friend that she'd met some Wiccans and they seemed to be of the behavior and mindset, "I hate my religion of birth and so I became Wiccan. Can I tell you how much I hate my religion of birth!"

I drew my breath in too. If I were still a fundamental Christian, I'd be saying, "Bad witness, man, bad witness." That means as the embodiment of our religion, others witness their understanding of that religion or spiritual path by the things you do or say. Quite a responsibility.

On the other hand, it is a phase that most pagans including Wiccans go through. We have left the religion of our birth and need to process the reasons for it and what that means for us. At some point, though, most of us cross a threshold where we our message for others to witness is "I am Goddess, I am God." And that speaks volumes about where we are, but not particularly about where we've been.

A wise high priestess once told me that in her coven the behavior that we call "Christian bashing," can go on for a short while, but then if it continues, she goes to the person and says it must stop. All the bashing and complaining serves to do is to demean the new witch, and does not create change. Without change, there is no magic.

Wiccans and pagans can be friends with any religion since tolerance and acceptance are one of the outcomes of our ethics. Sometimes within our own community, our behavior creates misunderstanding. Yes, we can be friends with each other as well as the outer community.

My personal practice for many years has been weaving the threads of seemingly separate practices to create a pattern of wholeness. To me, shamanism and Wicca meld and dance together. We are all walkers between the worlds. We dance, play, grieve, and celebrate our divine aspects in both paths. For me it is the whole cloth. And there's a great book that demonstrates just how that can be done. I am pleased to announce that my new book The Shamanic Witch is now available from RedWheel/Weiser or from many other booksellers including Amazon.com