The Ramblings and Wanderings

Archive for the ‘A Sense of Humor’ Category

This last Friday myself and Lady N were in charge of leading the Lughnasadh ritual for our Hedge Group. Lady N is newer to the Path (and thus doesn’t have mountains of ritual tools) and I am a terrible pack rat, who also just happened to be in possession of the Hedge’s Ritual Toolbox (or box o’ ritual tools and candles and stuff). Therefore, I found myself spending much of the afternoon beforehand going through the Ritual Toolbox, my own collections of items, making a list and checking it twice.

One item was nearly forgotten. This is the red (probably real, but may not be) velvet altar cloth I’ve had in storage for ages. Having been going through a phase these last couple of years I like to call my “The dirt is a great place for setting up my altar and to practice my rituals on because I am a hardcore Hedgewitch phase” my red (probably real, but may not be) velvet altar cloth has been sitting forlornly in storage for some time. I did remember it right before I left on Friday; as I figured this would be a good contribution to the groups’ Ritual Toolbox. I also felt kind of bad for neglecting the poor thing. So on my way out the door I pulled it, still folded, out of its place of storage and stuck it in the Ritual Toolbox.

After promising Brendan various sexual favours if he helped me get everything to the park without breaking, we arrived well before everyone else at the appointed place. I had planned to be there a good hour before the other members so that I could have everything set up and be all grounded and ready for their arrival. I talked Bren into hauling a large stone into the South to act as a hearthstone for my thurnble (thingy you burn stuff in) and then I decided the best thing to do was pull out the altar cloth and lay everything out on it so I could decide what will go where. This was also necessary as the Ritual Toolbox doubles as a Portable Altar, so you have to have everything carefully removed from the Ritual Toolbox and the lid closed before you can set up the Portable Altar.

So, I gently pried open the wicker top of the Ritual Toolbox that doubles as a Portable Altar and unfurled the red (probably real, but may not be) velvet altar cloth. Which was to my horror, covered in DOG HAIR and LINT!!! Oh, the humanity! This is no doubt due to having spent the last couple of years in storage at my mother’s house where she fosters rescue dogs. I can only blame ADD for the reason why it did not occur to me that a red (probably real, but may not be) velvet altar cloth that had been stored in such a way might be covered in lint and dog hair.

All the contents of my purse and bag were then unceremoniously dumped on to the grass as I flailed about hoping beyond hope that I might just maybe have a lint brush or even some duct tape amongst my belongings. But alas, I did not. I tried rubbing the cloth vigorously to remove the offending grey lint and dog hair but to no avail. I shook it out repeatedly as Bren watched on unsympathetic to my plight.

Alas, nothing was going to remove the copious amounts of lint and dog fur covering the red (probably real, but may not be) velvet altar cloth. Especially the lint, which mocked me most cruelly, it said “Ha ha! Fancy yourself capable of handling a Priestess’s duties do you? You fool! Everyone will see how incompetent you really are now!”

I could have simply not used the altar cloth at this point; I could have given it to Brendan to take home with him. But I refused to be defeated by lint and certainly not to sarcastic, mocking lint! “There’s no use for it” I said to Brendan, “I will have to arrange the tools in such a way as to cover the worst of the lint.”

Brendan is a wise man and kept his mouth shut, though he did raise an eyebrow.

So I cleverly placed the lint covered red (probably real, but may not be) velvet altar cloth upon the Ritual Toolbox that doubles as a Portable Altar in such a way that the least-linty area was positioned on the very top. Then I curled the ends under and tucked them against the Portable Altar to hide them.

After strategically arranging the ritual tools upon the lint covered red (probably real, but may not be) velvet altar cloth I then sprinkled dried herbs and flowers all over the damned thing to fill in the space and hide the offending lint. Luckily, the ritual called for large quantities of dried herbs, leaves and flowers and had I brought extra. Taller ritual tools were placed on the ground around the Portable Altar and leaning against it, which also helped to hide the evil lint of death.

With an amused Bren looking on I waved my fist at the Sun, demanding that it sink quickly so as to help hide the evil lint of death from sight.

Just then, I heard voices! The other members of the Hedge were arriving. Would they notice? Would they laugh at me? Mock my ability as a Priestess? Would they ban me forever from the group for daring to bring a lint covered red (probably real, but may not be) velvet altar cloth to ritual?

No!

My cunning ass-covering worked like a charm. Instead the ladies gathered around and actually admired the beauteous creation that was my altar set up. They said things like “You have raised the bar for all of us with this” and they weren’t making snide, sarcastic fun of me either. They meant it!

One of them was so impressed with how lovely and elegant my altar was she took pictures. If you would like to see these pictures you will have to go to the As Within Blog, make nice comments on said blog, and ask Lis politely to make a blog post with the pictures. If you do just enough ass-kissing maybe she might be swayed to do so.

Of course, the lint covered red (probably real, but may not be) velvet altar cloth wound up back in the Ritual Toolbox that doubles as a Portable Altar, which was then handed over to the next person to Priestess a ritual. I really should have snagged the lint covered red (probably real, but may not be) velvet altar cloth and took it home so no one would be the wiser. I can just see her getting home, planning the ritual, opening up the Ritual Toolbox that doubles as a Portable Altar and saying to herself “Why the fuck is this thing covered in lint and dog hair?!”

Forever hiding the flop sweat,

Juniper

It’s Still Pagan

*

To the tune of “Its still Rock  n’ Roll” By Billy Joel

*

What’s the matter with the robes I’m wearing?

“Can’t you tell that your cord’s too wide?”

Maybe I should buy a hooded cloak

Like back in the burning times

Where have you been in the broom closet honey?

“You can’t dress witchy ’till you spend a lot of money”

*

Everybody’s talking about the new Path

Funny, but its still NeoPagan to me

*

What’s the matter with the broom I’m riding?

“Can’t you tell that it’s out of style?”

Should I get a store bought besom?

“Are ready for us to laugh and smile?

Nowadays, you can’t be too traditional

Your best bet’s besom made exactly the way we tell ya”

*

Dark Goth, Light Fluff – even if it’s old junk

It’s still NeoPagan to me

*

Oh, it doesn’t matter what they say in the Circle

‘Cause it’s always been the same old scene

There’s a new Grove in town, but you can’t get the word

From a story in a magazine

Aimed at your average teen

*

How about a pair of pentacle tattoos

And a dress from the renaissance?

“Well, you could really be Selena Fox, baby

If you would just paint it all black

Don’t waste your money on a shiny new cauldron

You get more mileage from a cheap-o pot”

*

New Age, Faery, Wicca craze

Anyways, it’s still NeoPagan to me

*

What’s the matter with Coven I’m joining?

“Can’t you tell that they’re out of touch?”

Should I try to be a solitary Pagan?

“If you are, then you think too much

Don’t you know about the new Wicca, honey?

All you need are books and a whole lotta money”

*

It’s the next thing, Heathen, Druid, Celtic

Anyways, it’s still NeoPagan to me

Everybody’s talking about the new Path

Funny, but its still NeoPagan to me

*

By Juniper 2006

Last night I dreamed that I was on a long, multi-day, chartered bus trip with many of my co-religionists. The hired bus driver was a quiet and professional Muslim.

My fellow bus mates became very upset that the bus driver did not want to make friends and socialize with them. They were angry that he refused to listen to the usual “Pagans are not Satan worshippers, we are good people” spiel.

It go the point that most of them had all piled up at the front of the bus demanding to know why the bus driver wouldn’t accept the fact that Wiccans and Pagans are good people too! “Why didn’t he join us for meals and talk to us?”

The driver kept repeating that he was just a bus driver and it wasn’t his job.

The Pagans grew more and more insistent and upset. Sad and angry the bus driver did not want to be friends or hear about how they are good people. “Why won’t you validate us?’ they cried. “You monotheists are all the same! Judgmental!”

The driver was getting so distracted that the bus began to swerve on the hiway. I climbed my way into the aisle of the bus and hollered at everyone for their attention.

I said:

“Guys, he is just the bus driver. He is a professional. It’s his job to get us home not make friends or learn about the Lord and Lady. He doesn’t give a shit what you believe.”

They all turned and looked at me, pouting. I waved my fist in the air and shouted; “Everyone doesn’t need to accept you! Now quit distracting the driver before you get us all killed! Stupid assholes! Sit down and shut up!”

I owe you guys a post! Its been a while since I wrote some long, rambling, scattered rant so here ya go:

In my opinion the universe (or should I say multiverse) is just to dammed big and complicated for statements like “there is no such thing as luck”

It’s a great big multiverse and we’re all really puny, we’re just tiny little specks … its big and black and inky and we’re all really dinky. It’s a BIG multiverse and we’re not.

Perhaps it’s the pluralists or shamanic practitioner in me, but I cannot conceive of a multiverse where luck, coincidence, fate, destiny, force of will, personal responsibility, social responsibility, divine presence, divine will and a million other factors do not exist all at once. The black and white thinking where we see all or nothing, or one or the other just doesn’t make sense to my mind. I believe in fate and luck, I believe in personal power and responsibility and all the other things all together. I believe there are factors involved in the operation of the worlds (deliberate plural worlds there) and more forces at work than we could ever be fully aware of at any given moment or even over the course of one single century long lifetime.

I am uncomfortable with blanket statements such as “there is no fate” or “there is no luck” the human mortal mind is just too simple and too small to fully comprehend the wizard behind the curtain. We can barely perceive that there is a curtain.

I do believe that we create our own reality, not in the sense of the Secret, but in the sense that we are responsible for how we choose to perceive things and deal with them.

I agree that we are often more responsible for the things that happen to us than we often think we are, or can see as it is happen to us.

However I refuse to believe that only we are responsible for the goings on in our lives. That we cause these things by being “closed or “open” or through thought or visualization… or even through our actions and words. I will agree that often these things are a factor, even a major factor. But I cannot accept that they are the only cause.

I refuse to accept any claim that we cause everything that happens in our lives to happen.

I will not believe that any child being raped has brought about her abuse upon herself in any way shape or form. No child is personally responsible for being raped. As an adult that child will be responsible for her own healing, yes, but never should that child ever be considered responsible for what was done to her.

When people claim that it’s all a matter of personal responsibility they do so without thought for the child being molested. They do so without thought for the woman helplessly watching her son be executed by a guerrilla militia, they do so without thought for the people swept away in a tsunami.

To make such a blanket, black and white statement as everything is a matter of choice and personal responsibility makes as much sense in my mind as to say that the people in Haiti really DID cause the earthquake to happen to them by practicing Voodoo. It relies on a similar kind of logic.

The multiverse does not fit into boxes. It cares nothing for our definitions or attempts at explaining its myriad of processes. The forces of the worlds, both seen and unseen cannot be understood, let alone articulated by your or I. We cannot even begin to comprehend them.

Therefore I wholeheartedly reject all blanket statements such as “there is no such thing as luck”

It’s easy to say things like “everything is a matter of personal responsibility” and “there’s no such thing as luck” when sitting in an air conditioned home in one of the safest neighbourhoods in North America. Try farming…try simple living, try living in such a way that something as fickle and unpredictable as a hail storm can mean the difference of having enough food to eat and enough money to support you through winter.

Physical magazines are dying out for four main reasons:

1) Most people in Western Society under the age of 30 learned to type on a keyboard right along with learning how to write on paper. Folks are just as comfortable reading on a Kindle or PC as reading a book or magazine. Also digital information can be stored on a single, small external hard-drive whereas magazines fill boxes that take up much more space and can become fire hazards. The days of keeping old magazines in boxes for decades are coming to a close.

2) Magazines are made of paper. Paper is made of trees and deforestation is bad. Also most magazines are made of that glossy stuff you can’t even recycle, compost properly, build a decent fire with, or lay down to paper train your puppy.

3) There’s a recession going on. Rather a lot of us are trapped in dead end entry level position jobs because a certain generation didn’t save up and thus retire when they were supposed to. Now that they are retiring, they are expecting us to help take care of them, and our own families, while stuck in dead end entry level positions. Also most of them have remarried so most of us don’t have two parents, we have two sets of ageing parents. That’s if you have a job at all right now. My point? Magazines take up disposable income people just don’t have.

4) Most stuff found in Pagan periodicals are opinion pieces, 101 re-hash, “what I did for Beltaine” articles, advertising and bad poetry. In short, it’s all crap I can get for free reading people’s blogs.

I always thought that crochet was invented by an ADD woman, being one myself.

Once upon a time, long ago, probably in France, a woman with undiagnosed Attention Deficit Disorder was puttering around her cottage. Doing much but getting nothing done, of course.

In fact she was very busily working hard at trying to find the key to her chest full of yarn (and other odds and ends that had found their way into the chest). She tore the whole cottage apart and simply couldn’t find it anywhere. She did, however, find one of her long lost knitting needles in the process. Distracted by the find, she looked about for the other kitting needle. Alas she couldn’t find that either. (For the record, the key to the chest had wandered off to the barn and the other knitting needle was out in the garden having spent part of the summer holding up a young bean stalk.)

Suddenly remembering what she had been doing a few minutes before, our heroine return to her chest. Using whatever she happened to have in her hand, the single knitting needle, she was able to pry open the chest. Happily she dug through the disorganized tangle of yarn within. Unhappily, it seemed as though all her other knitting needles had also vanished (who know where they wound up) and the last remaining one was now bent at one end.

Thinking she ought to run to the market to buy more needles before winter came, and perhaps a few other items as well, she threw on her cloak and walked out the door. Into a snow storm! Oh no, winter had started and she hadn’t gotten around to knitting warm woolly socks for her family yet!

Somewhat panicked, our heroine went back inside her home and paced about. Her husband and sons would return from the fields soon and be very cold, when they found that she still hadn’t made them socks to keep their feet warm she would be berated and hollered at for certain.

So she took up her single, bent, needle and started to desperately mess around with her wool. After much cursing and swearing, and putting that creative, think-outside-the-box, mind to work she invented the art of crochet!

The End