The Ramblings and Wanderings

Archive for the ‘A Sense of Humor’ Category

I will be me

Unequivocally

Always

And in every situation

No audience

No following

No friends

Or family

Will make me be

Anything other than

Me

I am not a one dimensional character

I am an onion

I have many layers

It may take time

For them all to see

All that is me

Sometimes happy

Sometimes sad

Sometimes compassionate

Sometimes stark raving mad

Though I am a human being

And thus I will change and grow

And often be a different me

I will still always

Be me

But always and forever

I will be me

Consistently

With integrity

I will be me

Balance.

Yes yes yes.

That checkbook, that bank account, that job you do, the errands you run. Keep pilling shit on the teeter totter and never stop to wonder … why is this shit on my teeter totter? Whats does it mean? How do I feel about it?

The things that need changing and fixing the most is our society and culture. This conformist, mindless, horrid world where the gross domestic product, and keeping up with the Jones’, is the most important and worthy goal.

Schools where we teach children not to think for themselves or nurture their talents and abilities but chain them to desks all day so that they can spend the rest of their lives in a cubicle.

Wearing the same clothing as everyone else, driving the same cars, living in identical pink stucco homes, going to the same churches, eating the same unhealthy genetically modified food from McDonalds.

Then giving birth to more children destined to lead the same meaningless lives.

People are asleep. People are sheep.

The world is changing before our eyes and we are too busy watching Oprah to see it.

Society crumbles around our ears as we go shopping for a new video game to keep us blind.

I walk through the suburbs and cities and I weep and rage at the stupidity of it all.

Some of these people try so hard to be “perfect”, with all the fake tans and fake eyelashes and expensive parties and such just to fit in. They work so hard to keep up an appearance. They talk about Balance and chakra alinments and cleansing their aura.

Then they wonder … why am I not happy? Why am I not fullfilled?

People are happy when they’re allowed to thrive and do their own thing with acceptance, not when they’re held down and forced into a mold that they don’t fit in.

It makes me wonder how we are all going to survive together tomorrow if we are so worried trying to fit the “traditional” ideas that are suffocating.

We are taught, brainwashed even, that everyone must fit that mould or esle they are deficient in some way and then must be made to conform.

We are expected to play by the social rules, to have priorities that mirror whatever holywood and the corperate America say we should, etc.

The system isn’t broken.

It’s been methodically turned into a precisely functioning system guaranteed to oppress and press, squeezing out all defiance, independence, and unique potential.

Don’t worry though … You’ll feel “better” as soon as the BMW is paid off.

There is no greater threat to a controlling, selfish, greedy, manipulative society than a strong, bold, creative fighter.

Passionate people are awesome to listen to. They are rare in today’s world, in my opinion. And passionate people that can have an independent thought are even more rare.

Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think. Don’t examine your life, your reasoning, don’t wonder why. Don’t think!

Tow the party line, run the rat race. Do as is expected of you.

Dogmatism and idealogoy runs so deep the non-conformists practice it.

Live life asleep. In a materialistic, banal world where nothing matters and nothing is sacred.

Spew nonsense catch phrase garbage, pop culture wisdom.

Fear everything!

Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think

Don’t stop to feel the wind on your face. Don’t stop to smell the bread baking. Keep that nose to the grindstone.

Don’t look upon the world and wonder, how do I affect it?

How does it affect me? How can I improve these things?

Whats is my relationship with the world around me?

Is it sacred, this world. Am I sacred? Is my relationship with the world around me sacred?

Or is it all a bunch of garbage. Like the food we eat and the clothes we wear.

Am I just a brand? Or a no-name piece of trash in a trash world.

Just another slave to the gross domestic product.

How do I claw my way off this grindstone and into the free air?

Breathe …

Okay. So my dear Bren may or may not have eaten his “Totem” for dinner last week. And I joked about it. A few people had panic attacks about this. So in my usual sweet but sarcastic way let me address this.

First of all, I am the kind of woman who has been known to start pillow fights in the middle of the afternoon in downtown Ottawa. I don’t take life all that seriously. I take my Witchcraft seriously, but not entirely seriously. If there was a rule that in order to be a Pagan and/or Witch you had to be serious all the time, about everything, and never crack a joke, I’d join the Discordians, or possibly the Pastafarians. I do love spaghetti.

So with that out of the way …

I just adore the endless debate over the proper definitions and uses of words. Especially words stolen from cultures we invaded then conquered and shoved onto reserves to eek out a life of poverty and hopelessness.

The whole Totem vs Familiar vs Power Animal vs Let’s Just Call Them Sprits debate is a personal favourite of mine.

Folks often use Totem for just about anything. From my understanding in most of the cultures that have Totem concepts, you get one of these at birth. Often it’s a tribal thing. Kind of like how as a Fergusson our ancient clan badge is the Poplar tree. There are all kinds of rules regarding Totems, depending on who you talk to. These things vary from culture to culture, tribe to tribe, website to website … got it?

Familiar also gets used for just about everything.

In my mind it is an actual animal (maybe a plant too) you work magick and ritual with. In A very real sense, not a “My cat jumped on my altar once” way. My now elderly dog Crash and I have a relationship that can only be described as uncanny. Those are other folk’s words, not mine. The fact that she allows Bren to take her half a block away from me to potty in the morning is amazing. This dog and I part a part of each other. In ritual we dance an intricate dance built upon a decade plus of working together. She guards me as I walk the Hedge and sometimes even joins me. I can go on and on but I won’t.

Then there’s Power Animals, Spirit Guides, Spirits, Ancestor Teachers … the list goes on and on and often different words are used for the same thing.

It’s enough to make your head spin.

Now while I do understand it is important to be using words in a way that makes sense to us all, so that we can communicate better, I also feel that at times we worry far too much about these things.

Once upon a time, while wandering on the otherside of the Hedge I found myself hanging out with the God Who Has Antlers on His Head. Since nothing seemed to be happening, I decided to ask a question.

I asked “Sooooo … are you one individual god, not a god at all, are all gods one god, or are you some kind of archetype … or what?”

His response:

“It doesn’t matter”

So there you go.

It doesn’t fucking matter.

Not that we have that out of the way …

Bren is not a shamanic practitioner; he’s a Druid and Philosopher. He doesn’t know what his Totem is and I don’t know what his Totem is. He has a special fondness for rabbits, that’s all.

And yes, he eats rabbit. Last week was not the first time either.

In some Traditions, it’s totally against the rules to eat your Totem. Bren knows this. He has worked with First Nations Elders off and on for many years. Not as a spiritual student, but as a guy working for the government and such learning their customs and values in order to beat the white guys in charge over the head with the proper ethics of dealing with the First Nations people. But he knows a heck of a lot about First Nations culture, customs and spirituality.

When I joked to him about eating his “Totem” the first thing he mentioned (not totally seriously) was that it’s against the rules in some Traditions to do so.

At which point I said “Yeah, but you’re white”

Bren and I are not First Nations. We are Celts and Anglo-Saxons by blood and culture at best (and Canadian of course)

The debate over whether white folks have Totems aside, there is a lot of good evidence that animals had some major sacred importance to white people once upon a time. The horse for example was associated with some heavy hitting goddesses, with the land itself, and with sovereignty.

But white folks being white folks, we’ve always done things a little differently than other cultures. We don’t treat scared horses like sacred cows in India, or Totems you can’t eat.

Here’s an interesting ancient Celtic practice:

In order to be king, you must (in front of the whole tribe) have sex with a horse, then kill it, then butcher it, then eat some of it, and then cover yourself with its blood and guts and maybe even parade around in its still oozing hide.

Yep yep

So, even if Bren’s Totem is a rabbit, I don’t feel all that bad about serving it to him for dinner.

Thanks for reading yet another nonsensical ramble.

Dear normal people of the Pagan movement. First of all let me state that I am very happy to see you, and your adorable children joining up. Witchy Soccer Mom are sooooo cute, and it’s nice to have real professionals (like lawyers) not afraid to call themselves Wiccan, or Druid, or whatever in public now. In no way do I want to chase you out of this big old stone soup of religions and magickal practices.

However, I want to make a few things clear to you.

There is no way in cold, dark Hel I am going to go mainstream and PC myself. So please stop trying to paint all of Paganism with the same PC brush. Please stop pretending that you are somehow better than the goth kid with the giant pentacle, or the naked hippy chick at fest.

Those naked hippy chicks were out there, bare assed naked earning us the right to be naked back in the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s … they also lead the way for us to be recognised as real faiths. They build the first Pagan organizations and it’s the now grey haired naked hippy chicks that fight to get pentacles on the gravestones of Wiccan soldiers. So stop looking down your nose at that naked hippy chick with dreadlocks in her hair, stop telling her to put some clothes on, and show a little respect.

Now, about those goth kids out in the world wearing giant pentacles and Thor’s hammers for all to see. While you all were hiding in your broom closets, those goth kids and their giant pentacle were being spit on, beat up and pushed around. It was their tenacity to keep showing up at school or the mall, sporting a giant pentacle and a black eye and spit in their purple hair that made those bullies give up … so that you could feel safe to come out of your broom closet. So please stop acting like those goth kids don’t exist or don’t have the same rights as a Pagan or Witch that you do.

I have just as much of a right to show up at Circle in a motorcycle jacket as you do in pink sweater vest. In fact, it may very well be that because I’m in a biker jacket that those assholes calling nasty names at us from the otherside of the park are staying on the otherside of the park. Cause seriously pink sweater vests make you look like a pussy. But hey, if you like them, then wear them. I would never tell you what to wear.

So please, keep spreading Paganism in the suburbs, I think it’s awesome. Just don’t think you can drive the rest of us away or turn a messy little Hedgewitch into Martha Stewart.

Okay? Thanks!