Put away the how-to books for a little while. What further instruction do you need?

Read no more poetry, no eddas, and no hymns. Just throw back your head and pour out your heart.

Read no folklore, no more myths, and no sagas. Put pen to paper and compose your own.

Sing no songs or chants you already know. Sing no verses you have not made up on the spot.

Just for a little while.

Do not dance to the usual beat, pretend that you forgot the spiral dance. No more dance moves taught in a workshop or book. Dance with the wind, dance to the dripping of rain from leaves.

Do not rely on the magickal correspondences of herbs as written by another. Spend some time, and ask the plants yourself.

Forgo the script and the ritual outline. Pick up a stick, take a deep breath and just go. Shouldn’t you know what to do by now?

Forget the fancy prose and weird terminology and practised speech. Pull up a chair, pour a drink and chat with your spirits and gods like old friends for a change.

Just for a little while.

Give in and give up. Shout at the wind. Be unfettered and free.

Step out of your comfort zone. Just for a while.

Rely on your wits and the things you’ve been researching all this time. Rely on your instincts and the practice you have put in. Rely on the relationship you’ve been building with the unseen.

Summer is coming and with it the storms of the season. Give in to that rumbling rhythm in the distance.

Put down that book, come along with me. Unbind your hair, pick up your stick, lace up your boots and let’s go find some adventure out there.

Related posts:

1. Horned God Devotional
2. Wordless Wednesday: Devotional
3. To Fly By Night

Some days, my feet hurt so much I want to sit down and cry

Some days, my brain can’t keep up with the world

Some days, I don’t know how I will keep my head above water

Some days, all I can do is hide the fear and hope for the best

Some days, I could weep with gratitude

Some days, I remember to count my blessings

Some days, I marvel at the people and the love in my life

Some days, I wiggle with happiness as I slip into bed

Some days, it all happens in one day

Those days, those days

*

(PS: I will be drawing for the Tenth Rune Spell contest and announcing the winner tomorrow after lunch)

Related posts:

1. Random Encounters
2. Now You Do It! *poke*
3. Not

You speak of freedom of religion. You say “this is their Tradition and they have a right to it.”  And this is true.

You speak in generalized platitudes about religious tolerance, of freedom. You say nothing of the pain caused to the individual. My “beef” with Z. Budapest and Dianic Wicca is not one of generalized platitudes. It is personal.

I have arrived at an open Dianic ritual and was pulled aside and asked to leave. Because I arrived in combat boots and a biker jacket (I came on a motorcycle) and my energy was too masculine.

I have been at a women’s ritual where a Dianic Wiccan informed me that I was buying into the patriarchies’ objectification of women for wearing a pretty, strappy dress with full hair and make up done. She said I offended her and the Goddess by being tarted up.

I have been told disdainfully that I cannot be a woman of substance, as I am young, thin and pretty.

I have been told that I am selfish and unnatural for being a woman in her thirties who is not a mother, and who has no strong, desperate desire to become one. I have been told that I cannot be a whole woman until I bear children from my body.

Does Z have the right to exclude transwomen? Yes.

Do Dianic Wiccans have the right to call me an unnatural, too masculine, tart who lacks substance … because that is their Tradition? Maybe so.

Look into my eyes and see the pain there. Know that it is 1/10 of the pain the transwomen at Pantheacon felt when they sat in protest, staring at a sign that read: Genetic women only.

Does Z have a right to practice intolerance because it is her Tradition? Yes.

Do the organizers of Pantheacon have the right to allow her to lead a ritual that excludes certain kinds of women? Yes.

But I also have the right speak out against this these things. I have the right to condemn her, her Tradition and Pantheacon. And I will exercise that right, with tears in my eyes and sorrow in my heart.

Things Z has written or spoken on the subject:

“Transies who attack us only care about themselves.”

“Women are born not made by men on operating tables.“

“But if you claim to be one of us, you have to have sometimes in your life a womb, and overies and MOON bleed and not die. ”

“Genetic women only”

“Many many young men at collage age are latent homosexuals, which is dangerous to women.”

“The male gender is gender conscious, ‘us boys together’ against the other gender.”

“Why are we universally hated by the male gender? ”

These are not the words of a wise Elder. They are not the words of a loving priestess. They are not the words of a worthy leader. They are the words of a hateful, narrow minded bigot.

You say we should allow Z to have her Tradition, you say we should allow Pantheacon to exclude certain people from rituals based upon gender and sexual identity. You say we must do these things in the name of religious freedom, in the name of tolerance, in the name of diversity.

I say that religious tolerance and religious freedom does not mean that we must tolerate leaders who are openly bigoted.

“Now, we must all fear evil men. But there is another kind of evil which we must fear most, and that is the indifference of good men.” ~ Boondock Saints

Related posts:

1. I Just Keep Telling Myself
2. I Can …
3. My Soap Box

“Happy Lupercalia!” I said to my roommate Grey once she had gotten home from work and settled in for the evening.

“What’s Lupercalia?” she asked.

“Far superior to Valentine’s Day” I replied, then grinned with delight as she read the Wikipedia entry.

“Too bad we don’t have any goat skin to wear and run around in.” said Grey.

“I have goat skin.”

“That’s right … you DO have goat skin.”

And so the plotting began. There was much giggling in our house that night. It’s all about celebrating how awesome life is, after all.

The next night we saw a man about harp and visited someone dear for Valentine’s Day. On the drive back home, we declared ourselves to be on a Valentine’s Day/Lupercalia quest.

One Witch said to the other: “Don’t worry, no matter what happens, we have a harp in the trunk.”

On the last day of Lupercalia, we headed into the countryside.

Grey and I put on our newly made goat skin garters, winter boots and warm cloaks (and not much else).  We trucked along down the path towards the forest and once out of sight of any neighbours, we gave the boys our cloaks to carry. Then, giggling like lunatics, Grey and I processed down the snow covered “yellow brick” road. Shaking rattles and shouting blessing at the land. An attempt was made to sing “Hoof and Horn” but running about in the snow whilst naked takes your breath away. We also couldn’t stop laughing long enough to sing properly.

We picked a birch tree we liked and stooped there. While the boys watched and smoked cigarettes, I stood a large and dark phallus in the snow. Grey and I surrounded it with the stems of tulips, lilies and daffodils, as well as the blossoms of pure white carnations. We announced the coming of spring and declared the land to be blessed. Sacred smoke was burned to entice Faunus to come along and play, bringing spring time with Him.

We turned about and holding hands, Grey and I skipped back down the road. Crash the dog followed along, far too busy finding good smells to care what we were up to. Once we reached the end of the trees that hid us from the neighbours, we waited for the boys to catch up and give us our cloaks.

Back in the house and warmed by a good fire and real clothes, I asked permission to burn the sacred cakes in the fire. If a man builds you a fire, you ought to respect him enough to ask before you start tossing stuff into it.

We settled in for the night to watch movies, drink wine and make merry. All acts of love and pleasure are Her rituals, right?

I hope you had a good Lupercalia, folks!

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2. The Red Velvet Altar Cloth
3. A Few Things That Work (and other things)

I have a back log of writing due to computer issues, but I hope to get all caught up over the next week.

Any how, this one is supposed to be quick which is why I am boring you with it now.

Last night I tried something a little different. I sat on a High Seat and did a casting. Holy Shit!

This is a public service announcement!

My question: I asked my spirits what they wished for my blog readers (and friends and podcast listeners and etc) to know?

The answer:

Poor self esteem, self doubt and lack of self worth is like walking around on a broken leg.

The approval and acceptance of others does not heal a broken leg. It only acts as a crutch. Yes, it’s easier to get around on a broken leg with a crutch, but the leg is still broken.

Tearing down other people may stop the pain of the broken leg, but it will never heal the fracture.

Comparing yourself to others, and finding yourself lacking, only breaks the leg further, slowing or stopping the healing process. Comparing yourself to others, and finding them to be lacking, is like taking a baseball bat to their legs. Get your nose out of other people’s Crafting.

Only your own accomplishments and self satisfaction can heal the broken leg. Remove doubt, make a commitment and achieve something.

Stop waiting for other people to approve your desires and goals. Do it anyways.

This year find ways to say “I did that!”, “This is my choice for myself” and “I made this!” as often as possible. Care naught if others give you the kudos that you think you deserve; learn to walk on your own legs. Walk for yourself. Go places, new places, hard places, scary places. Be brave for yourself. Earn something the hard way.

Heal the leg.

Happy New Year gang!

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1. To Fly By Night
2. Horned God Devotional
3. Look! A Press Release!

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