Home Again, Home Again

Well, another year is almost upon us! We arrived home a little later than expected but without incident; a grateful change from the last time we traveled, when flying was a bit of an adventure. It's good to be home, and I'm looking forward to a new year. I have some plans in my head that I hope will bloom as I step forward into the journey of 2011, though I hesitate to call them resolutions. For me, when combined with "new year's", that word just spells disaster.

I arrived home to a few new magickal books which I'd ordered prior to taking the LA trip and two furry children who were very happy to see us. Our friend did a great job in caring for them while we were away. In fact, he seemed like he wasn't quite ready to leave! I was grateful that he'd stayed here; it enabled us to go on vacation feeling secure that the animals would be well cared for and the house would be relatively safe from infiltrators.

That's all for now. Have a magickal and wonderful day!




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Hanging in LA

We've been in Louisiana since the 22nd, hanging out with family. Today we spent the day with my husband's nephew, eating lunch at a diner, enjoying some good conversation, and catching up on the local happenings. Later in the day we visited with Hub's parents at the nursing home. His Dad seems to be doing better; his speech is becoming more discernable and he is walking behind a wheelchair. He's always seemed like such a strong man to me, and I do believe he'll progress further.

Tonight we have a party to go to at my sis in law's house, which should be fun. Then, tomorrow, we're on the road to N.O. again!

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Blessed Winter Solstice / Yule

Well, it's that time of year again, and I hope everyone is having a beautiful holiday season whatever tradition you are celebrating. The malls are once again packed to the gills, frenzied parents are running about for those last minute "perfect" gifts, and most of us are trying to keep some sense of calm inside amongst the chaos. At times like this, it's important to remember what it is we are really celebrating. Most of the holidays of this season are celebrating the increase of light in our world, with the Winter Solstice and Yule celebrating the rebirth of the sun to our world. From now until summer returns, the days will gradually offer us more light and warmth, though here in Florida I've been ecstatic over experiencing temperatures low enough to give honor to our wonderful fireplace. By this August I was worn out by the Africa hot swelter, and winter has arrived in our home with much fanfare and appreciation.

Aside from a Yule party that I went to with my daughter (given by the wonderful women who run her children's spiritual group), this witch has not done too much in the way of Yule festivities. We have a gorgeous tree taking honor in a corner of our living room, lights decking the eves and fences, various ornaments and pine boughs sparkling about the inside of our home, and my altar has been decorated with sparkley red altar cloth and various items appropriate for the Winter Solstice/Yule, so the appearance related things have been done. Tomorrow we leave for New Orleans to visit my husband's family, so I've been busy doing laundry and trying to get ready to leave. I'd hoped to have a small Winter Solstice ritual here at home, but it was not to be, and I don't expect I'll be engaging any while we are away. I will, however, be saying a few prayers to the Goddess upon takeoff tomorrow evening. I hate hate hate flying, and the past two experiences flying into New Orleans were, shall we say, a bit rough. Still, I'll be happy to be visiting this magical city again, and visiting with family (to include one new baby) in Lafayette and the surrounding areas.

I hope everyone had a blessed Winter Solstice today, and that whatever holiday you celebrate, the season finds you well, prosperous in all the ways you want to be (harming none, of course), and content with whatever life is offering you today!

Dancing with Life

I've been exploring lots lately, delving into my Jewish roots, reading all I can about the more mystical aspects of Judaism, as well as the reasons behind many of the traditions and how they can connect one to the Higher Power. I've been enjoying this, because I don't want to lose my connection to this beautiful religion, don't want to neglect the gift of passing this knowledge to my daughter. At the same time, neglecting the Goddessy, more Pagan aspect of my life was throwing me into a depression of sorts. My altar was well past being adorned with the accutrements of the appropriate season, with nary a candle burned down. I haven't been to the local UU Church at least three months, and I miss the women I've met there at study groups. In short, neglecting the Goddess in consort with the God has wreaked more havoc in my life than I'd previously imagined possible. It was only after I'd made the decision to deck my altar with a holly bough, red and green candles, a Yule angel and snowman, and a sparkly red altar cloth that I realized the cause of my depression. It occurs to me that maybe that is part of the problem with society as well. Isn't the Goddess aspect of diety largely missing from Judao-Christian religion? Sure, Judaism has the feminine aspect of God in the form of the Shekinah, and Catholicism gives props to the Blessed Virgin. This is different from speaking to and identifying with diety in a balanced, male/female way, though. For most people, God is still male, and rarely is it that people notice the spirits which exist in the natural world, such as the spirits of the great woodlands that I so love. I know that for me, as I lay my head on my pillow tonight, my heart and spirit will rest with the Great Spirit in a more balanced way. I have greatly missed the magickal world. I'm glad to be back.

On Being a Mom

I once heard that being a mom comes naturally, that once you step into the role, you just do what you need to do out of instinct. I think someone told me that to ease my worries, but I have found it to be not completely true. And, believing that every other mother in the world must know how to raise a child more effectively than I did caused me further worry. While the nurturing aspects of motherhood did come very easily for me (I was the type of mother who was talking to her child in the womb-before she even had ears), the organizational aspects did not. It has taken me every minute of these past nearly six years to arrive at the point that I'm at now, many of those minutes filled with fear and anxiety over how I could never get my child anyplace on time, how I could never seem to do enough to energize her mind, etc., etc., etc. I believe that most mothers agonize over these issues, but I truly feel that when it comes to being an organized, on time, full throttle mommy, it's taken me more time than the average bear to get the hang of this thing.

As a child, I was a laid back soul. Moving into the teenage years, I pretty much kept up that aspect of my personality, to the point that I began having difficulties getting to places on time. I particularly struggled with this in college, though some of that was linked to problems with anxiety. The other part of it, the habit that followed me after I graduated, was an inability to stay focused on my goals for the day. I am so easily distracted that, if I'm not careful, I will spend four hours puttering around our home when I should be somewhere else. The problem today is that I have a little girl who counts on me to get her to classes and field trips and movies and everyplace else on time. When I fail in this I feel I've failed her, and that hurts very deeply. Therefore, when the secular year broke into 2010, I made a resolution (in spite of the fact that I'd previously made a resolution not to make resolutions) to start being on time, not just for my daughter's engagements but for mine as well. I hate being late; it causes me stress and upsets the people who are waiting for me. And I hate not being organized as well, because if I don't start the day off on the proverbial right foot and early, there is no way I can accomplish everything I'd like to (or need to) in the hours I have ahead of me, and I spend the duration of those hours rushing around like a mad woman. This is not comfortable for me or my daughter, and it leaves me with scant time to play with her and just enjoy those special moments that happen during the day. Little things like wild flowers on the side of the road during a stroll (my daughter loves picking a few and giving them to me to put into water when we get home), watching that cool way our dog tips his head to the side when I ask him if he wants to go for a walk, nuzzling my cat's neck, pausing to check out my daughter's newest artistic creations, are all precious moments that don't occur quite the same way twice. We miss so much of the good stuff when we're stressed out because we wasted away time earlier in the day and are struggling to catch up.

Now, six years or so into motherhood, I feel like I'm beginning to relax into a comfortable rhythm, and to be okay with letting go of that bohemian type of existence. I've taken my daughter to a couple of events this week and we were on time for both and unstressed when we left our home because I allowed her enough time to wake up slowly and not rush through breakfast. I'm exploring fun things we can do over the rest of the summer and beyond, and looking forward to the coming homeschool year with nervous anticipation. I'm loving following a schedule of sorts (while I love eating dinner at 6:00pm, I haven't always been very good at getting dinner on the table for that time). I'm beginning to learn the skills that both my mother and grandmother seemed to magically possess. We were always out of bed on time, in bed sleeping on time, eating dinner on time, at roughly the same point on the clock every day. There was a continuity and rhythm to life that I remember finding security in. Of course, there is always wiggle room for special occasions and those days when life doesn't quite work out the way we've planned it. But there is also the comfort of knowing that yes, we will be able to make that 10 a.m. appointment on time, or being fairly sure that we will be eating dinner before 8:00 p.m. I will always be the artist, the creative soul, the somewhat free spirit. Today, though, I'm also a Mom. That's the most precious role I've ever played, and I intend to fill it with as much gusto as my body, heart, and soul can muster.

Time to Draw!!! Yay!!!!

My daughter's next door friend came over today, and they decided to have a craft day. They spent the day happily creating "aliens" from spoons, gluing weeds onto paper and creating picture gardens, and harvesting straws from juice boxes to create something I have yet to view.

This semi-free time meant that I, too, could create, and I gladly pulled out colored pencils, reference materials, and the drawing I've been working on. I've now completed the drawing phase and began laying down color.

I've been pleasantly amazed at the little spaces of time that have opened up here and there over the past few months. I've gone from not drawing at all to experiencing small (and sometimes large) chunks of time wherein I can create to my heart's content. I cherish it, especially after so much time away from doing my artwork on anything approaching a regular basis.

I can't help but wonder if buying that pad of Bristol board and forming a conscious and very definite decision to create has anything to do with my newfound "art time". When I purchased that pad, I knew I'd use it; somehow, the act of buying felt like it contained a tiny spark of magic. Since that day, I've decided on a series I'd like to create, and the time to work on it has been popping up, not everyday but enough to make me feel a bit more complete.

Magic isn't always about spells and organized rituals. It's something that can happen everyday, as we put heartfelt intention into our actions. It's an everyday part of life, if only we remain open to seeing it.


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On Healthy Eating...

This morning I pulled on a pair of my favorite capris, only to find that they seemed to be quite a bit tighter than they were when last I wore them. I told myself that they were simply tight from being washed, but that fantasy has worn off, since now, a few hours later, they still feel tight. Oof.

I knew this day was coming; I've been noticing a little extra belly going on when I get undressed at night. I just didn't think things had gone quite this far. Now, it's time to start working out three times a week again (like I used to do before I started becoming the queen of workout slacking), start eating healthier, and start managing my portions better. I have no interest in becoming a size 2 runway model wannabe. At any rate, it would be impossible for me; I'm 5'5" and my bones would not allow me to be a size 2. Ever. Even when I was in junior high school I was a size 6, and I was thin then, and not fully matured in the hip department. What I would like is to be my ideal weight and shape, slim but curvy. This should be an achievable goal to reach, without the need for crazy, unhealthy dieting or questionably safe pills. I'm not willing to make myself sick for the sake of losing weight, and I don't mind if it takes time to get to where I want to be, so long as it happens eventually (though I'd like to start seeing results sooner than later). Tomorrow morning, I will get up at 5am and drive to the gym, just like I did on Friday. And, I will battle my sugar addiction in earnest!

Wish me luck, please...

Diversity

Over the recent fourth of July weekend my family and I took a vacation to St. Augustine, Florida. The trip is only a five hour jaunt for us, and we have friends living there who we hadn't seen in about two years, and just getting out of town for a few days felt like a necessity. We hadn't taken a family vacation in quite some time, and the bonding that can occur during such journeys was something we joyfully anticipated. While we were on our way to enjoy brunch at the Casa Monica, my sister in law phoned to tell us my husband's father had suffered a stroke while at the nursing home visiting with my mother in law. This was sad news and very unexpected, as to all appearances he was healthy as an ox and had been active up to that point, playing tennis with friends on a regular basis as he has for many years. As I type, he has been moved from intensive care and is engaging in rehabilitation, but he has not yet regained his speech, other than to say "yes" and "no" and he is frustrated, as are we. This news cast a sadness over the day, but we browsed the funky downtown shops and art galleries with our friends and tried to move forward into the next day with a more cheerful outlook. We took a trolley ride around downtown St. Augustine and then, later, watched the fireworks sparkling over the fort which overlooks the water. The city put on a beautiful show, though I'm not sure if our little ones had more fun watching the fireworks or chasing each other around with the new light sabers our friend purchased for them at a kiosk close by!

One part of the trip disturbed me a bit. Downtown St. Augustine boasts some beautiful old churches, and my husband, being the good Catholic boy that he is, wanted to attend a service in one of them. Since a mass was being held at around 5:00pm, we decided to attend that one, since we knew that Sunday morning the church would most likely be crowded and we would most likely not be rising very early. While his faith is not mine, I can usually pull some useful morsel of spirituality out of whatever service I am attending, so long as my mind is open enough to do so. The key to this is listening for the words that touch my heart, and disregarding some of the theology with which I disagree. On this day, however, doing this was nearly impossible. The priest in residence spent most of the sermon talking about how our country was founded on Christian beliefs, how in the early days only Christians were allowed to hold positions in governmental offices (and he spoke these latter words as if this was a good thing), how we should fight against the legality of abortion (I don't take abortion lightly but feel that making it illegal is extreme and wrong and sets a dangerous precedent). It seemed that every word he spoke resounded with the idea that Christians are somehow superior to the rest of us, which struck me as highly arrogant and distasteful. At one point, when he talked about the former requirement of Christianity being one's religion if one wanted to hold a position in the political arena, I could not resist speaking aloud (though quietly) that such an idea didn't seem very fair to me. I'm sure that a few of the people around me heard what I said, though nobody gave me any dirty looks. I noticed that a small number of people left the mass before it was over, though I'm not sure what their reasons were. When I was in college, I read extensively about religion, as well as feminism. I've read things about the early days of Christianity (and Catholicism in particular) that made my skin crawl-forced conversions, abuse of people of other faiths, etc. Most recently, the Catholic church has been blamed for sexual abuse and has admitted to having knowledge that they counted some "troubled souls" among their ranks-people who should not have been allowed anywhere near children. I'm not here to bash Catholics or Christians. What I am saying is that it bothers me intensely when anyone of any particular religion tells me that their way is the only pathway to God, the only right way to practice spirituality. There are many spiritual traditions in the world, many paths to the Higher Power, the Creator, or whatever you personally call your deity or deities of choice. I wish that people would do a little more research before they start belittling the religions of others. If they'd delve a bit more into history, into the history of religion specifically, they might open their minds to the sameness rather than the differences (which is what I try to do when I attend a service such as this one). Recently, I read that the Egyptians actually included a tree of life in their theological beliefs, and the there is some evidence that the Israelites carried some Egyptian spiritual beliefs with them as they formed their own monotheistic religion. When one delves a bit, one might discover how religion has evolved, how many of the traditions practiced today were borrowed from other spiritual paths. Similar mythologies can be found carried through different religions with slight alterations.

In the end, I said a silent prayer of my own and slogged through the rest of the service (the longest I'd ever been to, it seemed). At one point, the congregation sang a song based on the prayer of St. Francis, which I find to be beautiful and which made me feel somewhat better. I returned home with a renewed sense of gratitude for the friends I've who share my own spiritual beliefs, as well as the friends of different faiths who don't belittle me for not believing exactly what they do. Concentrating on the values we share and accepting our friends for who they are is important if we wish to move through this world as peaceful warriors.

Blessed be.

Never Too Late to Start Over

I woke up this morning, sleepy but determined to make it to the gym to work out. Having gone twice last week, I feel like I'm getting back into the swing of things and don't want to lose that momentum. Summer is calling, and her hot, humid arrival also heralds the season of shorts and bathing suits and all sorts of articles of clothing which leave me desirous of less jiggley thighs. So, up I rose at 5:05 a.m. (I always allow myself one "snooze"), outfitted myself in the appropriate workout duds, and promptly walked smack into a wall in our hallway. Because the outside light had been turned off (Hub and I often war over this- I turn it on, he turns it off), the hallway was as dark as a tomb this morning. After cursing profusely and checking my nose to make sure it wasn't broken, I headed out the door. As I headed toward the end of our street I wondered if running would cause my nose to swell further, but decided the risk was worhwhile. I waited and waited and waited for the red light to change, then noticed that it was cycling around without giving me a green. At that point, I began to wonder if the powers that be were trying to tell me something. Was a crazed gunman going to attack the YMCA this morning? Should I turn the car around and head back home to my warm bed and my darkened hallway? I jammed a right turn into the intersection and made a u-turn, continuing to the gym.

After the offbeat start to the day, I'm happy to report that I had a great workout. I ran two miles and even managed to clock about 30 minutes with the weights without hurting myself or anyone else. I returned home with a much better outlook than the one with which I'd left, and I've no doubt this attitude will carry me through whatever else the day has waiting in the wings for me. Exercise always takes the edge off my tendency for depression; it leaves me with more patience and tends to grind away all of my rough edges. I'm glad I remembered that, at any moment, we can begin our day anew. A few mishaps do not a day make.

Now, off to have the days first cup of coffee!

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Dog Appointments, Lunch Dates and Girl Scouts

Today was not one of those exciting days, but we did take the dog for his yearly visit to the vet, lunched at Burger King (for a long, long time- never underestimate the ability of a small child to savor every single morsel of a kids' meal), and registered for Girl Scouts. While I was very excited about Spiral Scouts, interest in our local group seems to have disappeared. I have finally resigned myself to the idea that the group isn't going to continue. Had interest been shown in keeping it going, I would have stepped up to the plate and helped to lead the group, but I'm loathe to spend all sorts of time trying to organize events just so that no one can show up. I know that this happened to the previous leader, and I can understand the frustration she must have felt even if she never voiced any complaints. I don't know much about our local Girl Scouts group; I will know more once they contact me.

On a magickal note, we are now in the waxing phase of the moon, which is a great time for starting new projects as well as moving forward with things that are already happening. I always feel like I have just a little bit more "oomph" at this time of the month, and I intend to take advantage of the energy boost! My work on the Goddess series continues; the Gaia peice is read for color and I am very excited about that. With life being so wonderfully full it has been difficult to fit creative time into my life, but my soul needs it. I lose a certain amount of serenity when I'm away from creating art for too long. Having made the decision (with a little encouragement from loved ones who are probably tired of dealing with the crazy, artistically bereft me) to make the time to create, it seems that time does appear here and there. It's up to me to recognize those spaces in time when they appear and get to work!



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The Best of Intentions

One thing I've learned during our short time of homeschooling is that flexibility is important. As is determination, the ability to set goals and a certain amount of organizational skill. Flexibility, however, is key to homeschooling if one wants to make it through a whole school year with sanity intact and hair still attached to head. Of course, writing these words does not make me proficient in any of the above mentioned traits. Our life is a constant work in progress; some days flow along like a lazy river, while others tumble and splash like rapids in a canyon. Today was one of those Mississippi river mud days; I had big dreams, but my feet were moving slowly, and it seemed like fate was not hip to the idea of me accomplishing much with my little one. We flowed for brief moments, and I'm happy that we did some work, but it was tough going. My little one hemmed and hawed about sitting at the table. My husband didn't have any work to do today and was home on the couch with the television-a distraction to my daughter and I both- beaming forth program after program into our living room, the volume too loud to be ignored. There was an interesting show on the History Channel about early humans, and I did learn something from it, so I suppose there was some value to watching it. My daughter, though, wasn't really interested and so the educational value of the program was lost on her five year old mind. At some point, after we'd managed to work through a few pages in the Kindergarten Basics book (I'd opted to teach from a low frustration workbook today, thankfully), the Hub suggested that we let Little One watch a movie. Glancing outside and noticing that that thunder which had been threatening for the past few minutes had finally given way to a garden quenching downpour, I relented. I'm happy with what we accomplished, even if it occurred with a bit of struggle and in a haphazard sort of way.

Now, I'm pondering the value of homeschool organizers, flipping through web page after web page, searching for that perfect planner which will organize our lives and turn me into the Martha Stewart of the homeschooling community. I know that this won't happen. I know that part of homeschooling is accepting that life is usually more like organized chaos than perfectly ordered bliss. But I can dream.

Everyday Life

I've been working a lot recently on getting my family and I onto some sort of schedule. I'm not trying for a hard and fast schedule, mind you, but rather some sort of comfortable routine. Being a rather undisciplined and bohemian type of person, if I allow myself too much leeway I tend to find that I begin to fritter away more and more time and accomplish less and less of what I really want to get done. When one is homeschooling this can be an even worse affliction, since my daughter isn't going to learn anything if I don't spend the time teaching her. Frustrated with my many attempts to organize our lives, I began making lists recently. For whatever reason, if I write goals down I go crazy inside if I don't fulfill them, so doing this is a great way to ensure that I will accomplish most if not all of what I set out to do (in my mind) at the beginning of the day. Over the past week this has been working out quite well (much to my pleasant surprise). I've been finding the time to get the business work done, homeschool with our daughter, take care of the animals (which reminds me that I still need to feed our chickens-drat!), keep the house reasonably clean, and get meals onto the table more or less on time. I still have a long way to go, but our life this week was much calmer than normal; I did not find myself racing around in a tizzy because I was late to go someplace or was rushing to do something that I was supposed to get done the day before. I didn't have any creative time, I haven't blogged in days, and our extracurricular activities have been lagging, but I'm hopeful that if I was able to improve this much, I can continue moving forward toward where I want to be.

Now, off to feed the chickens.

Hassled by the Man

I know that the above title is silly, but it describes how I feel in a fairly accurate way. Lately, my view of the way the police around here operate has become a bit soured, and since venting usually helps me to feel a little better, I'm venting now.

Recently, my husband and I were visited by a local detective claiming that my husband was seen by a woman at a nearby golf course stealing practice mats (whatever those are). Apparently, when N went to the course to practice about three weeks ago, said woman called the police and related to them that he looked like someone she saw leaving the scene of a crime that was committed at the course (or something like that-I have not been privy to the top secret elements of the case). While they apparently did not approach my husband that day at the course, they did see fit to visit our home a short while later, thus ruining my afternoon and leading me to wonder how practice mats could pose such a big deal as to waste so much of the taxpayers' money. I understand that leads must be followed, etc., but the way this detective was going on and on one might have been lead to believe the things were undercoated in gold. Once I managed to obtain enough information from the officer to understand exactly what he was telling me, I realized that my husband was with me, our daughter, and his cousins from Germany on the day in question. The whole day. I related the details of the day to the detective, but his desire is that we produce some sort of receipts for the places we visited. To date, I have yet to recover any receipts-quite vexing as my husband usually leaves receipts for anything and everything all over the house. In spite of my searching, however, I have come up dry and frustrated and wondering what is going to transpire next. Obviously, this woman did not see my husband steal anything, nor did she see him at the golf course on the day the real perpetrator lifted the apparently coveted practice mats from the country club. Rather, she saw somebody who looks similar to my husband, driving a truck that looks similar to his. The truck my husband drives is one of the more popular models; there are many grey trucks on the road of this particular model and make. I have actually seen such a truck being driven by a man who looks similar to my husband driving around town, but I declined relating this to the cop as it sounds a bit too convenient, even if it is true.

This incident has left me wondering how many other people have been wrongly accused and even arrested for acts they did not commit, simply because someone was sure they saw them at some particular scene. It is extremely frightening to me that a person could be harassed in this way simply on the word of a person who obviously is not sure what or who she saw. The fact (as related to me by the officer) is that they don't have anyone else to bother, so they are running wild with a bad lead. It doesn't matter that I have a time stamped photograph of my husband someplace else on the afternoon of the day in question, or that I can account for him being with me for every hour of that day, nor does it matter that these mysterious practice mats were not located anywhere on our property. I'm lead to wonder if I'm going to need to do my own detective work, perusing pawn shops to find out if anyone has pawned the things and, if so, whether video cameras will reveal the actual thief. I also wonder who's out there catching the real bad guys, and how many other people are in the midst of being knee deep in a sand trap not of their own making due to the bad reporting of some overzealous employee.

And Tiger thought he had problems.

No More Scouts?

I received word today that our Spiral Scouts group, which hasn't been very active as of late, might be coming to an end. This saddens me; it's been nice to be in such a group, around other Pagan parents. It was good for my little one to be around the other kids and provided her with a fun outlet in the midst of our homeschooling routine. There is the option of someone else taking over the group, but I'm not sure I'm up for the task. I have so much on my proverbial plate right now and, since our group has not been very active to begin with, I'm not sure I will have the time needed to kick the group into gear. So, I'll have to wait and see what happens!

A Girl and Her Dog

About a year ago, my husband and I decided it was time to get a dog. We had the house with the fenced in yard, the small child, the cozy family setting; all that was missing was a canine companion. While this began as a rather benign endeavor, the search for a pet became the basis for some of the only real battles my husband have ever had with one another. We argued about where we would adopt a dog from (I had dreams of adopting some poor unloved dog from the animal shelter, while my husband wanted to go straight to a breeder), where the dog would live (I said inside, he said outside-I was not willing to budge on this issue), what the dog's role would be in our lives. Some of these arguments became quite heated, but finally we agreed on a particular breeder (I liked the family who raises the dogs as they seemed to truly care about them and love them, and had many of their own) and began the search. In the midst of this chaos, a close friend advised me that my husband and I wanted a dog in our lives for different reasons. She'd observed a need in my soul that nobody else could fill. For my husband, the main reasons were protection of our home and child. I wanted the dog for these reasons as well, but there was something deeper at play here. I needed a canine companion for the sort of friendship one only enjoys with a dog. I'm not even sure I realized how true this was, or in what ways, until he came into our lives, all ears and paws. What I do know is that at some point, I gave in to the Universe and said a little prayer to the Goddess, asking her to bring us the dog we were supposed to have in our lives.

Sweet, beautiful Bacchus!!! He offers me love even if I'm grumpy and tired and unsociable to anyone else. He wakes me up in the morning with wet nose nudges and slurpy kisses at our bedside. Occasionally, he nibbles on toys and shoes and pieces of the wall that he isn't supposed to eat, but looking into those soulful brown eyes I can't stay upset with him for very long. I understand that he has doggie needs and instincts, just as he seems to understand that I have people ones which are sometimes equally as unpleasant. He has taught me that sometimes staying in the moment is the best way to live, that savoring the little things in life can bring one great joy and peace. Take today, for instance.

The news was a sea of sadness, with a few happy events peppered here and there like small beacons too tiny to bring light to the rest of this vast, dark ocean. School violence, domestic murder (as I type, two husbands stand accused of murdering their wives and a young girl lies in a hospital bed with possible brain damage because she was assaulted at school by another student), and more foolish educational bills were just a few of today's topics. So, when N decided to take Little One to the beach for an ice cream, I made the decision to take Bacchus for a long walk someplace we haven't wandered before. No sooner was the front door firmly closed and my little family on the road, when I looked at my big white dog and said the magic words,"Do you want to go for a walk, little boy?" Of course, what he heard probably sounded something like the teacher in those Charlie Brown cartoons: "Wha wha wha wha wah walk wah wah?" It doesn't matter. At the sound of the word "walk", he cocked his head to the side like he does when I've said something to grab his curiosity, then jumped up from his spot in the kitchen and bounded over to me. I quick buckle of the leash and out the door we went, happily wandering. When we were out there on the street, I wasn't thinking about much of anything other than how happy he seemed to be, how brightly the sun was shining, how wonderful the breeze felt on my face and in my hair. For just a little while, life was only about whatever patch of road we were standing at, whatever sights we were taking in. Dogs have a way of making us feel grateful, of helping us to realize that when we do something good for someone else (in this case, him) we also enjoy the benefit of feeling good, sometimes of feeling great.

In Celtic mythology, white animals appear often in a mystical context. Sometimes they are ferocious (as in a white boar), sometimes they are tragic (as in the story of King Lear and the Swans), sometimes they are gentle and beautiful, sometimes they are powerful. For this Celt, I asked for a dog companion who would be more than just a pet; who would be a walker on the path with me. And the result was purely magical.

Life Changes and Changes Us

Just yesterday, I was in my room in Westwood, a can of Aquanet in one hand, a hairdryer in the other, spraying my hair into some unnatural position and getting ready for a night of fun with some longtime friends. My grandparents were alive and well and watching television downstairs; my aunt was nearby, watching television in either the living room or her bedroom and resting after a long day at work. The night was wide open and so was I, ready for whatever those glamorous, dark hours of the day would bring. Ah, to be so young and free!

Fast forward several years, and here I am living in Florida. My Grandparents have both passed, though my aunt still lives in the same house, a house I still consider to be my home and in which I always feel comfortable and welcome. I shun hairspray vehemently, don't have time for excessive hair drying and am usually sleepy by 8:00 p.m. How life has changed! I was reflecting on how dramatically my daily routine has been altered, especially over the past five or so years, while attempting to drink my morning coffee around the cat I'm watching for a friend (she's a very sweet cat, but has no concept whatsoever of personal space). The day began with my husband and I waking up and attempting some of that husband and wife intimacy that usually falls largely by the wayside once children enter the picture. Somehow, it always seems to me that our daughter possesses some inner radar which alerts her the second a kiss is exchanged between N and me. This morning was no different; suddenly, a little head appeared at the foot of our bed and a soft thud could be felt as she sprung up onto the mattress to join us. Whoosh! That illusive bird of lust and loving caresses was rousted from her perch and she flew off into the great blue yonder with an alarmed screech. Intimacy prevailed, but it was altered from that of husband and wife to that of cuddly family. Still delicious and wonderful, but not at all the same. Moments later, N sprung up to get ready for work and, after snuggling with our little one for a time that never seems to last long enough, I followed his lead, wandering out to the kitchen while silently praying that he'd put the coffee on (he had). The morning hours are usually my quiet time, the portion of the day when I prepare my lists and ground and center. I like to enjoy breakfast, sip my coffee and do a little reading (the only reading I will have time to engage in until bedtime, when I will probably be too tired to read more than a paragraph before falling asleep with the book on my face). This morning, after N left, I commenced my usual routine, only to be interrupted by our little one, who was now wide awake way too early and ready to take on the world. In sheer desperation, I turned on cartoons; bad, I know, but the only way I could be assured of any peace at all for a short period of time. While this is not a fail safe option (every few minutes her sweet face would appear at the kitchen table to report the goings on of Mi How Kai Lan), it does help a little. If I don't have this quiet time, I'm a bear for the rest of the day, which makes me an ineffective and dreadful Mommy, so a few cartoons are sometimes just what the Mommydoctor ordered. Two loads of laundry have already been almost completed, another swishes around in the washing machine, a day of schoolwork lies ahead of us, the chickens still need to be fed, and the dog is pacing because he desperately needs a long, adventurous walk. Guilt is plaguing me like Edgar Allen Poe's raven because I have decided to take a few minutes of creative time to write, but I've realized lately that it's important to take these moments here and there, even if it means showering and getting dressed at speeds that would rival Buzz Lightyear.

The wonderful and interesting thing is that, with all of this mayhem and madness spinning my life into delightful chaos (and sometimes not so delightful chaos-ahem), I have found more peace than ever in the things that ground me-reading, writing, artwork, and stolen conversations with my husband and with friends. I find that I'm grateful for the life my life is now filled with and sometimes taken over by, for the happiness I glean from my husband, daughter, and animal companions. The free spirited me still dances below the surface of my being, but she's more rooted nowadays, less free floating and carefree because I have so much to care about, so many to care for and so many who care for me.

And so, to quote a line from the movie, Hitch: "So how does it happen, great love? Nobody knows... but what I can tell you is that it happens in the blink of an eye. One moment you're enjoying your life, and the next you're wondering how you ever lived without them."

Reflections on Family

We spent a great weekend hanging out with my husband's family from Germany-his cousin and her teen-aged daughter. We went for dinner one night at a restaurant on the Dania Beach Pier, spent a day at Holiday Everglades Park enjoying an air boat ride through the Everglades and an alligator show (being on vacation in Florida, they wanted to see some alligators before they headed back home), then went to South Beach that night to have dinner and see the sights (it was a mob scene and I will be reluctant to return to Miami until the crowds have thinned a bit-way too much testosterone floating on the ocean breezes). Yesterday I whipped up a big pot of pasta, my Nana's famous (in our family, anyway) chocolate chip Mandelbrot and a salad, and we all ate dinner together, happily immersed in conversation about everything under the sun. When it was time for them to leave, my daughter was so unhappy with parting. She really enjoyed spending time with family, and I felt so sad for her that she doesn't have too many occasions to experience that. When I was a child, I took it for granted that I was surrounded by family. Every holiday was an occasion for us to gather, eat yummy food, laugh together, and catch up on the daily events of our lives. Nowadays, these get-togethers are relegated to a couple of times a year (more, if we're very lucky). I see my Mom about once a year, and my heart breaks when the time comes for us to board the airplane and head back to Florida, not only for myself but for our daughter, who I wish could have a closer relationship with her (as I did with my own Grandmothers).

Family connects us to our roots. When I was sitting at our kitchen table, watching our little one interact with her cousins, I was struck by how great it was for her to have the chance to do so-she was connecting with family who still live in a place of her genetic origin, who are still rooted to that land, the way my great grandparents were rooted to Ireland or Amsterdam. I examined their faces for traces of recognition: could that curve of chin be the same as my daughters? I was raised with the belief that family is intensely important and that our links to one another are priceless, and I carry that belief with me to this very day. That said, many days I find the separation to be painful and difficult. I wonder if this physical distance will always exist between myself and my own family and I try not to dwell on those thoughts because I can't find resolution there. Still, I look forward to visiting Massachusetts this summer, to seeing the beautiful, familiar expanse of coastline as the plane makes its way closer to my birth home, to finding myself once again in the arms of those I love who are usually so far away. I have the gut feeling that I belong there; my spirit feels at home in that environment more than it does anyplace else, though it took me time away to realize that this visceral link existed. Deep within myself, there lives a feeling that I will not be far away from this land indefinitely, but that conviction brings about its own fears. I can't imagine a happy scenario that would bring my family here up to Massachusetts, and leaving here would invite sadness as well, the sorrow at leaving friends and the places that have become familiar over the past several years. I suppose I need to find trust in the Great Spirit, go about my daily life trying to do the right thing, and simply bask in the wonders of the here and now, as I try to do every day.

I once read that deep within the heart of many an immigrant lives the spirit of longing for home. The Universe hears this cry and tries to respond, as it does to many of our thoughts, both conscious and subconscious. I only hope that the answers I receive are rooted in balance and happiness for all.

(Perhaps I should have labeled this post "melancholy Monday"?)

And into the Weekend With Us!!!

With the Easter (for me Ostara) weekend upon us and a kid's birthday party and swimming lessons to attend tomorrow, I imagine the next couple of days will be hectic. My husband has family visiting the States from Germany; we hope to visit with them on Sunday and enjoy a nice dinner with them before they leave for home on Tuesday. I'd imagined cooking a magnificent roast but probably will resort to some sort of pasta dish for the sake of time. It is not my wish to spend the entire day in the kitchen on Sunday and, as I have a tendency to overburden myself (the result of a highly excitable and imaginative mind, possibly), I will most likely have enough food to make as it is. I'm planning a matzoh ball soup and my Grandmother's chocolate chip Mandelbrot, a salad, some sort of bread, and the pasta dish. This should be enough food to provoke a pleasant food coma after dinner but not so much that any is wasted. I usually cook enough to feed a small army and then regret it later for the amount we don't eat.

Anyway, with the arrival of spring, I've been thinking about magic. Not just the magic of spells, potions, incense, and candles, but the magic that happens every day-the blessing of spring flowers pushing themselves forth from the moist earth, the call of songbirds and the whisper of warmth in the air. Since I live in South Florida, spring is not as pronounced as it was when I lived up north, but there are still signs of its presence to be felt, subtle though they be. This winter, nature was very kind to us (though not so kind to the iguanas and other non-native species who were unable to withstand the prolonged cold spells we experienced this year). We were treated with chilly nights and breezy, cold days-real winter days, minus the zero temperatures and the snow. The chill extended well past its usual visitation (if we even have a visit from the cold-some winters we barely notice that the "cold season" is upon us), and, even now, the temperatures are mild and very spring-like. While I know that soon the humidity will descend upon us like a warm, wet blanket and the sun will possess an intensity such as to sear the skin, right now the weather is beautiful and welcoming. The palm tree outside my window is dancing in a light breeze, accompanied by the very large mango beside it. A sweet breathe of air is passing through the shades of the office window, and all feels well in the world.

There is another kind of magic as well-the type that can be felt in a home but not necessarily seen. I think this sort of magic is born of a combination of things-the love everyone in our home shares with one another, remnants of spells which float on the air, residual energy from our home's previous owners (who seem to have been good, kind people and pillars of their community), the wonderful vibration of life which emanates from our animal companions. It's delicious and wonderful and I cherish that magic down to my soul. It makes me feel like I'm truly on the right spiritual path for me, and that the Goddess and God are blessing us and surrounding us with their divine love.

May you all have a blessed and happy weekend!

A Free Day and Some Time to Create

This morning, my daughter when on her very first outing without me, an adventure with "the girls" to have her toenails painted and then have lunch. Our next door neighbor, who I adore, took my little one, along with her own daughter and niece to the salon and then to the restaurant as part of a belated gift to her niece. Said niece really wanted to do something with just the two other girls, which I thought was sweet. Little one and I both had our moments of hesitation and sadness this morning. I'm not sure why that first separation is so difficult, but it was. My baby was going someplace fun and I wasn't going to get to see her enjoying it! The great thing about being a parent, however, is that we tend to instinctively know what's good for our children and to walk in that direction with them even when it means experiencing a little sadness on our part. When I say sadness, I don't refer to sadness as much as nostalgia. Our children pass through so many stages on their way to adulthood, each period arriving with its own unique sweetness and exiting with its own distinct bittersweet flavor. Ultimately, we nurture our kids so that they can learn how to fly on their own, even though every single stage of letting is accompanied by a pinprick (and sometimes a knife stab) to the soul. These wounds heal over quickly, of course, since in the deepest part of our hearts we long to see our children dance their dreams freely, to move forward with confidence in their own abilities and little fear, to come back to us with wonderful stories about the journeys they've taken and the sights they've seen.

And how did I spend the day, you ask??? First, I rushed to the post office to buy some stamps and mail off some bills which threatened to be late if left on the kitchen counter for one more day. Then, I came home and threw laundry into the washing machine. Then, finally, I settled down at the drawing table and began working once more on my latest (first, actually) Goddess piece. A few hours later, my soul feels just a bit more satiated, the artist within me a step happier. For an artist, creating is necessary in order for one to maintain sanity, but when we have children those creative times often are relegated to crafts with the little ones. While this is fun and satisfying in its own right, working on solitary projects is important as well. In fact, doing so is probably even more vital when one becomes a parent, since during the younger years it's easy to lose sight of who we are as individuals as we become more focused on our families and on the other important events that are swirling around us in a day to day tornado.

And so, with the day's sadness came more than a measure of deep joy. There was joy in greeting my beautiful one at the door when she came knocking with her friend, ready to show me her pretty, newly painted pink toenails. There was joy in the fact that she is secure enough in us as parents and in herself as a little person to have gone somewhere without me and had a rollicking good time. And, there was joy in the spirit quenching serenity of creating, of being able to actually be an artist today, instead of just claiming to be one.

Since the Last Time..

It's been awhile since I last posted. Since I last blogged here, I've gone around in circles spiritually, trying to find just the right blend between what I believe in my heart to be right for me spiritually while attempting to sprinkle in aspects of my families' diverse heritages. I've experienced some conflict in this area for many years, but have found that when it comes to matters of religion, one will never be happy or fulfilled if she/he is following a particular road to make others happy and/or more comfortable. I have, in all of my attempts to blend in with the faiths of those around me, found this to be the absolute truth. Today, I cannot blend. It's important to me to be true to myself, as well as true to those around me whose spiritual paths stray a distance away from the "normal", more accepted pathways.

The key to this shift was, for me, having the willingness to finally take action in my own life. Last year I began to meet various people in the Pagan realm, which helped me to feel less alone. I attended festivals, talked with Wiccan parents, perused the internet, read blogs of other Pagans. I felt a thirst that could not be quenched; the more people with whom I interacted, the more I wanted to meet other people who held beliefs similar to my own. Reading the blog of a popular Wiccan author, I longed to connect with a group of women the way that she did, to attend rituals under the moonlight, to talk about the Goddess, to connect on that level reserved for those walking the same path of spirit. This year, I finally attended a couple of ritual circles, and the experience was amazing. Solitary rituals are fulfilling and can be very power filled, but there is nothing quite as exhilarating as standing hand in hand under the soft light of a glorious full moon with a wonderful group of women, casting a circle around a bonfire and raising energy. Wow!!! While the shy side of me was just a tiny bit nervous the first time I walked into a room filled with other witchy women, I'm so glad I made that leap from reading about group rituals to actually attending a couple. I hope that this year will lead me farther in this direction; I would love to become closer with these women, to know the camaraderie and the special connection of working within a coven. I'm trying to move forward slowly, but already I'm thinking about asking the HP if I can study with her circle and work toward the Priestess path. Intuition tells me that this year is going to bring about lots of change (hopefully all of the positive variety). Change can be difficult, especially for a Virgo like me who prefers that everything in my life be ordered and for life to flow smoothly, devoid of too much conflict. I don't wish to manifest any negative events, but I know that moving in the direction I am might cause conflict in my personal life-maybe just a little, maybe a lot. How much chaos ensues will be partly dependent upon the choices I make, whether I'm willing to compromise here and there (I am), and how quickly I want to move forward.

Tonight, I'm just taking a deep breath and feeling blessed for having made it this far.

Magickal Workings and Sniffles

Today was a quiet Friday. My little one has a bad cold, complete with a scratchy cough and runny nose, so we took things slow today. This meant staying home, playing a bit, and a little time with her friend from next door. I considered whether or not I should let the friend over with all of these germs swirling around. After a moment I decided it would be okay. The little one isn't sick with anything more than a common cold, and kids get those all the time. In fact, I think my daughter caught said cold from said friend!

Magickally speaking, I did squeeze in a tiny bit of ritual today. I had some jewelry in bad need of recharging and a new ring I wanted to bless for the purpose of being my dedication ring. It is a beautiful triple goddess ring with a moonstone center- deliciously witchy but also subtle. It seemed an appropriate stone symbolically, and moonstone increases psychic sensitivity, which I'm working on. So, it was the perfect ring for more than one reason. My car also has been magickally adorned recenlty, with some decidely Pagan bumper stickers. I suppose I'm coming out in small ways.

Have a wonderful weekend!





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