New School Year, New Hopes

There's a big cardboard box in our living room filled with 5th grade books and activity kits. I'm still wondering how we've arrived at the 5th grade already, but I suppose every parent wonders such things. We never do seem to get an answer, but we cherish the moments with our kids and feel a little sad when they've passed. We celebrate their climb to adulthood but we mourn the gradual loss of childhood just the same. Truthfully, we hope that they can hold onto a few sparks of childhood wonder, because we never really outgrow those sparks and they will enrich our lives beyond measure

if we don't give the world permission to steal our joy. 

I'm a little bit afraid, as the new academic year looms a couple of weeks ahead of us.  I'm afraid that the character defects that I've been working on for the past several years will continue to dog me, preventing me from reaching the fullest potential I can both personally and with regard to my family. I'm afraid that I won't have enough time to squeeze in all the things I want to do with our daughter, in these years when urgency seems suddenly to be calling and every minute is like a rare jewel that will self destruct at some point, leaving only a memory of its luster and sparkle.  I'm afraid that I won't be able to teach her well, that I'll fail in my responsibilities to our homeschool groups. I'm afraid and melancholy over some major changes that are on the horizon, such as our girl's best friend since she was 5 years kid moving far away.  There has been so much moving around here. I long for the constancy of a more root cherishing place. I don't feel like I was designed for all of these good byes and all of this being left behind in the dust of other people's see you laters. My heart has broken several times this week over this last item. I know that things will work out, but I also know that it will be hard, and for more folk than just us. But I worry most about my girl.  

After we get home from our yearly trip to Massachusetts (bliss!), we'll begin the school year in earnest. This week, I'll clean our school room up some and try to organize the place so it's clean and inviting instead of schoolroom post apocolypse. As well, I'll start taking forward steps toward living life better, a day at a time.  

Breathe in love, breathe out peace.

Circles and Tribes

I sat in my long white car at an intersection not long after I returned to Florida, an aching in my heart threatening to push me into the abyss of depression again. The sun was shining down in magnificent rays all around me, the brilliance of late summer showing off her last hurrah before the Autumn equinox. All I could feel was sadness and suddenly I was absolutely not okay with that. 

"Help me," I whispered into the air around me, calling out to Diety, to God as Father, Mother, All. "Just help me, please."

I've realized, in the days following, that I need a tribe. I need to give and to receive, to dance and dream, to celebrate, to sorrow, to ritual with strong and wild women.  I understood this very clearly while I was visiting my home state. While reveling in the belongingness of home, I kept receiving messages to this effect, as well as messages that where I am is good, that life is progressing as it should and that if I engage with it fully things will be beautiful. I believed this in my soul because it felt like truth so very deeply. I felt the truth of it in the cells of my body, through the spiraling coils of DNA that help make me who I am. It felt right and wonderful. 

I returned home to rediscover that I am deeply in love with my husband. I found an indescribable joy in my animal family and in the bond that all of us, human and non-human, share as a loving, living unit. And still, I understand that I need a tribe of women to celebrate the turn of the year with, to dance in the moonlight with, to be sisters among. 

The depression arrived as it always does, suddenly and with vicious teeth. But I know it more intimately now; I understand that I'm not tending to my soul properly, and that sometimes spirit sickness is simply a way our souls communicate to us that change is necessary. 

No fear.

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Last Full Day in MA

It's hard to believe it's been nearly two weeks already. Two weeks of home. Two weeks of being someplace where I know who I am, where I feel the embrace of the land around me, where I know with definite certainty that there are people who love me. The only thing missing has been the Hubby and our animal family; they would complete the picture perfectly. 

I have spent the past year, since last year's trip home, trying once again to find my footing in Florida. I've done it by putting on the face everyone wants to see, by throwing myself into the business, homeschooling, and, here and there, into creative endeavors. There have been amazing, magical, and very blessed moments. Lots of them. But there have been dark ones as well. I have wrestled long with the dark times, and I can feel them whispering to me even now, when I'm trying just to focus on having a nice day, not to ruin our last complete day here with sadness and dread. It's difficult. 

We have tried hard to make it in Florida, and we have, to a certain degree, been very successful.  Over the last year, life has grown more complicated. We've always had dysfunctional people around us in our business, but as we've grown, we've experienced more the harmful effects of these people with respect to our personal lives and how much we can grow the company. And these people are in our home constantly, their energy mingling with the peaceful atmosphere I strive to keep in our home. I'm tiring of the work it takes to constantly clear out the negative. I don't want our business life this close to our personal lives anymore, but I don't see a division in the near future.  I'm tired of people I don't want in my personal space working in our yard, hacking at trees I want left alone, invading the one bit of private space I personally had left. There is nowhere to run to anymore to escape the madness. I can't even enjoy my morning coffee in peace anymore because people start coming to our house before the sun peeks over the horizon. 

South Florida is a place of transience. I seriously doubt the integrity of most construction contractors anymore, as a large part of our current financial stresses have arisen out of the dishonesty of the contractors we've been dealing with. Everyone here seems anxious to run over everyone else so that they can have more; there is very little loyalty. I feel this in the people who work for us as well. 

I didn't realize until I came back home to MA how much I've been raising walls to cope with life. Slowly, over the past two weeks, I've been able to return to myself, and to realize that I hate what Florida is turning me into. I'm not a cynical, bitter person. But I've been feeling a lot more like that over these past few, difficult months.  I have to go back tomorrow. But, aside from my Hub, dog, cat, and various animals, and the homeschooling that we need to dive back into, I don't want to. Not at all.

When Politically Correct is B.S.

I've been reading a lot lately about the shifting energies currently present in the Universe.  To some, this might seem like a bunch of hippy dippy new agey blah blah, but to me, if feels right on.  It seems lately that everyone is speaking their minds, sometimes at the expense of others' feelings. At the same time, I've been finding that more of the people I encounter, whether online or in real time, are becoming combative and downright nasty when they experience ideas contrary to their own.  Never in my life have I felt more under attack for the beliefs and ideologies that I hold near and dear. And never in my life have I felt the necessity to hold fast to those beliefs and ideologies, and to remain true to them, even if it means I might get a whole basket load of shit for having them.  I'm tired of people claiming to have tender ears when their mouths seem to be working just fine.  Conversation is a two way proposition, and though I generally try to stay out of attack mode, sometimes words rise and release before I've had a chance to think them through and emote from a place of lesser passion.

Though I usually consider they way in which I've spoken to another person if I've allowed my temper to flare, sometimes anger is an appropriate reaction, a response to someone who richly needs to be told that they are (in my humble opinion) out of line.  There are many religious schools of thought teaching us that snark is never the way to roll, but I'm beginning to believe that there are situations where a quick witted answer is just what the doctor ordered.  If nothing else, it sometimes earns me a laugh later on.    Of course, at times, the opposite is true.  If I'm attempting to win another person to my way of thinking, for example, I find it better to attempt a discovery of common ground before entering into heated debate.  The same is true if I know I'm not going to persuade the individual in question that my way is conducive to their own way of thinking, but desire some sort of mutual understanding.  Being sarcastic doesn't assist the debater in these types of dialogue.   Where it does sometimes feel right and good is when one person has become abusive to another person and needs to be informed, in a method leaving no room for doubt about the meaning behind one's words, that they should seriously re-consider their actions because what they are doing is not going to be tolerated.    Such was the case yesterday when I told someone who thought it was okay to look down on a struggling addict/alcoholic and say wise ass things to him or her that speaking in the tone and using the verbiage he'd selected  was a good way to get punched in the face.    I received a few approving glances and one semi-shocked glare, but for the most part everyone else in that room seemed to agree with me, and the words a few of them spoke later on affirmed this.  Maybe I've been in Florida for too long (I know I have been), but I'm fed up and tired of rude, thoughtless, back stabbing people who feel like they can be assholes with impunity.  And, when dealing in recovery, the words we speak can literally mean life or death for the person hearing them.   

I'm finished being a people pleaser for fear of having my heart broken over the truth.  Done. I will try to be diplomatic and kind, and I'll remember the concept of grace and try to walk the path of a peaceful warrior. But I'm not buying into the b.s. anymore. 

A Brand New, Smoky Monday

When we awoke this morning, the land was blanketed in a soft and very stinky smoke. At first glance, it appeared that there was fog hovering over the lake; we rarely see that sort of thing here but since I'm from New England, where fog is a fairly common sight, my first thought was that was what it was. As soon as I stepped outside, I realized that the "fog" was actually smoke, and a quick internet search revealed that fires were burning in the Everglades. The smoke was so bad in some areas that sections of highway had been temporarily shut down. A few unfortunate travelers were stuck waiting for the haze to clear so they could be on their way; they couldn't see in front of their vehicles to drive for the white smoke.  By this afternoon, the air had cleared considerably, but my throat is sore (in spite of my having spent very little time outside today) and the headache lingers.  So far, Sparkle Fairy hasn't complained, and hopefully she doesn't have any ill effects from the polluted air we experienced today.  This happens occasionally, when nature turns up the heat or the sugar cane fields are set alight, though the cane burning creates a blacker smoke.

Our weekend was interesting, a combination of Pagan and Christian activities.  On Saturday, we had Sparkle Fairy's kids' group, where I found out she is a dragon in this year's ending ceremony for her class. We love dragons around here!!!!  It was nice to be among like minded souls, but I'm a little sad that the class seems to be dwindling.  Some of the families who used to participate have moved away, while others are busy with unrelated activities.  The teens are all off doing teenager things and don't want to get up early on Saturday to go to the UU Church.  This year's Beltane turnout at the UU was meager, with fewer vendors and many of the familiar faces missing. Sparkle Fairy and I were among the only parents and kids who showed up to represent the Pee Wees group.  I don't know what's going on.  On Sunday, we had an open house for our neighbors' church school.  It actually wasn't too bad.  I don't have anything against what they believe in, I'm just not so into the absolutism.  Also, every time I wander away from my magickal lifestyle I miss it terribly.  As well, it's hard for me to see the Bible as the one and only book that gives us the word of God.  I mean, it was written by human beings, very fallible human beings, in a different time from the one we live in now.  There are some wonderful and not so wonderful ideas within those pages, and I'm not saying there isn't any divinity present within them, but I'm not so sure about the "one truth" bit.  I will confess to being in possession of a huge fondness for my Jewish roots and heritage, but get me in a group of rowdy Pagans and I feel right at home.  Maybe it's the free spirit in me; it's just  hard for me to be too confined, even if I do love the concept of grace and try to practice it in my daily life whenever I can.  I'm a work in progress as far as that's concerned.  I also feel deeply connected to nature, and feel it quite easy to communicate on some level with the wildlife in our yard (sparse as it might be), and my spirituality is intertwined with the natural order of things. 

Well, my eyelids are getting heavy, and tomorrow will be an early day.  Off to walk the doggie man and turn in for the night. 

 

Fa La La La Yule

The atmosphere in our house has finally become more festive. This took a bit of an effort on the part of Sparkle Fairy and me, as the Hub has been depressed over struggles with work.  I don't know why, but it is very difficult to find anyone here in South Florida who wants to work. I know such people exist, but when it comes to our business we have experienced very little luck in wooing them over to our doorstep.  I believe part of the issue to be the transient nature of this place. Lots of people arrive in South Florida with big dreams and little motivation, or dreams of lying on a sandy beach somewhere while the money they need to live magically rolls toward then on the waves.  That said, I personally know quite a few people in South Florida who are highly motivated and in possession of a fantastic work ethic, so I know they exist.  Maybe there are just fewer of them in the world of construction. But I digress.

This weekend, we sparkled up the Yule tree and the Hub strung more lights in the trees in our front yard.  He put up a few lights last week but I was secretly a bit disappointed that he didn't put out more.  Usually he gets excited and a little crazy and I'll walk outside to find him up on the roof trying to balance an inflatable Rudolph with a blow up Santa, a mad scientist expression on his face. This year's attitude is more subdued, but we've managed to tease some spirit out of him, and I'm glad for that.  

The heat has not subsided much to date.  While our nights are cooler and some days the temperatures are a wee bit lower, the 80+ degree weather seems reluctant to leave us.  My northern family and friends scoff at me when I complain, but I'm a northern girl at heart, and I've been down here for enough years to have cultivated a deep longing for changing seasons once again.  Of course, left for a week in weather that ventures into the 20's, I might start whining.  One is never sure, as we humans are prone to the romanticism of times and places past.  

This weekend at the ArtsPark there was a Christmas festival.  Our little family ventured over, albeit late, and listened to a very dynamic gospel band while watching people stroll past, some decked in Santa hats, others sporting face paintings from a booth that was offering them as well as balloon figures.  The music was a bit too much for me,  but if you were the sort to enjoy lots of "washed in the blood" types of lyricism, you'd probably enjoy it. For me, the trees in the park were the high point of the evening. The park at Young's Circle is home to some of the most amazing trees  I have seen in a long while.  I wonder how I'd forgotten about this; I complain about this area's lack of extensive forests while right down the street is a beautiful park containing trees that are truly magical.  Live oaks stretch their graceful arms in all sort of twisting directions, while Jacarandas grow thick and tall. At least, I think they're Jacaranda trees.  I need to do some research regarding that.  Walking between these trees on Saturday night, I could easily imagine picnicking beneath them with Sparkle Fairy, or reading a book stretched out on a blanket in the sheltering shade of their branches.  We truly do need to open our eyes and our hearts to witness the wonder around us.   

And a new weeks begins! 

A Hard Good-Bye Long Past

It's been almost a full year since the passing of my friend. The initial shock of her leaving has worn off, but the sadness and the missing of her has retained it's vigor.  This morning I was reviewing a gratitude list that I've been keeping for some time now. Nestled between the other entries was one that read, "Cooking in our kitchen with Lisa". I wrote that quite a long time ago- a couple of years ago, most likely- but I clearly recall that day. After the meal, we stood by the sink, me washing and her drying what couldn't be cleaned by the dishwasher.  She laughed as I told her I'd never been joined in the kitchen before. For her, growing up in an Italian family with siblings and other relatives present, partnering in the kitchen was commonplace. I enjoyed that day immensely.  I still think of it sometimes as I stand at the sink alone.  While I cook in the kitchen with my daughter often, it's rare for me to have another adult by my side. And because the kitchen is somewhat of a sacred space for me, that day with Lisa was doubly special. 

When I first had my daughter, Lisa was one of the few people I trusted to help me care for her. She helped me to find my voice at a time when I was still a bit shy and timid. Once, when we were at the beach, a grimy man who was stumbling about the broadwalk reached out to touch my then baby.  Lisa, admonished him immediately, telling him in her raspy voice, "Don't touch the baby with your dirty hands!"  I was grateful that she'd spoken up when my own voice felt so uncertain.  I have since grown and changed a great deal; I can hardly recognize the mouse I once was. But Lisa helped me to get to where I am now.   

For a new Mom, everything in life revolves around our new little one.  We accept this, usually without much thought, but appreciate it was someone thinks to do a little something for us too.  In my early days at home with wee Sparkle Fairy, Lisa would sometimes come by with a little something for us both. She might bring a toy or a trinket for the baby, and would give me a candle or some lotions. It didn't matter what the gift was; it just felt good to be considered, to receive that love.  

When Sparkle Fairy grew a little bigger, Lisa would sometimes babysit for her. Our daughter adored Lisa, and until recently would shy away from the mention of her name. It was difficult for her to acknowledge Lisa's death; she was a part of our girl's life from the beginning.  We have a ritual with potato chips- Lisa used to tell Rachel that the folded over chips were the best (aren't they though?!). They'd sit at our kitchen table, and when either pulled a folded chip from the bag, they'd hold it high in the air before chomping it down.  To this day, those potato chips are Auntie Lisa chips.  

The last time Lisa and I communicated, I told her I loved her and would see her when I got back to Florida. I could feel in my solar plexus that she was in some sort of trouble but she never told me what was going on.  I had no idea how sick she'd been, or that she'd almost died already over the previous months. I don't blame anyone but myself, really.  I'd distanced myself from her a little bit because I'd had some confusing experiences with her during which her addiction was fully in charge.  While I was familiar with the dynamics of addiction and could handle some of those painful moments, my daughter could not. I didn't want her to see Auntie Lisa at her worst. She was so beautiful at her best. I wanted my girl to know her for that. For the past year, I've regretted that I didn't find a better balance with this situation. While I don't have any false notions that my presence would have changed the course of her life (if she could have gotten well for anyone it would have been her daughter, but addiction doesn't care how much we love our family, or our friends), I do wish she'd been aware of my support for her. In my heart, I never gave up on her. To the last day, I held a shred of hope that she would be able to make the changes she needed to make in order to live.  It was not to be.

I miss her. 

Dancing With Dragonflies

Summer began to exert its full fury about a month ago. Suddenly, it's so hot outside that the act of breathing causes me to break a sweat. Some of the Moms in our home school group meet at the beach weekly and I have no idea how they handle this weather while sitting on a towel over hot sand. Even in the shade, 

the sweat runs in rivers down my body and I start to break out into hives. I guess my Irish skin was just not made for this type of climate. 

I've been thinking a lot about gratitude lately.  I keep a gratitude journal, and each day I try to add something to the list. The really wonderful thing about the act of writing this list is that most days I'll open the book thinking about one thing that sparked my gratitude but end up adding several more items beneath the original.  It seems that once we open our hearts to being thankful we throw  wide a doorway to awareness of many more beautiful things we might otherwise have missed.  Gratitude chases away my arch enemy, depression, which allows me more energy for hanging out with my daughter,  being creative artistically, exercising, and all sorts of other activities.   It's almost magical the way gratitude operates, but I have to live my day with eyes open to the awesomeness of the little things as well as the big.  A few days ago my heart was momentarily captured by the sight of dragonflies dancing over our back lawn. One in particular, a red dragonfly, caught my attention. Her iridescent wings and jewel like body sparkled in the sunlight and I felt privileged to be witness to her summer frolicking.  The enchantment of nature has the power to halt me in my tracks if I choose to take notice.  There is great healing there. 

And so, as Thursday rolls her doors open for business, may you notice the sparkling jewels in your day. Don't let them dart past unnoticed!!!

Roots

After experiencing a lovely July 4th weekend with friends and my own little family unit, I launched into a suckfest of a week.  The very sad thing about this is that as I write it's only Tuesday, and only halfway through Tuesday. We had a long weekend off from construction vehicles barreling down our street and the FPL "tree experts" hacking away at trees, the branches of which they would then feed into the tree chipper which they'd decided to park directly across from our front door. For a tree lover, few things grate on the nerves as much as the sounds of branches screaming as they're fed through that monster-like contraption.  There has been little peace in my heart over the past week since this began sometime around last Monday, and I think I'm close to my wit's end with the situation.  The noise and stress began afresh this past Monday.  As I drank my morning coffee I heard the trucks pulling up and the knot in my stomach re-knitted itself as I know they've been eyeballing the beautiful tree in our front yard with ill intention.  

Yesterday afternoon I pulled into the driveway after an uneventful trip to the supermarket.  I noticed that our neighbor was outside talking with another man; when he saw me roll into our yard he approached my car and asked if I'd talk with this tree person.  My heart surged briefly with hope that this guy might be able to clear some of our great tree's branches from around the lines without destroying the aesthetics of the tree. They were quickly dashed as he told me be wanted to lop off a huge branch for "the health of the tree". Nevermind that, as I pointed out, said branch is home to some baby birds, the parents of whom I've been watching defend for the past couple of weeks. I've come to be quite fond of those mockingbirds, and also quite protective. My neighbor, who is a vegan, should have been in my corner with this, but he just looked at me sympathetically and said nothing. Why is it that people are so enamoured with so called specialists? I do my own research with everything these days, as it seems that most of these "specialists" are interested more in making a buck than they are in actually doing the right thing. The tree guy, in a fashion typical of anyone who sees dollar bills suddenly flying away like feathers in a windstorm, launched into a dialogue of fear, shame, and sheer bully tactics at my negative response. These tactics rarely work on we stubborn and hard to intimidate New England girls. In true New England fashion, I told him I couldn't deal with anybody else's shit today and basically advised that he go fu*k himself.  I'm sure the neighbor was shocked and I'm mildly sorry about that, but I've been holding onto a shred of serenity lately that is supported by the nature in our yard, and as I feel that slipping away I'm not sure how to cope.  I ranted all the way into the house about how tired of this place I am and how happy I would be to move away. 

After this encounter, I did what every self respecting New England girl would do: I grabbed a mug of coffee and retreated into the sanctuary of our back yard, where I plopped onto the grass with our hen and cried my eyes out. Okay, New England style is generally to be tough, but sometimes a good cry can help us to sort out our deepest issues and then to move toward resolving them. So, there's some logic to that, and we New Englanders pride ourselves on being thinking people, so I think my cry was justified. Not that I need to justify myself to anyone. 

I realized that so much of my life lately revolves around trying to make other people happy and comfortable, as well as around the fear that my actions will make someone else upset with me. I can't talk about my longing for home while in my own house anymore, and I'm reminded too often in my own head not to be selfish, to put the needs of everyone else before my own, because that's what I've been told I should do.  I feel like a non-person some days, and one can only be a non-person for so long before she loses control in an ape shit tirade against a roving tree specialist and her usually hippy crunchy vegan neighbor (I generally love hippy crunchy vegan folk and like my neighbor, just to clarify).

I grew up in a place that loves tradition and values things like antique houses, special landmarks, and Walden Woods.  I hate the artificiality of a place like South Florida, where so much value is placed on the newest, the shiniest, the fastest, the most expensive.  There are tree huggers here, but we're in a constant battle. As are most tree huggers, I suppose. I'm tiring of being severed from my homeland, though. And it's taking a toll. 

A Calm Place

This weekend was a quiet one, with family time spent (just the three of us), and a date night enjoyed, some new plants purchased for the garden, and tiles chosen for the shower. We are going to be doing some work (well, the Hub Dude is going to be doing some work- he is the plumber, after all) in our shower, fixing leaks and replacing some horribly painted floor tiles. Sadly, the people who owned our house before it was ours did a whole lotta work that wasn't done well, or in a quality manner.  We have slowly been fixing all of the things that are falling apart, chipping off, and popping up.  In a way, there is some blessing in this as we now have tile in our living room which better suits our taste, and our kitchen has been customized to meet our personal styles and needs.  

The best thing about this weekend was the sense of peace that pervaded everything. On Friday night I attended a wonderful full moon gathering with Sisters. This filled me with a sense of peace and joy and I made a mental note that this is a group I must be more involved with. The rest of the weekend was equally as nice; I was grateful to have serenity this weekend, after the tumult of the previous one. I do believe that peace is often born of chaos, however. I rarely make positive and necessary changes unless some event or other crops up to urge me forward.  The explosions that rock our lives also give birth to new creation.  

Today, we have homeschool activities that should be fun and educational. It's nice to begin the day late starting "regular" week with an activity rather than just hitting the books. Our year is wrapping up, and summer is threatening a little more each day to arrive, although today the sky is grey and brief showers keep swishing through our area. 

Good Tuesday to all! 

Progress Through Acceptance

It's been a rough week. Emotionally, I have been all over the place, some moments wrapped in the sheer bliss of motherhood, other moments lost in longing for home and sadness for what seems too far out of reach.  Swirled into the soup of my own life happenings have been feelings of deep sorrow over the tornado in Moore, Oklahoma. Today I found myself sobbing during the CNN newscast, overflowing with grief for the children lost and the lives shattered. 

In the midst of my uncertainty and chaos, I've also found a sense of resignation and willingness to stay in the moment and see where life takes me, and us, when I do the right things and cherish the hell out of all the blessings that stretch before me each day.  

It seems that this small step in the direction of living in a more open way has sparked the artist in me again.  I've been working on various pieces of artwork, feeling a gusto for spending fun time with my daughter, energized toward life in general, and realizing that I need to step outside my comfort zone in a few areas of my life.  The work/homeschool/play/spiritual/family balance is still a tricky one to strike, but I've been making lists, prioritizing, and refusing to allow everyday life to squeeze the joy out of parenting. I've been walking around in an anxiety ridden daze over the past few months and it's been getting me nowhere except more deeply into a mire of perceived failure. I can't sit in that briar anymore. Time is too swiftly moving, my daughter is growing too quickly, and my creative urges are screaming for attention. An artist who isn't creating tends to dance on the edge of crazy. I'm not talking about an eccentric, kooky sort of crazy, either. I'm referring to depression and an inability to eek the wonder and magic out of life that is always inherent but not always noticed. 

So, I think I'm traveling through a highly transformative period in life. My intuition has been turned up; my sensitivity is either getting stronger or I'm better learning how to be open to the images and ideas that reveal themselves and to figure out what they mean.  My connection to nature and to the whole web of life has also been powerful as of late.  In most respects this feels wonderful, though it also occasionally leads to sobbing episodes over the sink after the nightly news has told the day's tales and dinner is being readied.  I have known I was an empath for many years; I'm still learning how to deal with it.  

And so, I bid hello to a new awakening. I'm hopeful, but I understand that there is much work to be done, and I don't expect that it will all be neat and easy.

Oh Well

I'm here, posting, but I'm not really sure why. Maybe posting in a blog is just a cathartic thing for me. I do find that writing helps me to sort out my thoughts. It's always been something I've done that's felt natural. Perhaps I should pursue it a bit harder. 

I realized last night that I'm not sure about much of anything anymore. I don't know what's real in my life. I don't know who I could truly count on if I needed support, aside from maybe one or two people, and they aren't anywhere in close proximity.  I feel profoundly sad and defeated today. I've been called selfish for voicing my opinions and desires for the future.  Maybe I am; I'm not sure.  I just felt like honesty was the best policy, that nobody gets where they truly want to be unless they voice their thoughts.  

Maybe I should temper my thoughts a little, though. Maybe I should hold them tightly within like a secret best kept hidden in a brightly jeweled treasure chest.  Maybe more will be revealed as the hours pass today and things are said, and love threads through the minutes.  For now, silence seems the best option for me. And contemplation. And maybe a hot shower. 

After a Long Week....

It's Friday. Blissful, busy Friday. Most Fridays are, for me, a day when I run the errands I've been unable to do during the week:  the banking, payroll, and shopping for odds and ends.  This week, after the saga of jury duty (which thankfully ended with the parties in the case in question settling and thus not needing our services), we discovered that some (insert expletive) pilfered a large sum of money from our bank account. The account we run our business from. Somehow, said scumbag acquired the number to my debit card and made a few purchases which, being completely out of step with those usually made by us, caused the bank to alert us. Thankfully, the alert arrived via email the same day the thief decided to make the fraudulent purchases and we called the bank to report the crime. While the bank was less than impressive with their initial handling of the situation, after a lengthy conversation with the Hubman they decided to open an investigation. In the meantime, I will keep checking our account via the Internet like a kid checking the mailbox for college acceptance letters.  

On a brighter note, we found someone of good qualifications to fix our slowly deteriorating roof. Hopefully, this will insure a dry season inside our home while the rainy season rages outside. At the moment, it sounds like Zeus is playing hopscotch on our roof and the Hub mentioned something about rubber roofing, a blowtorch, and the possible need of a fire extinguisher. I'm trying to have faith in a man who I'm sure is proficient in his trade, but I'm glad I have errands to run. 

Jury Duty

After a few months of trying to plead my case (no pun intended--okay, yes it was) against having to serve jury duty in light of the fact that I'm a homeschooling mom with no childcare available, today I finally bit the bullet and went to the courthouse to do my service as an American citizen.  I actually have  nothing really against jury duty; I wouldn't want to get stuck on a months long case, but a short trial might provide an interesting break from every day life.  My main issue is the childcare thing, and the fact that the Hubman is self employed and extremely busy, and not at a job that he can bring our young child to with him.  This leaves us with few options; today he stayed home with her and missed a day of work, trying to make up for that by doing paperwork and whatever he could accomplish with the girl in tow.  I was excited to finally be getting this whole thing over with, hopeful that, as usually happens, I wouldn't get picked and I'd be off the hook for awhile.  Yeah. Fat chance of that.

The day began bright and early, with instructions regarding how to be a good juror, etc. This was followed by a fifteen minute break which I used to get lost in the parking garage while trying to find my car.  Who knew that level three was so vast???  I finally located said vehicle, obtained the parking ticket I needed for validation (I was glad I did that when later I discovered that the parking garage is not a place for the thrifty patron-no deal going on there), and rushed back to the Jury Room, squeaking in just inside the fifteen minute time limit.  After still more waiting, the woman up front began assigning us our Judges. This proved to be a long, drawn out task during which my back, which has been giving me some trouble lately, began to ache horribly, adding to my frustration at being stuck immobile in a room for an extended period of time.  Finally, my number was called and I learned who my Judge would be.  After still more waiting and yet another trip to the bathroom (damned coffee) I joined a rather large group in the hallway for the trek to the courtroom. Crammed into the elevator like a cow being lead to the slaughterhouse, I was at least somewhat relieved to be moving on with the process.  My relief was short-lived. 

When the impossibly sunshiny woman leading our group emerged from the other elevator with the remaining possible jurors (it took two elevators to get us all up to the appropriate floor) she sprung the unfortunate news on us.  Apparently, for reasons not revealed to us, the Judge wanted us back tomorrow afternoon to continue the process.  There would be no selection for us today; we would have to go back again to fulfill the terms of our temporary servitude.  I am ashamed to say that I lost any sense of composure at this point.  Tired after getting up ridiculously early, frustrated and sore from sitting in that little chair for about three hours, I suppose the inconsideration of the Court just pissed me off.  Of course, Ms. Sunshine could do nothing for those of us who had no provisions for coming back to the Court House for another go 'round.  She advised that we speak with the jury people downstairs, as the Judge was not available to us at that time.  Typically, when I attempted to do this (along with another woman who had the same issue I have but was considerably more reasonable), the women in the jury room informed us that only the Judge can excuse us. They could do nothing and one of them tried to bully us, which only made me more upset. Of course, me being upset didn't help me or anyone else.  I was given a hastily scrawled phone number for the Judge's secretary who I declined to call because my rational mind told me it would do absolutely no good.  Having worked as a legal secretary, I am well aware of what it's like to deal with the secretaries of Judges.  The term "pit of vipers" comes to mind.  Not that all secretaries for Judges are nasty; my experience has simply been that many of them aren't in the business of helping you with your piddley problems.  Given that the top of my head felt like it was about to blow off by the time I was done with the oh so helpful ladies in the jury room, I thought it best to go outside, get some fresh air, and avoid any further unproductive confrontations. 

Understandably, the Hubman is not happy about my predicament.  He stated flatly that this was "really going to present a problem" for him tomorrow, and I agree that it does stink to vile proportions.  I'm disappointed that, instead of being through with jury duty as I thought I would be this morning when I left for the Courthouse, I have yet another day to worry over it and spend in what I find to be an uncomfortable and awkward situation.  I don't even want to consider how uncomfortable this whole deal will become should I actually get picked for a trial that lasts for an extended period of time (which could happen as this is a criminal cases Judge).   

 

For now, my hope is that tomorrow will see the end of this ordeal.  A girl can hope, right?

Rainy Monday

The rain spatters mercilessly on the rooftops this morning and I hold hope in the coming week. I love the rain, the coolness of the falling droplets, the way it washes the streets out front clean, the way it replenishes the dry lawns, and feeds the lake behind our house.

Yesterday Sparkle Fairy played with her friend from next door. I was glad for that; there aren't any kids for her to play with in our neighborhood anymore, aside from our neighbors directly next door on one side. One of the issues we deal with as a family removed from our roots is that we lack the company of extended family. My daughter has cousins close to her age, but they live far north of us, in different states, and we don't see them often enough. I have to bite back envy of the people who grew up here, who have old friends to hang around with, and cousins to schedule play dates with, and laughter to fill the walls during holidays.

So, hello, rainy Monday. Let's see what we can do today.

Lonely in Paradise

I've been lonely lately. When I say this, I'm not referring to a sense of being completely alone, but, rather, lacking in feeling a sense of community. I have my little family, and I love them with all that I am and am grateful for them. Most of us need to feel a sense of community, though. Particularly for those of us living far away from our natural families, there exists a sense of needing people who share our values and accept us for who we are. We need people to chat with (drum with) around bonfires, to share laughs with in the back yard on summer nights, to commiserate with, and navigate life with. There are a few people I feel this closeness with here, and quite a few people I'd love to get to know better, but thus far I feel fairly isolated, and it's starting to get to me. Is it anybody else's fault that I feel this way? No. I pretty much take responsibility for where I'm at. Because some of my ideas stray from the mainstream it's easy for me to feel out of place in the mundane world. I try to spend time with people of like mind, and that always refreshes me and provides me with sense of not being crazy. It's difficult to get away sometimes though. I'm trying a little more to take time out to do activities that feed my soul, but it's a slow process. I'm trying to balance the different areas of my life where it isn't possible to integrate them. I still don't understand why being a free thinker has to offend some people so much. Why does weighing science with spirituality and acting accordingly have to make a person seem so odd to people who can't, won't, or simply don't have any interest in doing this? I believe in things unseen. I have witnessed the magic of nature and know that not everything that "is" can be neatly tucked between the pages of a text book. I also believe that there are workings of our planet which scientists have explained through many years of research, and while they might not necessarily point to a literal Garden of Eden, they do present a logical framework for the beginnings of life. There are still so many things we don't know, and scientists don't always get it right, but I don't think it's fair when someone looks at me with disgust and ridicule when I mention that there is no evidence to prove and much evidence to disprove in ideas such as dinosaurs and human beings co-existing.

I'm just venting a bit here. I know that I need to make some active changes in order for this hole that has been widening within me to be filled. I know, roughly, what I need to do. Sort of.

Of Chickens and girls

One of our hens passed away a couple of days ago, and last night, I crouched on the dock behind our house, near where she is buried, and softly sang a good-bye song to her. I've been missing her sweet, feathered presence terribly and feel awful that her sister, Molly, is now alone. I also worry for Molly's health, as chickens are sociable creatures and human company is not the same as the bird variety. I have a fierce affection for Molly that has been intensified since her sister's departure has brought forth the reminder of life's fleeting quality. I'm considering the introduction of another chicken to our modest homestead. However, the hubs is not particularly amenable to this idea. He has tired of caring for them (though, truthfully, I have been and am the main caretaker of all the animals who live at our house) and wasn't receptive when our daughter stated that Molly needs a friend and that we should get her one. I'll have to consider the next course of action carefully as I don't want to force another animal onto the Cajun plumber, but I also don't want Molly to suffer because she no longer has a buddy to strut around in the grass with all day.

I believe in the value of holding rituals for our departed animal companions. We had a family funeral for Zack the night we laid her down under the shelter of a floppy banana plant at the rear of our property and that was good. Last night as I walked through the backyard in the moonlight, a slight, pleasantly cool breeze teasing the hair back from my face, my eyes rested on the place where Zack's physical body is interred and I felt a need to reach out to her spirit. Being an artistic sort, the idea of singing her spirit to peace resonated with me and I found myself voicing the words of a song I've heard often at children's rituals and other places. Surprisingly, the lone duck who was trying to get some sleep on the dock as I made my way to the edge of it seemed undisturbed. Our German Shepherd crept tentatively toward me and seemed to sense that something special was taking place. An avid chaser of ducks, he made no move toward this one, and only stayed behind me offering nuzzles. As I sang quietly (sound carries well over water and my goal here was not to freak out the neighbors) into the night air I felt a sense of peace. Even though we've had an issue with over abundant mosquitoes this year, none were biting. Sitting on the dock in the dark with a bit of moon overhead, a Muscovy duck to my left, and my furry canine behind me offering his loving support, it felt as though we'd entered a magical space in time. In the sadness, there came a touch of wonder.

(The attached photo is Molly and I, taken this morning.)

Samhain Approaches!

Halloween is on it's way, our house is decorated with silk autumn leaves (no real ones to be had here in South Florida), silky black crows, pumpkins, sparkly orange lights, and black cats. I love this time of year, and this year I sprung for a few new decorations to really give our home that Samhain flavor. Soon I'll begin creating a menu for our dinner for our beloved dead. We held a dinner like this last year and it felt honoring of those we love who are gone as well as healing for us. Sadly, this year's honorees will include a close and very special friend who recently crossed over, a beautiful spirit who has left us too young. My daughter has been experiencing difficulty in even mentioning our friend's name, so approaching this particular dinner with delicacy will be a priority. Last year, after our special meal was over, I felt a bit sad and drained. I expect that this year will yield the same effect and I plan to hold a small, very simple personal ritual in the side garden after everything has been cleaned up and the night is winding down.

As far as engaging in Craft activities goes, I recently attended a wonderful study group with our local CUUPS group, after which I had the honor of actively participating in a ritual of blessing. Having missed quite a few study groups lately, when the call went out for people to open the quarters I gleefully offered to help call the elements of the North. Happily, one of my Temple sisters joined me, along with a quiet fellow I'd never met before. All went well that night until it was revealed that a woman in the circle had been videotaping the whole thing (a big no no in our group). When confronted, she became indignant, stating huffily that the video was her personal property. As more people approached her from the circle, she stated that she would delete the video when she got home, but my gut told me she wasn't being truthful and I advised that this would not be acceptable- it was wrong for her to have taped people without their consent in the first place. Finally, she agreed to delete the video, a task she needed help to accomplish, as she admitted she didn't know how to do this. Obviously, she had no intention of trashing the video after she returned home!

Privacy during ritual is important. While one person might feel free about publicizing his or her Pagan lifestyle, for another to do so might cost him/her a job or jeopardize a career. Additionally, there are some in the community who aren't ready or for whom it isn't practical to expose their spiritual beliefs to some or all of their family members. The web site for our local CUUPS group is definite in it's "no camera/no video" rule. Unless someone has explicitly agreed to be photographed, there should be no picture taking. Pagans are like everyone else- we hold jobs as lawyers, doctors, teachers, bus drivers, and everything other job one can think of. Some of those jobs also employ people who wouldn't be open to our way of life.

As you celebrate the turn of the year this Samhain, enjoy the company of good friends and kindred spirits on either side of the veil. And, if you're lucky enough to attend a holiday ritual, remember to be respectful of others who are doing the same. Stay in and enjoy the moment, and, unless you have been designated a photographer for the group or have been asked to memorialize the gathering with pictures, keep your memories safely tucked away in the scrapbook of your mind.

Samhain blessings.

Hanging Out Around Town

Being home has been wonderful, like being able to breathe again after a year of holding my breath. I know this sounds melodramatic, that lots of people live far from their places of origin, but it's my truth. At the place in life where I currently reside, just south of middle age and well aware of the quick passage of time, being home is all I really want. I want to live and walk and talk and breathe and laugh New England. I want to be able to have an afternoon of unrushed laughter, tears, and conversation with my Mom. I want my daughter to spend time with her family without having to squeeze those moments into small snippets. I want to avoid the yearly arguments over who sees us and when (because too many of our family members don't communicate with one another). I want to feel really really at home with where I live.

Today, Sparkle Fairy and I wandered around Porter Square. We had breakfast, then did some shopping, stopping first at a natural foods and goods store, then at a funky little book store which featured a cafe complete with vegetarian sandwiches. I watched my daughter scarf down a sandwich filled with arugula, tomato, and avocado, smiling at her aversion to most forms of meat, an aversion we largely share. Artsy crunchy people are my people and it was refreshing to be in an environment so full of these types of people, with resources I love close by. There are people like this in Florida, but it's a different scene altogether.

As we walked to the subway with my Mom later, I noticed that the air had cooled a bit, carrying with it the promise of autumn. It's late summer here and soon the weather will be tinged with a crispness, worthy of sweaters and big soft blankets. Back in Florida, it will still be hot in October, a fact I liked when I first moved to the state but have tired of after too many years of living in the southeast. I'm weary of the bugs, the heat, the hurricanes, and the absence of people like my best friend of twenty five years, who lives here in MA. I'm tired of living in a place that has never been my home the way that this place is.

I'm enjoying it as much as I can.

Boston Bound!

At this time next week my daughter and I will be in Boston! I've written often about how much miss home,
how badly I'd like to move back to the northeast, and I will be very happy to reconnect with New England's energy again. I feel whole when I'm there, more comfortable than I do anywhere else. It's where a piece of my heart resides and for that I am unapologetic.