Diary - Depression

I am, as they say, in a bad way. I am not happy.

Which is not to say that I don't have moments of happiness - I do. There is still plenty of laughter and enjoyment in my life. There's an Ani DiFranco song (to quote from my personal canon) that goes:

i think i could accept all these dark colors
as just part of some bigger color scheme
if it wasn't for that drippy string quartet of sadness
underscoring each smiling scene

And that's pretty much it. Not a drippy string quartet of sadness, exactly, but the creeping tense eerie straining hum that transforms a normal shot of life as you'd expect into the quiet-before-the-storm in a horror movie. There is a constant stress underlying every moment, and I am sick to death of all of it.

~~~

Part of it is Emily. She is hellish. I am continually astounded by how awful she is, how heartless and cruel and manipulative, how intent she is on punishing Jeff for moving away. It would be enough if she would just content herself with legal machinations to keep him from seeing the kids, or even from being able to Skype them regularly (both of which she's doing to the best of her ability). But on top of that, she sends emails that are obviously and explicitly meant to suggest that somehow it is Jeff's fault, that he should feel guilty because she is incapable of organizing her life or controlling her schedule, that someone his refusal to capitulate to her every whim is a failure on his part. She says she's "very surprised" that he hasn't called the kids in the past week, but then when he tries to arrange for time to talk to them she says their schedules are just too busy and the most she can do is a regimented hour-long conversation during which she sets a timer to allow each of them only fifteen minutes. That she doesn't even have the competency or control to actually enforce these idiotic plans just makes it worse! We have to deal with her constant self-justifications and cruelty towards Jeff while all along knowing that she has very little control over her own life. She is utterly unreliable even when it comes to her own stupid demands. I almost wish she would enforce such a regiment - since it's much more likely that she will instead fall into a habit of signing onto Skype later and later, finding excuses why she can't stick to the pre-arranged schedule, until we'll end up with a situation like when she first agreed to bring the kids over on Saturday mornings, and soon began to sleep in and not get them to us until lunch time. At that point, Jeff just had to start driving out to pick them up himself. With a Skype call, that's just not an option, there is no way he can compensate for her failure. Her weakness and learned helplessness just makes the times when she lashes out all the more frustrating, because you know that it is from her own weakness and incompetency that she draws on that secret fear that she projects towards everyone else. She does not know how to be a functional human being. The only way she knows how to get her way is to become a dead weight that everyone else must carry, a dead weight spewing insane accusations and guilt like a vile phlegm that covers everything.

I am so tired of carrying that dead weight around. Jeff and I want the best for the kids, but we also want the best for us. I want him to be the good, loving, involved father that he so wants to be and that he always has been - but I can't see any way of staying involved with the kids lives without also being forced to have dealings with their parasitic, selfish, manipulative mother. There is no reason why being a father should be a miserable duty that precludes personal happiness. There is no reason why being a stepmother has to be that way, either. I am not upset that it is hard - I knew it would be difficult, as learning how to adapt to and handle complex family relationships always are. But I'm angry and frustrated that there seems to be absolutely nothing we can do to stay in touch with the kids that Emily won't use as a means to abuse and punish Jeff. She is, in the most literal sense of the metaphor, like a fucking antiChrist. Instead of a loving, merciful bridge to the divine Father, she is the vindictive, hateful gulf that we have to cross as our only way of connecting with the kids. Having to go through her is almost worse than not being able to see the kids at all. The whole relationship gets twisted and warped, bent to her selfishness, dragged down by the gravity of her dead weight.

And I'm angry - at myself, and at Jeff and me together - for not being strong enough to do something about it. I'm angry that we even have to deal with this at all, that we don't have the financial resources to fight it, that the lawyers we hired to be on our side just drained us of all our money but accomplished exactly nothing for us except wasting our time. I'm angry that there seems to be no good solution, that a single dead-weight woman could so effectively ruin Jeff's relationship with his kids, that we can't just scream her into submission and make her see just how terrible a person she is. But she probably knows, in any case. I can't imagine all this guilt-tripping and manipulation is because she actually likes herself.

I don't want to indulge in the part of me that is angry and wants nothing more to be violent towards her, to reduce her to dust and sniveling worms. I'm not going to deny that part of me, but I know that it won't do any good. I suppose part of me wants the power to do such a thing simply because it would give me the opportunity to be merciful. I want so much for us to be the better people - but what is that, what would that mean in this case? I can't see how it's right for us to accept all of her conditions and demands and then allow her incompetence to slowly erode away our time with the kids and our relationship with them. How will that help anyone? But then, fighting the good fight, leaving us miserable, frustrated, exhausted in every sense of the word, staining our relationship with the kids with the constant strain and stress of it all? How is that any good? What is the good thing to do here, the merciful thing? How can you be merciful and kind to a parasite, someone who has made herself a parasite by her own choice because she is too afraid and weak to be anything else? And how do you protect the kids and their dream of family? How do you salvage that ideal and preserve the heart of it, to sustain their hope and optimism in a scenario like this? How can you come out and tell them everything their mother is doing out of her own selfishness and smallness, without destroying the mother archetype for them, or the father archetype for that matter? (On the other hand, how could it be any worse than the way Emily is warping and twisting that archetype into one of supremely powerful helplessness, the manipulative passivity that she models for them on a daily basis?)

~~~

When you are out of options about how to move forward on the mundane plane, that's when you turn to magic. Rereading Dion Fortune's novel Moon Magic recently, that's what I was reminded of. Work things out on what she calls the "Inner Plane" - work things out on the level of imagination, thought, intention, will, inspiration, the place where we connect most directly and most deeply with the gods and with Spirit and with the Song of the World - and they will work themselves out on the physical level. I always believed that love will work its own way out. I want to believe that. But I am at a loss as to what to do magically to help this situation. I'm not sure what kind of work can be done. Calling on Emily's higher self or whathaveyou.... Doing some kind of banishing or binding..... I don't know what work needs to be done. I'm unclear about where the problem lies, and unclear about our intentions and how we can or should shape them.

I don't know what work needs to be done on myself, either, for that matter. To make me stronger, calmer, better able to handle the strain of this work. I want to believe this is like the crucible where I am being melted down to be refined, shaped into a sharper instrument, a better vessel for Spirit. But instead, it just feels like a coffin, a tomb, with the pressure of earth - all the material weight of the world and its fucked up practicality - bearing down on me so that I can hardly breathe. I need to find a creative way to overcome this, to push through this. Or maybe not push, even, but simply to get through it somehow.

I've been doing a lot of crying recently. Weirdly, that seems to help. Just allowing myself to grieve over this situation - the whole situation - and its injustice and cruelty and frustration. I feel blocked creatively, it's been so long since I had that Fire in the Head, that spark of inspiration. I sit down to write, and nothing comes but the same dull old rote, the same superficial rot that everyone writes. I have nothing to say. I am in no position to say anything at all. I'm broken down into silence and sorrow.

Anne Lamott says there are only two prayers really that we say in our heart of hearts: Help me! Help me! Help me! and Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

It feels like so long since I was able to pray with gratitude - all my prayers are just the grunts and groans of the beast of burden trudging along beneath the yoke, asking for some leniency, for a rest, for a burst of energy to get me through, for a better way. I am not happy, I am just surviving, getting by. I worry about myself - that I might be in the midst of a depression. I know I've been here before, when I just can't see the end to the work and the work itself seems pointless and not any good or help to anyone, and all I want is to die. Not literally, but to die to this old, feeble self that isn't any good for the task at hand. To find some release from the blockage, to become some slip of a thing, a ghost that can pass through to a new place.

But then I get angry that I am always having to die, that this is such a never-ending process of being remade, that I should always have to be facing some new obstacle or problem instead of settling down into a stable, steady life of happy productivity and contentment. I resent that there should always be this pressure on me, that I should always be expected to use all my strength. What if I want to put my strength towards some purpose that I choose, pursue something that I love or want. It feels as though I didn't choose this, though I guess there is the argument that actually I did, at least at some level. That I might be the one putting the pressure on myself, and that it might go away if only I would just stop.... just makes me angrier. I don't know how to simply stop, especially when there seems to be no good solution and passivity just seems likely to make things worse. I feel chained down, and yet there's that part of me that wonders - that worries - that the chains are as thin as a spider's silk that I could break in a heart beat if I wanted to.... so why don't I? I know about freedom - and the very moment when you realize you are free is the same moment you see that you have been free all along - so why don't I feel free? What level of consciousness am I pushing towards, here? And why isn't it enough to just stay where I am? I do not believe in this eternal progression or working towards salvation - so what exactly is the point of all this pointless struggling?

~~~

Last night, I was up until at least midnight. Jeff was snoring, so he slept in the den, and I spent a good deal of time crying and praying and blowing my nose and watching the cat adjust and readjust himself in the next of blankets at my feet. I prayed to Brigid and Manannan, asking for their help and guidance, asking them what I should do.

And the thing is, simply crying, allowing myself to sob, I sank deeper even than the constant strain of stress and frustration that has been weaving through my life these days - and there, underneath, was still that inexplicable and strange pulse of fierce joy. Somehow, even that deep, there was fierce joy. How could there be joy there, and if it is there, why can't I bring it through, bring it up to manifest in my everyday life and the lives of those I love? Why should such a fierce joy wallow like a dark puddle at the very bottom of a dank and collapsing well - why shouldn't it rise with all its power and strength to overwhelm the stupidity and stress of the every day and open the way, like a surging wave or wellspring or an all-consuming fire? Why should I have to sink so low to dip my hands into a small and muddy pool? It is not fair! Why shouldn't love and joy rise up to wash everything clean and clear away the debris? Why shouldn't it break up this heavy fog of confusion and pressure with sunlight burning off the mist of morning? I know it's there! What keeps it from rising up to manifest?

Is it me? Am I keeping it down? How could I be responsible for that, when I feel so helpless and impotent so much of the time? When I've been working so hard to clear the way and nothing seems to help? This fierce joy that lies like a vast ocean beneath and in all things - how could I be enough to block it, and why would I? I just don't understand what I'm supposed to do, or how I'm supposed to do it. I don't know what will help, and what will hinder. I don't know how to stop being a blockage and become a better vessel.

That's what I want to know.

Saturn Return: Weekly Meditation (Crossing Ascendent)

Days of Note: Saturn crosses Ascendent

Sun: sagittarius (mutable fire), 7:26 AM - 4:54 PM
Moon: *waxing gibbous, aries (cardinal fire)
Earth: cold, in the mid-to-low 40s most of the day, starting out quite sunny but then fading to gray, cloudy weather; not that I would know, as I spent pretty much all day inside working on various things, but mostly writing


Last night I had a dream that my aunt Tricia, who works from home as a baker of wonderful homemade cakes, cookies and pies, etc., had decided that she wanted to quit baking and go into taxidermy. (Apparently, this dream was probably inspired by a scene from an episode of X-Files that Jeff and I watched together last night, which I was only half paying attention to at the time and must have gotten into my subconscious.) Anyway, in the dream, my aunt decided she really wanted to be a taxidermist, she was fascinated by it. But the only tools she knew how to use were things like blenders and egg beaters. I have some vague visual impression in my mind of some poor animal carcass being tamped down into the thin, tapering container of a blender, the lid fitted on nicely and the switch flipped, resulting in that lovely whirring and the spinning of blood and bone and fur and bits all into a uniform pinkish paste.

This might not have anything to do with anything, but I thought I would jot it down.

I started writing this journal entry at 11:11 PM, though I doubt I'll be finished with it until what is technically Sunday morning. I'm wide awake and not feeling the least bit tired - which is indicative of my sleep schedule these days, where sometimes I feel so lethargic I can't pull myself out of bed before 10 AM, and other days I'm awake before dawn (which, as dark as the days are, isn't really that hard anyway) with plenty of energy to spare. This morning, I woke up at around 5 AM and tossed and turned a bit before finally giving up and getting up entirely at about 6:30 AM. Jeff had to leave to get the kids, and I fell back asleep for another few hours, so I suppose it all evened out. We'll see how I am tomorrow morning. (Jeff, who slept downstairs on the futon because he'd been snoring a lot lately, hardly slept at all last night because of various worries about this weekend, so now he's excused and sound asleep despite me still being awake.)

I hadn't planned to do much work today - or rather, I'd planned to at least try to clean and organize the basement some in preparation for our up-coming move. But two of the four kids were sick with some kind of stomach bug (which had them on a bland diet of food, though neither of them really acted all that sick - it was a nice excuse for everyone to stay quiet and relaxed in bed reading or drawing for much of the day), so thoughts of trying to organize some kind of cleaning extravaganza were out. At one point I sat down to check out John's recent post on No Unsacred Place, which was excellent as usual, and that was the kick in the ass I needed to sit down and work on the piece I'd wanted to do for this coming week about the recent news coming out of the science journals about LUCA, the Last Universal Common Ancestor, being a single, planet-sized mega-organism very similar to a "living ocean" of genetic soup. A pretty cool concept. So I spent all day researching various creation myths from different cultures and drawing comparisons between these and the scientific evidence they have for LUCA, pointing out some of the common themes of primordial chaotic waters, a moment when separation and individuation begins to occur, and the idea of a god being dismembered and the parts of his (or her) corpse being used to actually make the world.

So even though I didn't have any time really to do some formal Saturn Return meditation as I'd planned, I ended up doing quite a bit of contemplation on some of those primordial ancient themes about dissolution, death, separation, limitation and the power of form. Some of the Greek myths actually involve Kronos/Saturn himself, so... there's that.

I find myself really connecting to this idea of a common genetic ancestor in the ancient primordial oceans as a living being that is both an ancestor and a god(dess). This just really jives for me. It works well with my more animistic sensibilities which can sometimes shy away from being overly metaphorical or psychological about the gods and would rather rejoice in and celebrate the Actual Sun Right There See There It Is than in some idea of a sun deity in the abstract. On the other hand, though, it also gives some context to Manannan as a "son of the sea" without having to bear the burden of being the literal sea itself. Manannan mac LUCA, perhaps. Manannan has continued to be an important god to me, and I think I've reconciled myself to just him and Brighid for the time being as a working pair who play nicely together. Manannan is a god of the threshold, the liminal space of the mists, the psychopomp who leads the dead into the other realm, the trickster who will turn things upside-down just for the sake of teasing and challenging. I think there are definitely some parallels here between Manannan (and Manawydan from Welsh mythology) and the figure of Saturn. And strangely enough, while I think of Saturn primarily as a planet and, after that, as some kind of psychological archetype and energetic influence, I find it a lot easier to think of Manannan as an actual god, personified, and able to help me with the Saturn Return. I have no sense that he is Kronos/Saturn, any more than Jeff is, say, Commander Samuel Vimes. But the "real" god Manannan has some understanding of the character/nature/influence of the psychological archetype of Saturn and can give me some insight - like we can have a discussion about it and share our perspectives, in the same way Jeff and I can talk about the characters in Pratchett's books and he can give me insight into what it's like to be a father, something I wouldn't know as much about.

One thing that I was reflecting on just now while I was reading and trying to fall asleep was the nature of Saturn's recent transit through my twelfth house in Libra, the sign and house of my natal moon. I think it was Arroyo who said that Saturn can have a lasting influence when passing through the sign and house of the moon, even when it's not in exact or close aspect to the moon itself. I don't remember precisely when transiting Saturn was exactly conjunct my natal moon, but I do know that the moon is associated with a lot of "mommy issues" - coming to terms with the mother's influence in the family and the inner archetype of the mother in the psyche, as well as grappling with ancestral influences of all kinds that have been "inherited" on the psychic or psychological level. With my moon in Libra, I wonder if I have a particular sensitivity to concepts of fairness, justice, balance and beauty being manifested in the role of the mother - whether by myself or by other "mothers" in my life.

Saturn has been transiting my twelfth house for about two years now, I think. It's soon to cross my ascendent and enter my first house. In fact, looking up my chart just now (at 11:48 PM on Saturday, December 3) I see that transiting Saturn is within 13 minutes of my ascendent and the cusp of my first house. So... maybe that's why I'm suddenly feeling a certain amount of energy and clarity around these issues.

Anyway, as I was lying in bed I suddenly saw all the various ways in which the energy and influence of the mother had been manifesting in my life in ways that provoked my anger or frustration over a sense of violated fairness or justice - in particular in my relationship with Jeff's ex-wife and biological mother to my stepchildren, who has consistently attempted to act in the role of controlling "Mama Bear" figure to both me and Jeff as well as the kids. It hit me that I had been grappling with two issues that were often put at odds with one another.

On the one hand, I wanted things to be Fair - both in the sense of being just and balanced, and also beautiful and harmonious. This led me to a lot of conflict on Jeff's behalf when I felt that his rights as a father were being trampled on or ignored, when he didn't get "his fair share" of time with the kids (even when him having more time with them, and the struggle to get and keep that time that was often involved, left both of us feeling worn out, exhausted and stressed). I also made a lot of judgements - emotionally and ethically - about Emily choosing to stay home and be a "mom," even going on to have another child with her new husband, instead of stepping up to be an "equal partner" in both the divorce (by pulling her weight with joint debt from the previous marriage) and in her own new marriage (which, I will be the first to admit, is none of my business, though I sure do have opinions about it). This judgement - and I won't say it was judgmental necessarily, but it was a judgement, certainly - often had me worrying about the kind of example she was setting for the kids, and my own response was to push back - to balance out her example by becoming even more ambitious (Saturn!) in my own role not as a stepmom but as a "career woman" and female adult role model to the kids. This was me pushing back against the figure of the mother - both in external form and my own potential role - and seeking instead another kind of authority. That has Saturn's influence written all over it.

On the other hand, I also had already learned the lesson - which Saturn had helped teach me before - that to find a harmonious balance it is often important to let go, to release certain emotional blockages or stubborn opinions and to give up being the kind of person who has to control every little thing to make sure it all comes out alright. This was a lesson that I actually learned from my own mother, by bad example. Seeking too much control in a world that is by its very nature so much bigger and more complex than you could ever possibly understand is the very recipe for out of control stress and paranoia. This is what happened to my mother to some extent (though I have to admit that in recent years, perhaps because of the change in her career and my brother and I no longer living at home, she does seem to be improving on this in small ways). The whole thing was, in fact, a lesson all about boundaries and limits (hello again, Saturn old friend!), learning to understand the extent of your own control and when not to push beyond them but instead accept them and trust in the greater harmonies of the universe (there's Saturn, straddling that liminal space between the concrete manifestations of the inner planets and the influences of fate and cosmic force of the outer planets). This was a lesson I knew very well, and something that I continued to affirm to myself consciously. But I was completely piss-poor at actually following through and listening to my own better judgement.

So here were two urges that were definitely working at odds to one another. The urge on the one hand to make sure things were fair and just and balanced - and the desire on the other hand not to become like my own mother and like Jeff's ex-wife, both of whom were excellent examples of the immaturity and stress that characterizes a "control freak" who uses their good intentions to justify their paranoid manipulations and micro-management of everyone around them (essentially being a "mother" to everyone and not being able to trust others to do what's fair or harmonious on their own). Confronted with the glaring evidence that Jeff's ex-wife had no interest in being fair - I think mainly simply because she was incapable of stepping outside of her own perspective in order to see how what she wanted was unfair - it was an incredible challenge for me not to respond by trying to control her.

My response, and something I had to work on with Jeff a lot, was a process of affirming our personal boundaries. It took a lot of push-back and a great deal of stress and hard work every time we were confronted with Emily's tendency to act entitled to private information about our lives that were none of her business or to bombard Jeff with unsolicited emails full of advice about issues of which she had little to no actual knowledge. We worked hard, as a couple and equal partners in the matter, to help each cope with that stress and reaffirm our right to establish clear, healthy boundaries. But mostly, it sucked. I've been getting down on myself a lot over the past couple years about my feelings of having failed at this work, or at least of having responded in ways that were not helpful or healthy. And definitely there were times when our attempts to establish strong boundaries crossed the line into an attempt to control or compensate for Emily's disrespectful or manipulative behavior. But looking back now, I actually feel like we did an okay job. One recent change came about when I broke down and asked some folks on an internet forum if they had any resources that might help. One person responded and pointed me to the "Ten Commandments for Low-Contact Parallel Parenting with High-Drama Ex's." (The idea of having a short, authoritative list of simple rules to follow.... yeah, Saturn, you bet.) Jeff and I read this over, saw a lot of ways that we were already following the techniques suggested and a lot of other places where we could improve. So we started following the rules, and we sent a copy of them to Emily asking her to abide by them as well. (This was after we caught her in a bald-faced lie about one of the kids' health issues, which for us was the final straw and, in some ways, a relief that her manipulation could no longer be denied or explained away.... though of course, that didn't stop her from trying.)

That was about two months ago now, I think. Today, Jeremy confronted Jeff when he went to pick up the kids to let him know that two of them weren't feeling well - and for good measure threw in his own two cents about how "this silent treatment isn't having the effect we [Jeff and I] were hoping it would have." The comment had Jeff fuming when he got home, but he and I talked about it and were able to laugh off the continued arrogance and immaturity. I pointed out to him that our stress has definitely gone down and we don't waste nearly as much time in pointless conflict with Emily; meanwhile, we have more energy when we do have the kids and less anxiety over every little issue that might somehow make its way back to us, so our time with them is more enjoyable than it was before. Whatever Jeremy and Emily think, the technique is most definitely doing what we'd hoped it would do on our end. Jeremy simply declaring that it wasn't working - without asking Jeff's feelings on the matter - was just one more example of why the Low-Contact Parenting techniques were a good idea after all.

One of the things that I think was most helpful about the Low-Contact Parenting was that it helped us to recognize when we were crossing the line from "affirming healthy boundaries" to "pushing back and trying to control others." With rules that restrict our email use to only short messages pertaining specifically to the kids themselves and that avoid intentionally provocative language, for instance, we're forced to catch ourselves before we shoot off that obnoxious letter that we secretly hope will smack Emily back into her place and divest her of any delusions she has about our opinion. The rules work because they ask us to turn a critical eye back onto our own behavior and to recognize when we're demanding something that we should probably just not expect given what is and is not within our reasonable ability to control. These rules give us a structure whereby we can learn how to find a balance between our sense of fairness and our need to appreciate our limits. (And I'm using "we" a lot here because it's something Jeff and I have mostly worked on together, but in many ways this is a lot about my own issues.) But all of this only came after we had done the difficult work of establishing boundaries that could safely secure at least a minimum amount of real fairness and equality between Jeff and his ex when it came to the kids - including giving us the legal ground to stand on in order to negotiate for a fair and workable schedule for child custody after our move. If we hadn't done that necessary work of pushing back and establishing boundaries first - especially in Jeff's case, I think - we would have been in a position where an attitude of "it's out of our control" would have left us open to manipulation, exploitation and a certain amount of guilt.

So here I was being hard on myself about how we handled it when, looking back, maybe we did pretty much the best we could given the circumstances. We weren't perfect, but I think we've found some long-term sustainable ways to find that necessary balance and we were able to bring our more unseemly responses into check before they got out of hand and went too far. At least, right now I'm feeling hopeful and optimistic and so that's my present understanding of the situation. I'd love to hear what Jeff thinks of all of this. (He's asleep now - maybe I'll have a chance to talk to him tomorrow about it at some point.) I'm sure his perspective will be a bit different, considering the influences going on in his own chart right now. And maybe I'm completely wrong about this - I'm kind of making it up as I go, really, and he knows more about astrology than I do.

In any case, what began as a day spent contemplating the "primordial mother ocean" has ended up with some pretty startling thoughts about the energies of the moon-as-mother in relation to my Saturn Return. Perhaps leaving the twelfth house and crossing the ascendent means that these issues are be resolved, maybe "coming to light" in a more conscious way now that I'm moving out of the house of mystery and mysticism. I don't know. I hope so. I think it must be a good sign that I just happen to be awake and thinking about this during the time when transiting Saturn is coming into exact aspect with my ascendent. That has to mean something, right? Like my willingness to be awake to this and open to it, to face it instead of just wanting to "go back to sleep" and ignore the lessons. I hope Manannan can help me stay open to the lessons I need to learn, and in the meantime help me to maybe not be quite so hard on myself if things seem like a struggle or I have to work hard. I think it's a really important insight, that coming to terms with our boundaries and limitations (Saturn) is also about learning how to trust in the greater universe. I just read an old tale about Manannan that someone randomly posted online the other day, about a shepherd who is on his way home with his sheep one evening when he runs into Manannan, who teases him about his certainty of the way and pulls down a confusing mist that shrouds his eyes and makes him lose his sheep. After bumbling about in the dark mists all night, Manannan finally relents and lifts the mist, for the shepherd to find that he was only a few yards from home with all his sheep safe and accounted for by his side - and Manannan joking that sometimes he just likes to play a prank for the joy of it. Sometimes I wonder if I'm in a similar position - stumbling around in the mist all night only to finally realize once the veil lifts away that I've been close to home all along and in no real danger. But I also have to wonder if maybe, if I didn't bumbled around quite so much and fret quite so loudly (and maybe sometimes comically), if Manannan wouldn't consider me quite so worth his attention. ;)

So with that thought, I'll call it a night.

Diary - Career Help

Waiting for Jeff and Arthur to get done booking their flights on the computer so we can go to dinner. Meanwhile, I was skimming through Creating a Life Worth Living, ostensibly to see if it might be helpful to Jerilynn just to give her some ideas about how adults learn to grapple with the question of "being able to handle being grown up." But the more I flip through it, the more I think it might be worth while to go back through it and actually do some of the exercises and see where they lead.

My plan is to start a serious routine of creative/spiritual work for November. I'm stuck in a rut where I have very little that I have to do on any given day, but a long list of things I'd like to do.... so I get stuck and wind up sitting in front of the computer half the day perusing social networking websites and feeling guilty and angry and unsupported because I'm not "popular." When did I become someone who cared about being popular? When I started to think that being popular was the only way that you can make a living these days. Need to snap out of that. I'm hoping that this book will help.

Also, with my Saturn Return coming up, I wanted to open up to a bit more meditation time and learn to relax when I'm not working and focus when I am (instead of focusing on procrastination and as a result feeling neither accomplished nor rested, instead of both). I tried using the To Do list tool online that Jeff showed me, but that just ended up turning everything on the list into a burden, the list became something too ignore because I fell too far behind on things, and it wound up encouraging me to procrastinate more instead of less. So I need a new system.

An idea I thought up the other night was to use my Tarot cards - draw a single card each day, and have particular types of activities planned according to the suit of the card. So drawing a Pentacles card (of whatever number) would mean doing some sort of "earth" focused activities, while drawing a Swords card would correspond to "air" activities. Major Arcana cards would be something special.

To do this, I have to come up with some kind of way to organize the various things I want to get done according to the four elements, plus decide what the Major Arcana should stand for. I think the first step, then, is to sit down and make a list of all the various things I want to do, and then see if any patterns emerge. Obviously, Swords will probably correspond to "intellectual" types of activities, like perhaps studying, reading, doing research. I'm not sure writing should go under that element, though, since I want to open up my writing a bit more to creativity and imagination. So either Wands or maybe Cups, depending.

Jeff and Arthur have given up because the website just isn't working. So off to dinner and social time. More on this later.

Diary - Anger, Grace and God

Sun: scorpio (fixed water), 7:39 am - 6:29 pm
Moon: waning crescent, virgo (mutable earth), VoC
Earth: beautiful, sunny autumn day, crisp and cool but not too chilly


The shit has hit the fan, so to speak. We caught E in a direct lie about Josh's health - when we asked her what the results were from the allergy test, her response was that he was "definitely allergic." Her phrasing was circuitous enough (e.g. avoiding directly saying that's what the doctor had told her) that Jeff called the doctor himself to speak to him directly to make sure he understood the whole situation, at which point we found out that all of the test results had come back negative and the only evidence that Josh had any kind of allergy at all was E's word that he showed symptoms obviously and consistently after eating corn. (Part of her evidence, in fact, was that he shows symptoms every Monday. Obviously we can't say whether or not this is true, but if it is, it actually suggests it's not a corn allergy, since he's been on a raw vegan diet with us for months now and most definitely never has corn when he's with us on weekends. But this is just one more example of her inconsistency in reporting what exactly are his symptoms and when they show up.)

On top of the corn allergy issue (and Jerilynn's newly invented gluten intolerance, which E says explains why Jerilynn eats too much (?!)), E has taken it upon herself to insist that Jeff quit his job in order to stay in Pittsburgh, and even started job hunting for him (despite not being able to find and keep even a part-time job for herself and being entirely ignorant except for the most general terms about Jeff's skills and job qualifications). Besides all of the obvious reasons (e.g. a struggling economy) why it would be idiotic for him to quit his job and leave a career he loves on the assumption he can just find a different one.... her assumption that it's her responsibility to order Jeff's life is pretty mind-boggling.

When confronted with all of this directly - especially after the blatant lying, which made Jeff the angriest I've ever seen him - she justified her behavior and even claimed that she hadn't lied. She emailed him earlier today saying that they were going to have a talk when he dropped off the kids and he better be prepared to "stay for a while." He wrote back saying that he was too angry to talk to her right now and that he would email her. Unfortunately, this weekend we'd happened to borrow the van so that all of us could attend a boy scout event of Josh's, so when we arrived to drop off the kids and the van and pick up Jeff's car - she was sitting on top of it in an attempt to ambush us and force us into talking. At first she tried to sweet-talk Jeff, saying (in a double lie) that she'd only wanted to say one quick thing, and that was that she thought the plan for the move (which she had vehemently objected to via email) was actually a great idea. Both of these things were direct contradictions to things she had said in emails earlier. When we repeated that we weren't interested in talking to her right now and we would be communicating through email, her mood suddenly swung in the opposite direction. (I thought our response was pretty restrained, since we didn't point out that she had ambushed us, knowing we were angry with her and still ignoring our explicitly stated wishes, and then lied to us right in front of the kids.) She said with angry sarcasm, "What a great example to set for the kids!" (who, if she hadn't decided to corner us right in front of them, would never have even known whether we were emailing or calling), and then turned on the kids are snapped at them to get inside. Speaking of great examples....

I am, admittedly, very angry and still a bit shaken up. Her audacity in lying to us continues to compound every time she gets caught in another one, and her manipulative behavior I could never imagined would have gotten to the point of literally trying to prevent us from physically being able to leave (though, after all, this was the woman who broke into our apartment and then used it as a reason that we might as well give her a key so she wouldn't have to next time, so.... I guess I shouldn't be surprised).

Jeff and I have decided to try a strategy recommended to us by some folks who also have experience with high-drama exes over child custody issues. It's called "low-contact," and there are ten basic rules. It mostly involves making sure that all communication is written and documents, brief and to the point with no room for vagueness or exploitation. There are some recommendations that we're not sure how to handle - for instance, always making exchanges of the kids in public places where the ex can't make a scene or ambush you - but we can work that out somehow.

Reading the list of recommended strategies, I could definitely see some areas where I've been responding or reacting in ways that weren't helpful and that just fed into E's need to create drama and conflict. I'm trying not to be too hard on myself about that, and just resolve to do better in the future and keep my own anger at her in check. I think I got sucked into seeing things from her perspective - not so much agreeing with her, but thinking of the kids as some sort of project that needed to be carefully watched and controlled and protected from negative influences. The other night on the phone, I found myself telling my mother how it was hard to just let things go - especially lies that E tells to the kids - because it wasn't about Jeff or me at all, but about what was best for the kids and that was our end goal: do what is best for the kids. But of course, that's exactly the story E tells herself - that she needs to lie or manipulate others in order to protect the kids and do what's best for them. But ends don't justify the means. Compromising on personal values is not helpful for the kids, no matter what the end result might be. And I don't want to be the kind of person who is always angry and on the defensive and obsessing over all the ways their other care-givers are "doing it wrong." That's just playing E's game. And it's not a game I want to play anymore.

The thing is - last night I prayed to God. I was restless and angry and couldn't sleep, and I just kept arguing with E in my head repeating the same tirades over and over..... Finally, I just closed my eyes and prayed to God - not a god, but God, the god I knew in my childhood, the god I'd grown up knowing as the Christian god, the one who was in some way I never quite understood related to Jesus and his love and sacrifice. And I asked God to help me to find clarity and peace, and most of all to discover in myself the place where I could trust in Love and surrender to that trust and be the better person that I so much wanted to be. And almost immediately, I felt a wave of relaxation sweep over me and soon fell right asleep. And today... well, it's been stressful, yes, especially the confrontation with E. But I do still feel a certain among of clarity, even despite the stress. And that clarity is mostly about myself, and the things that I could be doing better and the ways that I can reclaim that center of myself that's sustained me for so long. That's why I trust it. It wasn't suddenly some clarity about how awful everyone else was or how they could be doing better - it was a way through to my own core, my own center. It wasn't judgement. It was grace.

And that sounds very Christian, I guess. But I still believe in all the things I've always believed in as a Pagan, I still believe that there are many gods and that the world is alive and thriving with beings of all kinds. It's just.... I'm thinking maybe I was too hasty to try to abandon the god of my childhood just because he got slapped with a Christian label before I knew any better. I no longer think of him as the only god, but.... I don't know. Maybe he's still my god, if that makes any sense. Or, at least, one of them. In the somewhat lackadaisical liberal Christianity I grew up with, there was a real relationship there that grew not out of dogma but out of my own self, my own center. And it nourished me and nurtured me and guided me well. Then I learned more about Christianity and understood I could not be Christian in good conscience.... but maybe I assumed that meant I couldn't have that relationship anymore because I'd always assumed it was a Christian one. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe that doesn't matter. It feels sort of like... coming home, the prodigal son.

Or maybe it was a coincidence. I don't know. But I think I want to see where it leads. To allow myself to pray to "God" as I knew him, and see where it takes me. I guess we'll see.

Diary Tarot Card

What insight can you give me tonight to help me find the clarity I seek?

At first, it seems that Temperance (XIV) is a block to the energy flow in the spread. Both the Page of Cups and the Two of Wands face towards the right, towards the future and the realm of activity in the external world; yet Temperance faces towards the right, towards the inner world and the past, where memory and intuition alike reside. After this first impression, though, the spread seems to suggest another interpretation - Temperance as a balance point between two opposites, the watery realm of Cups and the fiery realm of Wands. Even in the card itself, fire and water mingle in a spiraling yin-yang, dancing outward as dragon and phoenix as the angel of Temperance looks on.

So what, then, does Temperance balance? On the left, the Page of Cups is a card of intuition and innocent dreams, a connection to the deep waters of the unconscious where imagination and wisdom are born. The figure (as the artist describes) seeks out a place of quiet solitude where she might contemplate the golden shining reflections in her cup - listening to the still small voice of her intuition and giving free rein to her dreams and inspiration. On the right, the Two of Wands is a card of eager action, looking with attention and energy towards the future. The female figure sits upon her companion, a lion of strength and courage, perched on a high rock outcropping, over-looking the lands of her ancestors and (as the artist describes) imagining what great deeds she might accomplish now that those lands have passed on to her. She looks forward to all the great things she might manifest in the world with the resources available to her, and in her solitary stillness she makes plans and imagines possibilities. Both of these cards are concerned with the future, but those futures concern different realms - the inner and the outer. While the Two of Wands is a figure of strength and courage who is willing to act on her dreams in order to accomplish great things, the Page of Cups is a figure of receptivity and mystery who is willing to quiet her own thoughts in order to explore the realms of the unseen and the only-half-imagined.

Temperance in the center is a card of balance, but not only that. It is a card of dynamic and harmonious balance - in which opposites are brought into a dance with one another, rather than being restricted or arrested in a binding compromise. Temperance is a card of process, and the process is one of balance and harmonious relationship. Both the Page of Cups and the Two of Wands have their vulnerabilities. The Page of Cups is still a young woman, not yet risen to the wisdom of a queen, and her withdrawal into herself to seek her intuition and the inspiration of her dreams can too easily become an excuse for idle fantasy and naive, wishful thinking. On the other hand, the Two of Wands is a card of action and eagerness, at just the start of the journey, but the power of the will can become too outwardly-focused, resulting in rigid willfulness and stagnation which is isolated from the intuitive wisdom that could give it direction and focus. In both cases, a dynamic balance between the two are necessary to give each card's energies limits and boundaries in which to work most effectively.

Yet Temperance faces towards the Page of Cups on the left. In the end, I think this reading indicates that I have moved too much to the right, towards the energies of will and action of the Two of Wands, and that to find that healthy dynamic balance I would do best to look "to the past" and allow myself more of the solitude and stillness I once had, in which to find the time and space to listen more deeply to my own intuition and explore my own dreams. Perhaps this choice might put me at the risk of appearing foolish or naive, too much of a day-dreamer, to those who are eager to judge me as immature, just a silly page. Maybe this is where the courage and strength of the Two of Wands can serve me well - in being willing to be vulnerable in that way, and to more courageously seek out the solitude and quiet that I know my own soul truly needs at times.

Diary - Dreaming the Garuda

I've been under the weather on and off since getting back from our honeymoon, mostly because I've been pushing myself pretty hard with writing and other kinds of work and staying up later than is probably a good idea (also, the time zone shift back to EST was not as easy as the shift to Mountain Time going out, I think). Two evenings ago, I ended up having some sort of stomach/gas pains just as I was going to bed; they lasted through the night (so that I slept only fitfully) and most of the day yesterday, finally going away yesterday evening.

Last night, I had some intense and odd dreams. I don't remember much of them to begin with, but eventually the dream resolved into me going out to a club or party with friends, and needing to stop by a public bathroom where I began to vomit uncontrollably. The vomit wasn't the usual kind, but a kind of white foam that seemed to be generated near the back of my throat and would drain into my stomach from there, making me queazy, and also threatened to actually choke/suffocate me if I didn't continually spit it up into the toilet. Waking up from this dream was so disturbing and quick, that for a moment I thought I had actually vomited or spit up onto my pillow or that I was about to be sick. Luckily, I hadn't and I wasn't. As I lay there, the intensity of the feeling passed, but I remained somewhat queazy for a while.

Falling back asleep again, this time I dreamt that I was in a kind of rental/summer house. Looking outside from a downstairs room, I saw a hound in the backyard that was trying to escape through a wood fence. It had pried some of the wooden slats apart and was about half-way through, its front end outside the yard and its back legs still on the side towards the house where I could see them. Its one back leg looked all mangled and bloody - and I noticed what looked like a great beast crouched down right near the dog on this side of the fence. It had huge talons or claws and shaggy, feathery fur, and it seemed to be about to attack the dog or like it had just finished attacking it. I shouted out in distress and moved across the room to another window for a closer look, and by the time I looked again, the beast had disappeared - but the dog was on the other side of the fence, whole and healthy.

My yelling had disturbed some people in the house who came running and I told them what I'd seen. At first they didn't believe me... but then (as dreams do) some time seemed to pass and in the confusion it was decided that there was a dangerous beast around. (Sometime during this, I was singing and dancing to "In the Jungle", especially the "ooo-EEEE!" part.) I must have been thinking about what I'd seen during that time, because I reached the conclusion that the beast was not hurting but helping the dog and that, despite its monstrous appearance, it was a healing creature. I tried to tell the other people in the house this, saying its name (what kind of beast it was, not its personal name) was something like Celia or Selena or something. No one would listen. Later, I saw it charging away from a horse stable area out by the side of the house. It looked somewhat like a horse, except beastly and monstrous. Imagine a skeleton without any muscle on it, but with just skin draped over it like a thin silk bedsheet.... except the skin was shaggy with feathery fur that was tangled and matted and seemed worn or rotted away in some places. I saw it running towards me and shouted, and people came out, but it was clear that they couldn't see it. Again there was some confusion and someone was sick or injured in the midst of the people gathered outside. They all thought the beast had done it, but only I could see the beast standing just outside the press of people as though trying to get to the injured person (whom everyone was protecting), as though trying to help them.

Then the beast stood up on its hind legs and seemed to transform from a beast into a woman, except that as a woman she was incredibly tall and thin with elongated arms and legs. I could only really get an impression of her and it was impossible to tell if what I could see of her was her clothing or her skin/fur itself - her legs, though long, seemed to be covered with a thick shaggy coat of hair that bowed out around like M.C. Hammer pants almost, and her arms (at first extended out to her sides) had long sleeves that billowed down and looked like draped wings, like a bat's sort of, that folded in as she lowered her arms to her side. Her head was bowed the whole time, with shaggy, matted hair hanging down so that it hid her face entirely from view. She gave me the impression almost of being like a wild animal that could not come near so much noise and clamor and people, and yet to also have a consciousness or intent or instinct to try to help the injured person. There seemed to be a sadness all about her. (After I woke up, it made me think of something I'd once heard of somewhere where a healer would take a sickness from a person and their injury or illness would become a part of the healer instead, so that the healer's body was always diseased and disgusting - but the healer somehow could sustain the disease and so would not die.)

Again there was some confusion and time passing in the dream, and then it was night time and I wanted to go out to the beach under the moon. My parents were nervous about me going out at night, but I went anyway. I drove a minivan and had trouble with the brakes, which were connected to some huge contraption that half-blocked my view in the driver's seat. When attempting to adjust the contraption, it came apart in my hands. I drove for a while along a highway since I could no longer stop, and realized that it wasn't night at all - it was a bright and sunny afternoon, and the darkness had not been night falling but an enormous storm of black thunderclouds that had blotted out the sun. But the storm was passing over (without doing any damage) and leaving the day sunny and fine. It was around this time that I woke up.

When Jeff came in to see how I was in the morning, I was still feeling pretty queazy and drained. I told him about my dream, and when I got to the part about the M.C. Hammer pants, he interrupted me and said it reminded him of the Garuda, a mythological bird-man creature in Hindu and Buddhist mythology. He went and got a card from his Buddha Tarot deck that had the Garuda on it and showed it to me - the figure had bird's legs that billowed out with feathers before coming in again in skinny, scaled bird feet with talons. The rest, though, didn't look much like the figure I'd seen - but mainly because I hadn't been able to see much of the face of the beast except for a vague impression.

Out of curiosity, later I looked up the Garuda on wikipedia. The wikipedia page says that one of the earliest references to the Garuda was in the Vedas, under the name "Śyena" and that it was a mount for the god Vishnu. It was a being associated with healing and in particular with protection against poisons (especially snake poisons). In Buddhist mythology, the Garuda is described as having enormous wings, so large that when they flap they "create hurricane-like winds that darken the sky." The Garuda is much bigger than a man, but can make itself smaller or larger, and is able to take human form in order to have dealings with people. It can also appear or disappear at will.

Doing an image search on Google, most of them looked more similar to the image of Jeff's Buddha Tarot card - but I did find one here that is somewhat similar to it, being longer and taller, and even the face to some extent though I could only ever get glimpses or vague impressions of it - but in the dream, the creature was much more beastly and frightening-looking, which is something it does have in common with many of the other images of the Garuda I was able to find.



Not sure what to make of this dream exactly, but the images of the storm that came afterwards, the shape-shifting and appearing/disappearing of the beast and its association with healing - especially right after the earlier dream where I was vomiting up white foam of some kind - all seem to indicate some kind of correlation.

In any case, I am going to take things easy and try to rest for today. Or however long it takes for me to recover from this cold that's clinging on.

Diary - Flamekeeping

Days of Note: Flamekeeping starts at sundown, Full Claim Song Moon

Sun: leo (fixed fire), 6:28 AM - 8:22 PM
Moon: *full moon, aquarius (fixed air)
Earth: perfect day of nearly cloudless clear skies and gentle sunlight, a relief from the heat and humidity of recent weeks, almost a hint of the autumn weather to come next month and later


At around 4:30 PM this afternoon, Jeff ended work early to go for an extended walk through the woods. The last couple days have been blissfully gorgeous weather, the sunlight golden and the air gentle and cool, lightened from the heat and humidity that have been weighing it down so much in recent weeks. Unfortunately, pain in my legs due to stress (and possibly low vitamins) have kept me sleepless for about three or four nights running now, and this morning I was overwhelmed with worries about the wedding next month and was awake at 5 AM sobbing and angry, so the day began roughly and I was still feeling utterly drained and unfocused even by the afternoon.

Our walk seemed to help that a great deal. We went for a very long walk through Frick Park, down the Upper Riverview Trail, then the Falls Ravine Trail, then left up what I think is called Biddle Trail that passes underneath Forbes and comes out at the far northern end of the park. We went all this way, then turned and followed the wide road that wound down again into the cemetery. Just as we were entering the cemetery - towards the back end, where huge fields of military graves marked with small, sun- and rain-faded flags and sometimes flowers meet up with the edge of the woods - we were stopped in our tracks by four, and then five young bucks moving cautiously out of the underbrush of the wood and into the open fields among the graves to graze in the shade of a large oak tree. They were only twenty or thirty yards from us, and we approached cautiously and sat down in the grass by the side of the road to watch. We must have sat there for a good half-hour as they grazed, every once in a while looking up at us with curiosity, sometimes one or two of them even approaching a bit closer, as though they were trying to figure us out. Jeff and I sat there quietly watching them, trying not to move too much. I thought of how the people in those graves, their bodies were decomposing and going back into the soil, and that soil nourished the grasses that now these deer were feeding on - and the deer so young, five young bucks moving together, there antlers still growing and soft with the sensitive velvet full of blood vessels and nerve endings that make them too fragile and delicate the spar with just yet. There must be something poetic in that.... but it was enough to sit there and watch, and to feel myself making eye contact with those graceful golden animals in the later afternoon sun as they gazed back at me.

Eventually, one of them came close enough that he must have gotten a whiff of our human smell, because suddenly he snorted and stalked back away a bit. The others perked up their ears and all gazed directly at us for a few minutes. Then the same buck snorted again, and then a third time, and haphazardly all five danced off together farther back away from the path and towards the woods again. Not in a rush, but just moving on. One turned back and came towards us several yards again in evident curiosity, but the buck who'd snorted came up behind him as though to watch or warn, and after both of them gazing at us for a minute longer to see if we would follow, both turned back and bounded after the others.

After that, we stood up again and walked on through the rest of the huge cemetery, where it felt so peaceful and empty and quiet. I guess not many people come through there - it's not like it's a park or anything, really, though it backs up to the park. I always imagined cemeteries to be gloomy and sad, but this one was peaceful and lovely, all the graves tended to, families grouped together and occasionally some large monument or beautiful statue or column among the scattered trees. We headed to dinner, then home again, at which point I started my Flamekeeping shift right around sundown.

Though I was still feeling tired (or maybe because I was feeling tired), I decided to do a full circle casting to open and close my ritual tonight. I declared peace to the four directions, then wove the circle with the three elements, then afterwards invited in the energies of the four elements and directions. I spoke the Bond of Druids or Gorsedd prayer, and then did a Three Realms working to connect to the energies of sea, sky and land. By this time, I felt deeply grounded and awake to the current running through me, and I directed that energy into my small pitcher of water, which I charged and then poured as a libation into the blue star fire bowl with the small gold floating candle in it (already lit), marking the center of the rite and opening the gateway. When I parted my hands during the last verse of the prayer to open the gateway, I could feel them buzzing with energy, and from then on during the ritual I felt this deep-pitched ringing or humming in my ears and a profound sense of presence that I haven't often felt in ritual recently. After opening the gateway, I sang my Lady of Star Fire chant as an invitation to Brighid, then hummed the other traditional folk song to her that I know (though I forget the name and can't pronounce the words in Irish Gaelic) while lighting the main Flamekeeping candle and charging up my Brighid's Cross pendant to wear.

After that, I sat in silent prayer for a while, thanking Brighid for her presence in my life and simply sitting with my gratitude. I let her know that I was stressed about the wedding, but so utterly grateful to her for her role in bringing Jeff and I together. I thanked her for all the blessings she's bestowed on me and promised to heed her lessons and do my best to work in her service, even during times when I felt cut off from her. This whole time while in prayer, I felt so close to her, as though surrounded by her embrace or protected all around by her mantle. Finally, I ended my prayers and used my Shadowscape Tarot deck to draw three cards in response to the question, "What lessons do you have for me that I might serve you better?" The cards I drew were, from left to right: Four of Cups, Six of Pentacles, Ace of Swords. (I have some initial impressions on what they might mean, but I want to ponder them more and write a bit about them tomorrow.) To end my ritual, I performed my peace meditation using the Druid Prayer for Peace, and then thanked the four directions and elements, un-wove the circle and ended the rite.

Tomorrow I plan to do some wedding related work along with Jeff - mostly, finishing writing the ceremony, weaving the handfasting cord and then blessing the cord and rings. I'll probably want to do a full ritual with cast circle for that process. I'm hoping I'll get a sounder sleep tonight, especially after such a long walk today. But right now it's getting late, so I'll wrap this up.

Diary - Badger Stone

Days of Note: Flamekeeping

Sun: leo (fixed fire), 6:10 AM - 8:43 PM
Moon: waning crescent, taurus (fixed earth)
Earth: hot and gray most of the day, with skies clearing to steamy blue later in the afternoon, at least a bit cooler than the past several days when we've had a heat advisory in effect and stiffing weather

Badger Stone

During my flamekeeping shift this time, I wanted to work more with Badger, especially considering my intuition that Badger has some kind of relationship with Brighid (though I'm not sure exactly what). Another connection that occurred to me last night as I was hillwalking (more on that in a moment) is that Lady Gregory describes the goddess Brighid as having a face which is half fair and beautiful, and half dark and hideous — and though it is not divided down the middle in half, because of the black-and-white strips you could think of Badger, too, as having both a light and a dark face.

So before my shift began last night, I went hillwalking through the woods with the intention of finding a stone for Badger to sit on my altar. I had gotten it into my head at some point that it was vital to find an icon or statue of some kind for Badger to "live in" on my altar, an object I could involve in ritual and give offerings to — and so I'd spent some time over the last week looking online for a suitable item. I found a few ceramic figurines and such, and one or two carved out of wood and painted, but none seemed to suit. Then the idea occurred to me that finding a stone to decorate on my own would be the best idea — I started referring to it as a "Badger Stone" and that just seemed right and fitting. So last night after dinner, about an hour before sunset and the start of my flamekeeping shift, I headed out into the woods to search for a stone, most likely from the cave that overlooks the ravine near the rock outcropping where I like to sit and meditate. I asked Brighid to guide my steps as I went, and I took along my pouch of herbal and seed offerings as well as a small jar of water to pour in libation to the land. I also brought along my iPod; I just downloaded some drumming audio to help with journey work, and one of the songs I found was from an album dedicated to different animal spirits and totems, this song for Badger. I put this song on repeat to listen to while I walked.

The trance state I ended up in was pretty intense, thanks in part to the drumming and in part to the intense heat. Walking through the woods was practically like being in a sweat lodge in any case, especially as I got into the dimmer areas back in the forest aways, and I was dripping sweat and pretty deep in a meditative state while I walked. I had the visceral, powerful experience of being able to "see" the spirits of things around me, faces peering at me from the trees and stones and fallen logs and bits of bramble and underbrush — not my imagination, but like the chaotic natural patterns of texture, light and shadow resolving themselves into very clear faces and shapes that didn't go away even after a second, closer look.

This actually made choosing a stone a bit difficult, because I was hoping to be strolling along waiting for a particular stone to jump out at me... but instead, every single stone I saw seemed to be alive and aware, asserting itself in my presence. Instead of being able to just pick up whatever stone appealed to me, I found myself having to use discernment and actually assess the character or presence of the stones, inquiring which would be amenable to becoming an altar object and "home" for Badger. Some stones just had too much self-presence to be appropriate (including one that seemed to practically beg to be brought back, so much that I almost chose it in the end, but then decided against it). When I made it to the place near the cave, I took a step or two off the path towards the entrance, and almost immediately saw a stone that looked perfect. I bent down and picked it up, then sat in the entrance to the cave for a time holding the stone and asking permission from the stone itself, the land and finally from Badger if this would be an appropriate stone to work with. At one point, Badger seemed to put his paw on top of the stone in my hand and weigh it down slightly so that I felt a warmth and pressure, as though he were trying to bring it closer for examination. Just after this, I noticed a pattern in the texture of the stone itself that seemed to be a face — like that of an old man — peering out at me, and I asked if he was the stone's spirit and, if so, if he was willing to either share his home with Badger or remain in the woods with the other stones. I felt like I couldn't get a clear answer — so I decided I would bring the stone back with me and do some discernment work through meditation during my actual flamekeeping ritual at sunset. So I left a small scattering of offerings at the place where I found the stone, and poured a libation there too (in part hoping to sort of coax the stone's spirit to stay in the woods and take up a new home there), and then I headed home.

When I got back home, I drank a ton of water and had some chocolate to help ground me and come out of trance. It did help immensely, though it took longer to get back to a normal state of consciousness than I was anticipating (I even saw the faces in the water rippling within my glass as I drank — how hard it is to eat or drink anything, or even leave offerings, when absolutely everything seems so alive and sentient and bursting with presence!).

About half an hour later, I got everything prepared for my flamekeeping ritual, lit my candles and incense and did my usual routine of prayers and welcome to Brighid as I begun my shift. This time, I also asked her help on this creative project that I was hoping to do during my shift this round. I took a moment to go into the bathroom and scrub down the stone I'd found and cleanse it in a mundane way — and then I came back to the altar and spend time smudging and cleansing it with incense smoke and Awen-breaths, turning it over and over so that the smoke clung and spiraled around it in the candle light. It was quite beautiful! While doing this, I did some light meditation seeking to know if this was a good stone for the work I intended. At one point, as I turned the stone over in my hands, I glimpsed it at an angle I hadn't seen it at before, and there in the dancing shadows made by the candle and the texture of the stone itself was a badger face peering at me! So I took that as the signal that yes, this would be a good stone to use after all.

After cleansing and smudging it, I did a Three Realms Working to connect with the energies of the land, sky and sea and blessed and changed the stone. I finished up my flamekeeping ritual and set the stone on the shelf above my bed next to the still-lit candle that would remain lit all night as part of my shift. (This may not have been a great idea — or perhaps I didn't ground well enough after my ritual work — because I found it difficult to sleep all night and tossed and turned with excess energy.)

This afternoon after Jeff took the kids back to their mom's, I returned to the work. I set up the paints and everything I would need, and I browsed some pictures of badgers online to make sure I knew what I was going for. Then, I put on my iPod again with the Badger drumming song on repeat, and got to work. First I traced an outline of Badger on a sheet of paper in pencil based on some of the images I'd found and the texture and contours of the stone, then I transferred the drawing to the stone itself with a pencil, which I then went over again with a thin black permanent marker. Next, I painted the white layer, followed by the black, and at last the nose and two small brown eyes. In between each coat/color, I allowed the paint to dry while meditating in light trance and smudging the stone further with incense burning nearby. The stone was almost complete — but I'd left the eyes a plain brown, not yet giving them black pupils. At this point, I stopped and made offerings to Badger, slicing off a hunk of chocolate and cracking open a beer to pour (these being pretty much the best food in the house at the moment), also eating a small piece of chocolate and taking a small sip of beer for myself to honor the place within myself where I would make a welcome home for Badger.

I then closed the curtains, turned off the lights and closed my eyes, going into deeper trance to the sound of the drums and seeking to present the stone to Badger for approval before putting on the finishing touch and bringing the stone "alive." I spent about fifteen minutes in trance, during which time I went to the Angel Oak tree, called to Badger and then followed him trundling through woods and field back to his burrow, where he seemed to be gathering himself up and straightening things as though in preparation. After a while of this, Badger turned to me and once again put a damp, heavy paw on my upturned palm where I held the almost-finished stone. This time, when he removed his paw, it left a wet, damp paw mark that seemed to absorb into the stone itself. He seemed to smile and laugh and joke about the "likeness" of the stone — and then we came back together and I danced him for a while in my own body (though I have to admit, Badger seems to expect a sense of rhythm and coordination from me that I don't possess!). After dancing Badger for a short time, I invited him into the stone itself. I put the finishing touches on the stone by giving the eyes dark pupils. I blessed the stone again with three Awen-breaths, and as the incense was just burning down, I headed outside into the backyard to place the plate of offerings amongst the flowers in the garden bed. While outside, I got the feeling that Badger wanted to be "introduced" to the world in his new stone, so I held the stone to each of the four directions with greetings of peace and blessings from the East, South, West and North, as well as the presence of the Three Realms.

Then I headed back inside to write this journal entry. It's about an hour and a half until sundown and the end of my flamekeeping shift, so I may write a follow-up post then (or maybe not). I feel as though I haven't done any divination in a while, so I might do a drawing... or maybe not. We'll see. This work on the Badger Stone feels like it's taken a lot out of me, so I might just rest for the remainder of the evening.

Below is a picture of the completed Badger Stone.

Diary - Flamekeeping

Days of Note: Flamekeeping, Fourth of July/"Independence Day"

Sun: cancer (cardinal water), 5:55 AM - 8:54 PM
Moon: waxing crescent, virgo (mutable earth)
Earth: hot and muggy most of the day, occasional shower, then about an hour before sunset, a huge storm with thunder, lightning and hail - now, after dark, fireworks


My flamekeeping shift is soon coming to an end. I've spent most of today working on my response post (first of three parts) to my experiences and observations at the Wild Goose Festival back at the end of June - and trying very hard to ignore what day it is. But how could I think She would let me ignore it.

A storm blew through about an hour ago, with thunder and massive rain that gave way to the pounding of hail (and for the first time, I had the strange experience of fearing for my garden, as though I could imagine myself responsible for the plump little lives that sprung from hard-shelled seeds I did barely more than drop into the soil and encourage with hopeful glances and some occasional weeding). Now the sky to the west is suffused with rose and gold as the storm blows east to lap against the mountains. Jeff had been wishing for a storm all day, in hopes the rain would wash out and ruin the planned Fourth of July fireworks displays. It seems we often have thunder storms during my flamekeeping shifts.

I don't celebrate days like today. I am not a member of the civil religion of this country (though I happened to be born an American citizen, I do not subscribe to Americanism or, as most would call it, patriotism). And because I believe that rituals have power - even when we don't mean them to or believe them to - I do not participate in community rituals that glorify war and violence, that celebrate death and destruction, that serve only to reinforce the boundaries between a righteous Us and an untrustworthy Them.

But because the civil religion is a religion (whether its followers believe it to be or not), I also try as much as I can not to spend my time actively berating those who do participate. It's hard. Very, very hard.

What's harder is seeing Pagans promoting concepts like "Pagan-American" and hailing the invented piece of propaganda known as "Columbia" (named for a man who committed atrocities gleefully against the indigenous peoples of this land and who was denounced even by people in his own time for doing so) as though she were a goddess. Columbia is no more a goddess than Coca-Cola is a god - and I mean that in all its is/isn't tension and complexity.

I can't feel that it's anything but reprehensible and cruel to celebrate a "goddess of the land of America" under the name of a man who tortured and killed so many of those who once lived here. On a day when we supposedly celebrate and honor those brave men (mostly men) who fought for our independence from Britain, do we give any thought to who else they fought - do we remember how Washington earned his promotions through his campaigns against the natives? do we remember that it was not only freedom from colonial rule, but the freedom to rule over an occupied, colonized land that was won? And to turn around and hail the name Columbia! I would retch if I weren't so close to tears.

And Brigid is a goddess of justice, a goddess of peace... but she is also Mother to Sorrow, who saw her son cut down in battle and keened her grief unchecked by shame, a sorrow so all-encompassing it could only be a testament to love. Of course, she would bring me back to thoughts of the Fourth of July when I would rather have ignored it, let it go unmarked and unremarked. Do I have her courage, to wail in public grief, to allow my sorrow and anger to be a testament and song to the greatness of love and hope?

I don't want to. I don't think I have the courage, not this year. I'm tired of being the punching-bag token pacifist. I have no friends or family who made it home from war, I have no claim to respect that would keep the ridicule in check. I can protest until I'm blue in the face - say that though I hate war, I do not hate soldiers, say that though I work for peace, I am not an ideologue or even an idealist - but no one listens.

Except Brigid. Maybe she listens. And this was what brought me to her service, I remember now. I'd read so many descriptions of her, none of which had really rung true. Then I read Lady Gregory writing about her face, how half of it was beautiful and full of light, and half of it was dark and deformed and terrible. And I thought, yes, this I recognize, this is my goddess. Brigid of the Ruined Eye. Brigid, Mother to Sorrow, Lover to Darkness - and yet, Lady of Light, Guardian of Peace. Praise to you.

As polytheists, do we not have the freedom to choose, to worship what gods we will? I will worship the Lady of Star Fire, the holy triple flame who burns ashless, who works in the darkness. I will worship her in her fullness, not only what is beautiful and poetic, but what is wretched and awful and ugly with grief and sadness. I will honor her for her courage, her willingness to be vulnerable before the world. How could I have forgotten this about you, Brigid? Help me to remember. Help me to work in that same service - not only poetry and beauty, but the hard work of justice, the dirty old work of weakness and transformation.

Diary - Flamekeeping

Days of Note: Flamekeeping begins at sundown

Sun: cancer (cardinal water), 5:54 AM - 8:54 PM
Moon: waxing crescent, leo (fixed fire), VoC
Earth: hot and sunny much of the day, with winds this evening blowing in billowing clouds, for a brief shower before moving on again

Flamekeeping Ritual

A few minutes before sunset I sat down to my altar, with incense burning and three candles lit in honor of Brigid. Unfortunately, my white pillar candle overspilled its wax last time it was lit, trapping my flamekeeping pendant beneath it - but I have since begun wearing an acorn pendant instead of my Brigid's Cross as a daily symbol of my Druidry, so I decided tonight to begin using my Brigid's Cross necklace itself as my Flamekeeping symbol. I will also be leaving the LED candle lit until sunset tomorrow, though it wouldn't be safe or practical to leave a real-flame candle burning.

I began my shift with some simple awen breathing, during which it seemed almost as though I could hear Brigid whispering to me. Thoughts kept arising as I tried to quiet my mind, some of which seemed too clear and articulate to really be "my own" thoughts exactly - most of them concerning my neglect of my Flamekeeping and my dourness about the responsibility of doing it tonight (when I was feeling tired and overwhelmed and my back is sore and distracting from the tattoo, which is still healing). The simplicity of the candles flickering and the other ritual objects on the altar reminded me that ritual is meant to be beautiful and moving, not a chore or a burden, and that lately it seems I've been grumbling overly much (not out loud, but kind of subconsciously) about my Flamekeeping shifts, giving Brigid grief instead of my joy and gratitude and praise. So there seemed to be some chastisement there, and a suggestion also that I've been focused too much on expecting Brigid to "prove herself" to me by flooding me with warm-fuzzy feel-goods and inspiration... but not enough focus on my part on what I can offer back to her and to the world in her honor.

After this period of quiet reflection and awen-breath, I said my simple opening-shift prayer while "charging" the Brigid's Cross and hanging it around my neck. Then I followed up with one of my rosary prayers to her, and the Lady of the Star Fire chant that I wrote back in November. (I said these prayers out loud, because I felt I needed to more fully embody them tonight, instead of just "thinking" them silently to myself.) After this, I blessed the small pitcher of water on the altar and offered to Brigid the water, the incense, the light of the flames and my gratitude and honor to her. I offered a few flicks of water to each of the triple flames, and then took a sip to honor the Spirit Within which needs nourishing and care as well.

Following this, I asked Brigid to help guide me and began my divination, using my Shadowscapes tarot deck, asking the question, "What gifts can I offer in honor and service to you, O Brigid?"

The cards I drew were, in this order from left to right:

Eight of Cups | Four of Pentacles | High Priestess

Before I write up an interpretation of the cards, though, I want to finish recording the rest of the ritual. After drawing these cards, I went into a light trance (which was a bit difficult because I had a Jonathan Coulton song stuck in my head and had no drum music, or even a rattle to help me "source" - but I did my best and it seemed to work, in fact better than last time).

This time, I began by seeking the Angel Oak Tree as my beginning place, since it was to a very similar tree that Badger seemed to lead me last time. Stepping within the bright, airy, earthy, crystalline nemeton of the great Live Oak, sure enough there was Badger trundling forward to meet me. I knelt down and we embraced, glad to see each other. I began to ask Badger for help interpreting the cards, to seek an answer to what gifts I can offer in Brigid's honor, but Badger was already on it, digging down into the earth near the roots of the Tree. After only a few inches, Badger had scraped away a hole that seemed to open up into a great, vast deep-blue ocean beneath the earth. Badger dove in and began swimming down down down - I tried to follow, but found myself panicking and rushing back up towards the surface. Badger came back up and inquired what was wrong, and I tried to explain how I was afraid of "drowning" - or of not being strong enough or good enough to survive the plunge. Badger reassured me that not only was I up to the challenge, but that it was absolutely necessary and that this anxiety and clinging to the surface world of things was what the Four of Pentacles was indicating. Badger offered to "light my way," and once again there was that association or connection there with a Solar Badger or Sun Badger (I'm not sure if this is because the badger and bear are somewhat related animals symbolically - and like the bear, the badger hibernates and enters the earth, and so may have solar associations - or also like the groundhog, which may have some association with Brigid - or even just the B-D-G sounds in both names). Now shining with a kind of golden light, Badger swam down into the dark blue depths, and I followed, until it seemed we were no longer swimming, but climbing down a steep damp grassy hill at night towards a light in the distance. As we got closer, the light resolved into a campfire lit at the base of the hill, around which a group of people were gathered, laughing and sharing stories and songs with each other. Badger suggested (though not exactly in words) that I had forgotten that my sense of inspiration came from this kind of congenial sharing among equals, an intimate group joined together by joy and kinship and a sense of sacredness - and that this was very different from the insecurities that were leading me to always try to outdo and prove myself through my writing and other work these days. Next I asked, well, what about the other card, the High Priestess - at which point Badger indicated the moon flooding the hillside and fields and woods surrounding with silvery moonlight. I felt the moonlight suffuse my body, and that sense of looming power from up within myself, as though I'd grown taller than I actually was and was radiating or "expanding" out beyond myself. I protested that I didn't know how to be a High Priestess, but Badger seemed to insist that I have always had the potential to be a great priestess of the gods and to some extent I have been afraid of that calling, even though it's always been there. There was also the sense that serving as a priestess had little to nothing to do with being able to attract a large congregation or group of followers - that was not my job to worry about, it was enough that I serve however I could. I expressed how all of my study recently and all the things I want to learn are so that I can become a better priestess to my gods - but Badger seemed to scoff (affectionately) at that, and suddenly I was half-out of trance and aware of my body again, and Badger was pointing out to me that this was all already within me, deep within - it was not something I had to acquire from an external source through learning, but something I had to learn how to access and trust. After this, I sort of dropped back into the trance-place again and I asked Badger if we could return, so together we walked back up the hill until we were swimming back through the dark waters and breaking surface at the roots of the Great Tree.

After coming out of trance, I thanked Badger for the guidance and support, and in gratitude I danced Badger a bit (this time the dance was more like "swimming" - swinging my arms in waving motions out at my sides and above my head, fingers splayed, while my lower body kind of bounced a bit almost as though I were kicking my back legs as you do when you doggy-paddle).

After this, I ended the ritual by extinguishing two of the three candles, leaving the LED candle lit.

I would like to ponder the meaning of the card reading and maybe write more about it tomorrow (especially because my wrist is beginning to hurt, having to keep it up so the tattoo doesn't rub against the keyboard of the laptop). So more on that later.

Diary - Druidry and Environmentalism

Days of Note: New Field Poppy Moon

Sun: cancer (cardinal water), 5:53 AM - 8:54 PM
Moon: new moon, cancer (cardinal water), VoC
Earth: gorgeous, sunny, not to hot, clear and bright day, gentle breeze, couldn't be more perfect, really

Below is a response I posted to a thread about Druidry and Environmentalism on the TC Neo-Druidry SIG.

Druidry seems to have the reputation of being a "green" religion, taking a special interest in the natural world and our place in it. From ancient harvests of mistletoe from oak trees to modern celebrations of the solstice at Stonehenge, nature often plays a special role in how Druids see the world today.

Does environmentalism play a role in your Druidic path? How do you relate to nature, to both the environment around you and greater planetary concerns? Would you agree or disagree with the perception that Druidry is a "green" religion? Has increased nature awareness/environmentalism inspired you to make certain changes in your life (in your diet, recycling, spontaneous tree hugging, etc)?

Love this and the community service thread! Thanks for starting them. :)

I think you're right on the mark about Druidry's relationship to environmentalism. The Druid Revival began, along with the Romantic Period of the late 18th and early 19th centuries, at least in part in response to the Industrial Revolution and its dehumanizing, world-devouring influences. The Romantics (artists, poets, intellectuals, philosophers, etc.) were responding to the kind of Cartesian dualism that split the mind/spirit from the physical body and the material world. Valuing the aesthetic and spiritual qualities of the natural world was a big part of how they countered this dualism and sought to overcome it. I think these days folks have a tendency to dismiss Revival Druidry as "romanticism" (lower-case) as though to suggest that it's naively idealistic or inaccurate. There are some inaccuracies in it, of course, but Romanticism (upper-case) was a hugely important philosophical movement in the evolution of Western civilization, and modern day environmentalism and conservation (not to mention ecosophy and deep ecology, and even the scientific study of ecosystems to some extent) owe their existence to ideas first explored by the Romantics. If you really wanted to get technical, you could probably argue that any person today who uses the name "Druid" owes at least some thanks to the Romantics for their part in the revival of that spiritual archetype.

But it's not just Druidry's connection with the Romantics that suggests it has some "green" tendencies. From my understanding of ancient Celtic culture, the Celts tended to be much more concerned with the earth and (what we would call) "nature spirits" than some of the other ancient religious traditions of the time. In fact, that was one of the arguments the Romans used in support of their belief that the Celts were mere uncivilized barbarians - that they held their rituals outside among the trees in sacred groves and seemed to worship nature, instead of worshipping "proper" gods in elaborate temples full of refined sculptures. A deep connection with and respect for the natural world runs deeply through Celtic spirituality in general - and actually, it seems to me that the Wiccan focus on the natural world might actually stem from its early relationship (via Gerald Gardner and Ross Nichols) to Revival Druidry and Celtic spirituality. I think it's kind of a shame that some Reconstructionists I've met and talked to these days try to distance themselves from Wicca by dropping this nature-focus and focusing instead on polytheism as of primary importance. (That was actually a discussion we had on another thread, so I don't want to rehash it here! ;))

Personally, the focus on the natural world and environmentalism is so central to my understanding of Druidry, it's fair to say that it's the primary (if not entire) reason I became a Pagan to begin with. I had struggled all my life with the ambivalent role that nature and the earth played in Christianity, looking to saints like Francis of Assisi to try to ease my discomfort with how often world-denying the Christian tradition could be. In the end, though, it just wasn't enough - and when I discovered Druidry, it came as such a relief that here was a religious path where my love of the earth could take a central role. My relationship with the natural world and its wildernesses had always been my main way of connecting with the sacred, and here was a community where that was not only tolerated, but supported and encouraged! Fantastic! :)

My environmentalism has remained a central aspect of my Druidry ever since. My partner and I live very frugally and simply, to lessen our impact on the earth in every way we can. We do all the small stuff - washing our clothes in cold water, refusing to use the car unless absolutely necessary, walking or biking most places, eating a vegetarian diet of mostly local, organic foods, reducing our plastic use to almost nothing, composting in the backyard, etc. We also participate in local environmental activism when we can, and we try to get away into the woods of the local state park to camp at least every few months during reasonable weather. We also both write regularly to advocate for environmental awareness (I'm the blog project coordinator for No Unsacred Place). And since we're getting married in two and a half months, we've spent the past year planning a "green" wedding and we're going for Platinum Certification for our wedding through the Live Green Live Smart Institute.

But maybe one of the most important ways that we blend our environmentalism with our spirituality is by actually trying to cultivate and nurture our relationship with the local landscape. I've been studying deep ecology and eco-philosophy for the past year or so, and slowly been learning more and more about our bioregion and its needs and moods. My spiritual practice challenges me to move away from an anthropocentric worldview and learn to see the world and all its beings as part of a "ecology of Spirit," all interconnected and valuable in their own right.

Wow! I didn't mean for this to get so long! But it's such a great topic, and a really important one, too. :) Thanks again for starting the thread!

Diary - Spirit Animal

Sun: cancer (cardinal water), 5:50 AM - 8:54 PM
Moon: last quarter, pisces (mutable water), VoC
Earth: hot and muggy all day with thick clouds this morning giving way to sun this afternoon, with evening comes more clouds again and rustling wind hinting at a thunderstorm


So I finally had a chance to try out some of the shamanic journey work from the book Jeff got me for my birthday, Caitlin Matthews' Singing the Soul Back Home: Shamanic wisdom for every day.

For the ritual, I did draw a circle (with incense) to ward and protect the space, and then invited in the blessings of the four directions. Next, I did the DOTR Three Realms working to connect to below, above and center (my way: sea, sky and land/tree, respectively). Once grounded and centered, I took off my glasses and tied on the blindfold to help with trance work.

For this first attempt, I followed Caitlin Matthews' advice about first trying to connect with your instrument and then finding a "spirit animal." I have a small, square clay rattle — forget where I got it — that seems modeled after some Native American look, with spirals carved into one side. So to begin, I spent some time exploring the rattle and trying to use it in different ways to get a consistent sound. It was more difficult than I'd anticipated and I found that it was very hard to keep a consistent beat with it — it seemed like the beads (or whatever is inside the rattle) would get kind of stuck in a corner if I shook the rattle too consistently in just one direction, so that the rattle would become muted and almost silent…. but thinking too much about it and trying to intentionally vary the movement of my hand often resulted in an uneven rhythm or just plain confused coordination.

I did eventually find a way of holding the rattle where I could get a consistent beat without having to consciously think about it, so at that point then I tried to do some journey work. Caitlin Matthews recommends beginning every journey in the Middle World from a real location — not necessarily the location you're actually in, but some location that actually exists in the physical world somewhere and that you've been to. So instead of going to my "inner grove" as I would normally do, I tried to go to this one outcropping on Mount Desert Island in Acadia, where the cliffs jut out into the ocean and the low pine forests always seem shrouded in fog. It's a very quiet, mist-strewn and magical place and I've felt more than once that I could very well slip between the worlds there. It's also where I saw those wild otters running through the underbrush that one year. So I reached out to try to get there…

But not all that successfully. I felt like I couldn't concentrate very well and kept slipping in and out of focus. I think there are several reasons for this: (a) Not being used to trying to rattle and meditate at the same time. (b) The rattle itself not giving the most resonant rhythm to journey with. (c) Trying to go to a location that I don't have much practice going to. (d) My slight physical discomfort because of the stuffy, overly warm room, the heaviness of the blindfold which made me even warmer, and a mild headache probably from lack of food and/or water. Not the best conditions for trying to do journey work, but it was the only time I really had.

Once or twice, I seemed to catch glimpses of animals — but for a long time, none really came close enough for me to connect or communicate with them in any way. A seagull here or there out over the ocean, that type of thing. I tried to keep my purpose in mind during the work, repeating my intention to journey in order to meet my spirit animal... but for a while, it was touch and go and I was getting frustrated. Once or twice, I seemed to see some kind of creature in front of me on the trail among the trees and undergrowth, but couldn't get a clear impression.

Eventually, I decided to stop rattling and try journeying in silence. I laid down on my back (to relieve the cramped circulation in my left leg from the way I'd been sitting) and untied the blindfold, just draping it gently over my eyes instead. I continued to try to stay focused on the journey work, but I may have started to drift off to sleep or allow my mind to wander. At one point, though, I realized that in my mind that sure enough I was following along behind an animal, short and stocky and low to the ground. I'm not sure if this was in dream or trance or what, but when I realized it, I tried to clarify the impression and asked of the creature if it was my spirit animal whom I'd come to meet. It turned to look at me briefly, and for a second I couldn't tell quite what I was looking at, but then the impression resolved into a grayish, shaggy badger (with the deep black face and the white stripe down its forehead to its nose).

My first reaction was to scoff and think that this couldn't be my spirit animal, because I felt no connection with that animal at all and it seemed so... dull and mundane. Part of me noticed some similarity between the badger and the white dog, Moira, who has shown up in some of my meditations before, and I wondered if this was Moira just in a different guise. I tried to ask the badger its name and find out if it was Moira, but it shrugged and trundled off along the path. I think at this point I began to fall asleep again, because though I continued to follow it, I started to hear very clearly two voices arguing — they were male, youngish, with thick stereotypically Mexican/Hispanic accents — and though I couldn't see anyone (it was as if the voices were behind me or as if my eyes were closed, though I could still see Badger ahead of me), they continued to argue loudly about whether or not Badger was my spirit animal. One of them said (speaking to me, not to the other) something like, "Oh, so, it won't speak to me, so now it won't speak to you!" as though in explanation for why the badger didn't seem interested in speaking and had turned its back on me and trundled away.

Then suddenly, I realized I'd lost track or lost sight of where Badger had gone, but I was standing in front of a huge, thick-trunked tree. Though I hadn't seen anything, I had the vague impression that Badger has actually become the tree, and the tree seemed to have an gnarled old face in its trunk, made from the bumps and knots of the bark. I looked down and it was as though the ground beneath were clear or transparent somehow, or that at least I could see through it, because I could see the roots of the tree reaching down into the earth and rock and spreading out in all directions, just as I could see the branches of the tree spreading out above. It was almost like looking at a painting or drawing (or photoshopped photograph) of a tree with a "reflection" in the ground, except the reflection wasn't a mirror image reversed of the leafy branches, but definitely and distinctly twining, dirty roots. Not sure what to do, I sat down under the tree, my back against the trunk and found myself doing the DOTR Three Realm working the way I had done when visiting the Angel Oak last month.

The loud, obnoxious invisible voices continued to argue back and forth, until at some point I kind of interrupted them and asked them to shut it. Then I tried reaching out to Badger again to see if it would come back, and there it was, coming out from behind the tree trunk. I asked politely if I could come closer, and it sat back, upright on its back haunches, and allowed me to approach. I saw its amazingly powerful claws, and its small eyes peering at me. I started to think about all the various references to badgers I'd seen recently - the story Emma Restall Orr tells in her book about a badger coming across her in meditation in the woods, the "honey badger don't give a shit" youtube video Ryan showed everyone at the last work conference, some vague impression that maybe the badger was related to the groundhog and was therefore connected somehow to Brigid... When Badger seemed to lose patience with my wandering, chattering mind and clicked it claws at me, then leaned back down onto all fours and trundled off again. I realized I couldn't keep focus for much longer in any case, so at that point I ended the journey work.

I sat back up and wasn't sure what to do for a moment. I was so skeptical of Badger being my spirit animal, fairly convinced that it was just some weird thing in my subconscious picking up pop culture references or something... but I knew that the next step, according to Caitlin Matthews, was to "Dance the Animal" to welcome it and give it a chance to live in the world through you. So in the small space I had in the study where I was set up for ritual, I sort of sat on my haunches and began to try to dance in a way that mimicked the movement of Badger. Since most of my journey had been spent watching it shuffle away, I started by kind of rocking my hips back and forth, as though "trundling in place" — then I allowed this movement to kind of carry all the way up my spine until my whole torso was shifting and twisting back and forth. I got the urge to move my arms as well, and so began to rock them backwards and forwards, swinging them as though walking — it took a bit to get the hang of it and coordinate the swinging with the rocking of my hips. I did this for quite a while (it seemed like a while, anyway), breathing kind of heavily, almost snuffling. By the end of it, I felt... great. The dancing, even in place, was amazingly helpful in seeming to ground me in my body and integrate the Badger energy, so that by the end I no longer was skeptical or scoffing at the idea that Badger might be my spirit animal after all.

To end the ritual, I blessed my small blue pitched of water, and gave a few flicks of water to the fire in thanks to the spirit of Badger, then took a sip of the water to honor the Badger spirit within me as well. I then did some poking around online to see if I could find out anything about the meaning or associations of badgers in mythology... but that'll have to wait until another time.