Diary

Days of Note: Seakeeping with Manannan

Sun: pisces (water/mutable), 7:32am - 7:27pm
Moon: *waxing gibbous, leo (fire/fixed)
Earth: gray, somewhat chilly and rainy all day, though at least we seem to be safely past the snowy season, if not the morning frosts

I'm raging again tonight. Every once in a while I get into moods where everyone just strikes me as stupid and selfish and, despite my pacifism, I want to kick people in the head.

What set me off this evening was reading Rand Paul's rant about low-flow toilets. How a grown man can throw such a self-entitled tantrum that would make our eight-year-old roll his eyes, and do so as a member of an elected government.... ! Jeff insists he's just blinded by his particular ideology, to which I responded, "Well I'd like to kick him in the head so that he would be blinded by my foot in his face!" Low-flow toilets! Of all the things! Like there aren't people who use a bucket or a hole in the ground... like there aren't people in this country who do it by choice as part of their effort to live an environmentally respectful lifestyle, recycling their own byproducts through their compost toilets and giving themselves back to the earth, ensuring there will be enough clean water for the rest of us. And meanwhile, studies are rolling in that those most disproportionately affected by the climate change crisis are those who tend to contribute the least to the world's pollution — those who live impoverished and close to the land — while studies show that we Americans with our air-conditioned SUVs rumbling around the suburbs are growing increasingly less worried about climate change in recent years. It drives me nuts!

And then my cousin, who can sometimes be a bit, well, judgmental, makes a passing remark on Facebook about how as a journalist she used to hate interviewing writers because they always had such big egos. Which, even if it's not an intentional swipe at me personally, still feels like one. Like there's this whole nobility that comes with struggle and failure, like those of us who are passionate about our work shouldn't dare take pride in our accomplishments — or like working to cultivate a thriving community of "niche" readers in love with your subject matter means you're still just a "little fish in a huge sea" and shouldn't imagine that what you do is actually -laugh- important!

Then the irony hits me.

I can't fully articulate it, but there must be a lesson here, about judgement and kindness and rage and passion. And community. What strikes me over and over is how hard it is to save the world each on our own. Every effort Jeff and I make, every step we take towards a healthier lifestyle is one that we take, firstly, as a family, and secondly, as members of our local community. It would be impossible to do this if we didn't live in an urban neighborhood with stores within biking and walking distance, if we didn't have the local co-op with organic, local produce, if we didn't have restaurants nearby specializing in vegetarian and organic cuisine, if we didn't have neighbors and community volunteer programs involved with keeping the city parks clean and available, or protecting the local landscape from developers and corporations. And still, I feel like I'm not doing enough. And when I think of folks in the suburbs, I get angry. I get judgmental.

What I should probably be doing is seeking kindness, and passion. Passion will connect and grow, where rage only isolates and repulses. Kindness opens people up to the possibility that they are good enough, that a good and healthy life doesn't have to be one of desperation and frustration and struggle. There is nothing wrong with taking pride in what we do to help one another and improve the quality of life for ourselves. Harping on how hard and tiring it is to drag American culture along by its teeth into the realities of the twenty first century isn't going to win anyone over. If change and health is something that we can only find in community (with each other, and with the earth), then first we have to nurture and share those things that help to foster community: joy, laughter, kindness, generosity, and gratitude.

I can feel the rage like a physical entity in my body. When I sit for a moment and breathe, I can feel how close that rage is to love and excitement, how easy it is to change my mind about the physical sensations coursing through this meat-space of mine. In a few breaths, that energy is transformed and directed, no longer a destructive force that wants out through clenched fists and tensed muscles, but now something that I can work with, shape and direct to transform the world.

This is what daily practice is for. This is why meditation and prayer are so absolutely vital. The tools to transform rage and anger and frustration and fear — to change them from the center. To reform and redirect, to refine and renew. I can do this. I can learn to do this.

Diary Tarot Card

© Stephanie Pui-Mun Law, The Shadowscape Tarot

The King of Pentacles stands sure and steady in the center, presenting a choice or offering alternatives. A figure of stability and generosity rooted deeply in the earth, he remains grounded and humble (close to humus) even as his aspirations reach ever higher towards the sun and rain above. The choices he presents, with his wise guidance, are two alternatives, two ways of handling the energies of the earth that well up within, drawn from the roots and gathered in from the limbs.

The Nine of Wands is a choice that brings us constant vigilance and resolve, tensed with uncertainty, straining into the future and what it may hold. The lone sentinel astride his mount, poised on the cliff, already worn with previous battles and perhaps overly eager to see strife and conflict in what's to come.

The Four of Wands, on the other hand, is a choice of freedom and joy, celebration and jubilation, finding harmony and balance among our energies so that, through them, we discover our freedom and lightness of being. Lush flowers bloom below as the sun shines above, and we discover ourselves not alone, but part of a community dancing and bounding with gladness through the beauty-charged landscape.

Both these choices lead in the same direction. The center figure, the King, holds his arms out in an equal length cross from his chest, reaching towards each. But to his left, the Nine of Wands, his open hand is lost in shadow, while to his right, his open palm shines in sunlight, holding the glimmering, golden acorn, seed of great and mighty things to come. Prosperity, generosity and stability come not from the battle-weary and bitter, but from the energies of joy and gladness shared in community, which lead back to the center, back to the feet of the King himself.

Divination: The Relationship between Manannan and Brigid

I just finished Robert M. Place's The Tarot: History, Symbolism and Divination (one of the books I got Jeff for Solstice this year), and so I thought it might be worthwhile to experiment with his three-card story technique. One of the spreads he recommends is a nine-card "relationship spread," so I used that spread to explore the potential relationship between Manannan and Brigid Star Fire. My clarity in the question ("What is the relationship between Manannan and Brigid?") may be somewhat lacking, since I didn't exactly ask what their relationship was in regards to me, and I'm not sure my interpretation of the cards will be all that accurate since I've only experimented in a kind of intuitive way with three-card story readings before (jumping to a full nine-card spread may have been ambitious, now that I'm looking at the cards all laid out in front of me). But here goes:

(g) (h) (i)
(a) (b) (c) . . . (d) (e) (f)

Manannan

© Stephanie Pui-Mun Law, The Shadowscape Tarot

(a) The Star (XII) - A card above all of hope, renewal and inspiration, the guidance of starlight emerging from darkness and difficulty. There is respite, rebirth and peace in this card, the optimism that resides in stillness and quiet, in which the first stirrings of joy begin. The image of the card is dominated by the soft blues and purples of water in ripples and swirls around the figure of the Star stepping delicately over the surface of the water. Around her swim golden carp, and above her shines a seven-pointed star in silvery-white reflected in the rippling curls of her hair. All is still and quiet, shimmering. The figure of the Star walks forward, but looks to her right (my left) with a hand upraised in blessing.

(b) Ace of Wands - A card of energetic beginnings and passion taking root, the wand of fire planted firmly in the ground alights with inspiration and creativity. This card seems to reflect the classic meaning of new beginnings and fresh starts in the realm of activity, yet the image depicts an autumn landscape at sunset, golden-colored fallen leaves swirling and rustling around the feet of the foxes, while small red mushrooms push their way up from the soil nearby. This spark or seed of creativity illuminates and draws out the creatures and spirits of the woods that otherwise may not be seen — just as in autumn, with the baring of the trees can reveal new aspects of the landscape usually hidden by the thick green of foliage. Of the three foxes, one faces right, one left, and the third forward — this last has a sun-spiral tattoo on his flank, spiraling outward. The seed of fiery energy and passion can take root even in a waning season, and germinate and grow throughout the spiraling year.

(c) Page of Pentacles - The Page perches upon a mounded rock around which an ancient dragon, green and verdant, curls asleep and dreaming of prosperity, fecundity and opportunity. She holds forward glowing in her left outstretched hand a small golden orb, the spark of opportunity and initiative, the key and invitation to plunge in and enjoy the sensuality and physicality of the world. She faces forward on her perch, as does her owl companion, though the sleeping dragon faces off to the left (my right), towards the center of the spread.

Story: The general flow of energy in these three cards seems to be from the central card (the Ace of Wands) outward in two directions, towards The Star and the Page of Pentacles on either side. One fox each faces left, right and straight on — my interpretation of this is what Place calls the "central teacher" pattern, in which a central figure is pointing out or commenting on two options or alternatives. The spark of creativity and passion symbolized in the Ace of Wands takes on two different forms. In The Star, that spark becomes a silvery seven-rayed point of light, far distant yet able to give guidance and hope in the midst of darkness. The figure of the Star reaches towards the utmost left of the spread, in fact almost directly pointing towards the placement of Manannan's candle and shell on my altar. In the other card, the Page of Pentacles, the spark of energy in the Ace of Wands becomes an invitation or offered gift to take the plunge into a sensual, pleasurable engagement with the physical world and encouragement to seize the opportunities presented. Though this card, too, is mostly a forward-facing one, there is some movement of energy to the right, towards the center of the spread. The Ace of Wands, as a central teacher, seems to be suggesting that these two approaches to an initial spark of inspiration need to be balanced and brought together — the intertwining bodies of the foxes, the spiral tattoo that draws both together, and the spiraling double-twist of the staff on the wand itself seem to suggest bringing these two approaches together to inform one another.

Brigid Star Fire

(d) The Hanged Man (XII) - A card of willing surrender and self-sacrifice, especially a time of reversals, transformed expectations and a new perspective on the world that can bring further insight and breakthroughs. The figure of the Hanged Man is one of release, but also of tenacity and strength, the inner courage and commitment to see through a period of difficulty and sacrifice, a suspension of the ego on the World Tree. Upside down, hanging from the branches of the huge oak, he faces off to the right, but his head tilts back so that he almost seems to be craning to gaze left from his inverted position. Above his hands, protected by the fold of his legs, he cradles a small, glowing golden orb similar to the one the Page of Pentacles offers.

(e) The Moon (XVIII) - A card of dreams and things half-seen in the pale moonlight which sometimes seems to only create more shadows and uncertainties in amongst the dark trees of the woods. The figure of the Moon stands within a ring of mushrooms, an enchanted faery circle glistening with tiny fireflies and dew. She holds up her left hand pointing upwards, a tiny red heart in her palm, and in her other hand she holds a strange, white mask with elongated nose and red ribbons trailing from it, which she turns her head (to her right, my left) to contemplate. Above her, a gray-white bird, possibly a doe, flies off to the left above her head. She is a figure deeply involved with masks, questions of identity and honesty — she holds at once the bright heart of true emotion revealed to all, and the mask that one might use to conceal it. She stands within a sacred circle, danced around by faery beings, yet she appears solitary and singular in the center, not exactly participating in the gathering. The world around her seems very much like a dream world, both obscure and revealing.

(f) Nine of Cups - The mermaid-figure in this card marvels at the swirling beauty around him, so rich and luxurious — the school of golden fish turn and move, circling almost as one being, sparkling and shining in the dark waters, and the mermaid seems to bow in reverence and gratitude in amongst them. This card symbolizes wealth and luxury, especially in terms of emotional contentment and gratitude, and suggests a feeling of exquisite harmony and fluidity in how everything seems to be coming together. The mermaid faces left, towards the center of the spread, but although the fish swirl around him, many seem to face to the right, towards the placement of the candle of Brigid Star Fire on my altar.

Story: It seems as though these three cards might be illustrating what Place calls a "central problem" pattern, in which there is no clear energy flow and the central card is blocking or dispersing the energy. The center card, The Moon, faces forward, but her face is turned towards the left (her right), with both hands raised. This might also be a "central teacher" pattern or even a linear pattern from right to left, where the final card (the Hanged Man) is turned to meet the action. The figures in these cards seem much more ambiguous than in the Waite-Smith deck Place works with, so I'm not exactly sure how to interpret the energy flow in this story. Assuming a linear pattern to the energy flow, the story moves from the Nine of Cups towards the right — suggesting a beginning in harmony and emotional contentment that then leads through a period of confusion and uncertainty as the Moon contemplates an open, revealed heart on the one hand (literally) while contemplating the mask in her other and what role it might play. This uncertainty and exploration into the dreamworld leads to the final card, the Hanged Man, who is turned to face the on-coming action but holds behind him (to the left, nearest the center of the spread) the glowing ember of possibility and, perhaps, renewal. This interpretation might suggest that a period of confusion will lead to a revolutionary change in perspective, turning the world upside-down and revealing new insights. In some ways, a central teacher or central problem interpretation sees very similar meaning in these three cards, with the Moon acting as a turning point in the process that can either block or give aid during a transition from the emotional contentment of the Nine of Cups to the wisdom-gifting self-surrender of the Hanged Man.

The Bridge Between

(g) Two of Swords - A card of blockage and impasse, the hooded figure stands in the center of the path, blocking the way with drawn swords crossed. A dark and immovable figure in the midst of the forest, his eyes are hidden by his hood so that he cannot see the offerings of the two swans by his side — the small, red heart of love and receptivity and the red-orange flower, possibly a poppy, symbol of sleep and death which open up the way for dreams of respite and renewal. He is frozen like ice, his back towards the right, the center of the three-card spread.

(h) Justice (XI) - A card of balance and harmony, a clear and even mind capable of weighing all things carefully and perceiving clearly and with piercing insight their true character and quality. A card concerned with truth, even when such truth is as subtle and light as the lightness of a feather or a butterfly's wing — in many ways, Justice is also a figure that turns inward to consider the inner tensions within the soul itself, seeking a balance that will help to ease these tensions and allow a return to center and equilibrium from which to take just and appropriate action in the world. The figure of Justice holds the light father-like sword of insight and discriminating mind close to her breast, turning her insight inwards, while holding out the balanced scales to influence and respond to the world around her. She faces forward, balanced and symmetrical in her stance.

(i) Eight of Wands - A card of energy and activity, beginnings and initiatives that move forward with the momentum of what has come before but that leave behind established projects to seek new ground in which to plant new seeds. The figure in the Eight of Wands sets loose her seeds drifting in the wind, carried to new fertile ground where they may germinate and take root, growing into new saplings and eventually great trees. But this process seems to happen largely without personal effort or involvement, carried along simply by the force and energy of the activities themselves and the wish that set them spinning out into the world on their gossamer filaments. The figure faces away from the center, towards the right, watching as her wishes are carried off by the wind.

Story: The flow of energy in these three cards very clearly fall into the pattern Place calls the "central origin" — a central card facing forward, with cards on each side facing away from the center in opposite directions. In this case, the center card of Justice may indicate a current pattern in the relationship and the two results that may arise from such a pattern. Clear insight and discernment, with a focus on finding a careful balance and weighing truth against truth, gives rise, on the one hand, to the Eight of Wands, a card of momentum and energy (especially one that will lead to new beginnings) that are largely impersonal in nature and somewhat "left up to" the forces and whims of nature. This might mean that the stillness and inward-turning nature of Justice is likely to give rise to activity of a dispassionate and impersonal nature, instead of a more personal involvement and engagement. In the other direction, another result that may arise from the pattern embodied in Justice is the Two of Swords, an impasse in which the swords of analytical thought are held at cross-purposes, barring the way and preventing a deeper receptivity to the gifts being offered. Given that the Two of Swords appears to the left, closer to Manannan's side, and the Eight of Wands appears to the right, closer to Brigid Star Fire, this suggests to me that too great a focus on discernment and balance may lead to an impersonal but potentially fruitful relationship with Brigid, but will only serve to block or prevent a deeper relationship with Manannan, whose fluidity and receptivity might be stymied by over-analysis.


Overall Interpretation: I find this reading difficult and rather ambiguous in its meaning, and I suspect one of the biggest reasons why is because I did not clarify enough in my own mind exactly what I was asking before beginning. Am I treating Manannan and Brigid as two distinct entities and asking for insight into how they relate to each other, as though they were two mutual friends of mine and I was looking for insight into their relationship? Or am I asking for insight into how each of these deities fits into my spiritual life in an integrated way that brings them into relationship? In other words: where am I, as querent, in this spread? I think the second version of the question is probably the closest to the one I was intending (though having a clearer question in mind may help in the future). If that is the case, then it seems likely that the three cards for each deity suggest how that deity is in relationship to me and how that relationship shifts or changes with the involvement of the other deity; while the "bridge" between the deities seems to be about my own attitudes in how to consciously connect them or bring them into relationship in my practice and approach. What's interesting is that, for each deity, the card closest to that deity and farthest from the center seems to reflect or echo the "core" of the other deity: the card closest to the heart of Manannan is The Star, a symbol that I have been connecting deeply with Brigid (Star Fire); the card closest to the heart of Brigid is the Nine of Cups, an intensely watery card depicting an underwater ocean scene. In both of these cards, water and fire, darkness and light share an intimate relationship with one another, suggesting that it is unwise, if not impossible, to try to separate them out into distinct entities without running the risk of diminishing one or both. As the relationships in each of the three cards moves towards the center, ambiguity and uncertainty seems to enter the picture (especially in regards to Brigid), but the card closest to the center in each three-card grouping holds that seed of light that is offered as a potential new beginning, new opportunity or new insight into the world. In this case, the "bridge" with a fulcrum as Justice, concerned with separating out and discerning between opposites, might represent my intellectual attempts to reconcile these changing relationships and clearly delineate each deity, though it seems such an attempt may be wrong-headed and unhelpful right from the start. This seems especially ironic considering that at the beginning of my reading, I spent a minute in meditation reaching out to the energies of water/sea below and fire/sky above, joining them together in the earth/tree of my body (as per the DOTR three realms working from Lesson 2) and asking for clarity of insight in my reading.

With that, I'm going to do a final three-card reading asking for advice to see if this interpretation may be even remotely on the right track.

Final Advice

(c) Ace of Cups - A gift and beginning, the first drop of water that unites with the ocean, merging with the source of all water and life, sending ripples out in all directions. This card is one of utter unity and wholeness, the emotional and intuitive core from which all else springs and ripples outward — mystical in its connection the the sacred grail or chalice, source of life. The first stirrings of gladness and joy, an initial surge of connection and attraction, as the tides are pulled by the moon, it is also a card of imagination and receptivity.

(b) Queen of Wands - A fiery queen of passion, initiative and energy, she stands at her harp, her living wands, drawing the delicate strains of music from its strings as the creatures of the forest still to listen, entranced by her energy and enthusiasm. As queen, she has the maturity and composure to balance her fiery energies with receptivity and love, and these weave through each other to lend beauty and depth to her activities. She is self-confident, playful and at ease with herself, whether she is the center of attention or retired into the background.

(a) King of Cups - A king of intuition, emotion and receptivity, he governs with endless patience and calm, deeply in touch with the emotional and spiritual needs of his subjects. He is a protector and provider, offering healing and cleansing from his sacred chalice. Balancing out the receptivity and fluidity of his natural element with his maturity and authority as king, bringing structure and order to his realm. Yet his authority arises not from imposition or control, but from being deeply attuned to the patterns and currents of intuition and emotion that flow through the world.

Story: The pattern in this final three-card reading is obviously, almost overwhelmingly linear, moving from right to left, from the Ace of Cups through the Queen of Wands to the King of Cups. All of the figures in these three cards face to the left (even in the Ace of Cups which might be expected to be forward-facing, the golden fish that arise from and swim around the chalice face to the left). In this story, then, it seems that the Ace of Cups represents a beginning, an initial gift of connection and intuition that then led to a relationship with the Queen of Wands, a queen of fire, energy, passion and creativity. This seems to clearly indicate a relationship with Brigid (Celtic fire goddess). Through this relationship with the Queen of Wands, there is then movement towards the King of Cups, a powerful king of the depths of intuition and emotion. Again, this seems to so obviously indicate Manannan, not only in imagery and symbolism, but in the suggestion of intense emotional engagement that I feel with him. The three cards, moving from right to left, actually move across my altar from my Brigid candle to my Manannan candle, again seeming to indicate a linear movement from one to the other. Yet, the fact that Brigid is represented by a Queen and Manannan by a King (each of which themselves have a balance of energies within them — fiery feminine, watery masculine) seems to be a strong suggestion that, even within this linear progress, Brigid and Manannan are paired as a couple and are intimately related to each other. Overall, the advice of this final reading seems to be to accept the unfolding progress of events at face value — a linear movement through/away from Brigid and towards Manannan — and to allow myself to explore this relationship with Manannan more deeply, but without worrying that to do so will somehow weaken my relationship to Brigid. As a fiery Queen of Wands used to being the center of attention and showing up in the center of the spread, it's unlikely she will be going anywhere any time soon.

Diary

Days of Note: Last Quarter White Waking Moon

Sun: pisces (water/mutable), 7:03am - 6:04pm
Moon: last quarter, scorpio (water/fixed)
Earth: quite a bit of sunshine all day, though still cold and very little melting going on - the bird seed I scattered after last week's thaw thinking, foolishly, that we were in the clear is now under three to four inches of snow, except for the seed I scattered on the low partition wall just outside the dining room window, where the birds have brushed aside what little snow snuck in under the awning and made a feast of it where the cat can watch them


There are a lot of things to be angry about these days. Let's start with the good news: today, the scale said I'd lost a pound, despite the gorging on holiday chocolates for the past week. Also, early this morning, the package from Amazon arrived with Jeff's Official Valentine's Day present for me: two new books, including the new David Abram that I've been salivating over for months (and another, about the role of fiction in the evolution of the human mind).

Now the bad: The check from my last invoice was only just mailed out today, delayed almost two weeks because the person who has to sign off on these things was traveling. This is the second time in in the past few months with this new job that a check has been delayed so long that I've had to go nearly a month without income. With bills and student loans to pay, not to mention wedding savings, the unreliability of a regular income even while I'm working the max number of hours I'm allowed to according to my contract... well, it's frustrating. I have to be one of the more fiscally responsible adults I know, and yet even with my "cushion" of savings, it's hard to go so long without money coming in, and especially frustrating as I know that I have been putting in the hours and that the money will arrive eventually. I am, technically, allowed to send an invoice whenever I want. I had been sending them regularly every two weeks, on the dot, assuming that even if there was a wait of a week or so, after a few weeks of working those checks would be arriving regularly, albeit delayed. But as it turns out, I receive payments seemingly at random, sometimes within a day, sometimes more than two weeks late, with no way to predict. It is certainly a change from the immediacy of earning cash as a waitress when I knew, even if over time I didn't earn as much, what I did earn was mine immediately. You never starve when you can earn cash enough to at least buy your next meal. But a person could get into real trouble with all of this imaginary money being promised to them, and the checks never seeming to come.

But that's just on the personal side of things, and even that's not a big deal, just a minor frustration. On the socio-political side of things: I may have to rethink my policy about not voting unless there's a candidate I actually support. As news comes out, week after week, of all of the truly disturbing, woman-hating, worker-hating, minority-hating legislation and policies coming from Republicans since they won back their coveted power-seats in the last election, they are really challenging me to redefine the "worse" of two evils. The idea of paranoid game-theory in the voting booth makes me sick to my stomach, when the "lesser of two evils" seems still so very evil and backwards and destructive and militant. But if you had wanted to argue with me that "things could be a whole lot worse" back around election time, you would probably have made some headway if you suggested that, once voted in, Republicans would take serious and far-reaching steps to roll back women's and workers' rights to pre-1950s standards. Of course, I wouldn't have believed you. I would have thought you were exaggerating.

I feel sometimes like the ones who walked away from Omelas. Except that I can't walk away, not with Jeff's kids. It's not even like our jobs prevent us — anywhere-with-internet work-from-home stuff would be so very liberating.... but in the end, they just prove frustratingly unreliable, an excuse for Emily and others to assume that our schedules are infinitely flexible. (And thank the gods we don't have the kids this weekend, since my check being so long delayed means we barely have enough money between the two of us to feed ourselves. Like we live extravagantly or something, with our oatmeal breakfasts and our puny salads twice a day.)

I am so very bitter and frustrated sometimes. I feel helpless and overwhelmed, when I get emails from MoveOn.org and other places about protests and petitions. There will be protests on Saturday in solidarity with the union workers in Wisconsin, and my first reaction was: I wish we could go, but we have the kids. When I mentioned it to Jeff and he reminded me that this is our first weekend off without the kids in more than three months, my next thought was: so we could go.... until he asked, "Is that really how you want to spend our only weekend off?" Just the thought of it made me tired. We still haven't been able to officially celebrate Valentine's Day because of these check delays and our schedule being jammed so full it hurts. But not to go... feels so selfish, like I am weak and small and, just like everyone else, so busy running the rat race that I have no energy left to resist. I didn't want to be that kind of person. When did I become that kind of person? The other day, a woman came door-to-door asking for donations to a Clean Water initiative to help raise funds to prevent hydrofracking in the area. We tried to explain that we barely had two pennies to rub together between us, but I think she must hear that all the time, or at least enough to be only very politely disappointed. I got her information and went to their website after she'd gone to send them an email offering my time as a volunteer if they needed anything, since I have (just barely) more time than money available to donate these days. I haven't heard back from them. Part of me feels relieved.

This is not fun, or freeing. There are days when I just want to slip back into my lonely life, where at least there was quiet, and stillness, and in that kind of solitude even loneliness and grief could be beautiful. Now, half the time I feel like I'm just running around trying to keep up with the millions of demands — and sometimes, Jeff feels like a leaky bucket, so willing to always give and give to even the most unreasonable expectations, that I'm in a kind of quicksand watching the energy I invest in him slip away into half-finished projects and a million ideas that never get off the ground. And I read something today by Thalia Took, in her blog about her OCD father and the junk he made their home in, and how she had learned the "demand resistance" response to always say NO! first whenever anyone asked because she learned it from him, and from the unreasonable, unhealthy, unfair expectations he always put on her and her sister. I learned that from my mother. I had to learn to scream NO! at the top of my lungs in the face of insanity and cruelty, or I wouldn't have made it whole into adulthood. And I've spent a lot of time learning the art of yes! and the deep roots of generosity... but sometimes, I wonder if Jeff, whose mother is so supportive and accepting and Zen that she's barely there sometimes, never learned that no can be necessary. Intellectually, maybe, but not really. Sometimes I still don't know if his agreements with me are real or if he's just so good at being agreeable. And I can spar with him in debate and talk about different topics, because he'll play devil's advocate even for the devils, even for people he doesn't agree with. Which is why he's interesting, and why he challenges me. It's like being in love with everyone who ever disagreed with me. But.. sometimes, I think I need him to agree with me on important stuff, and say no! when it really matters.

This is something I'm going to have to talk to him about. And also probably having to do with my Saturn Return work, now that I think about it. It's no surprise that I have authority issues, but I think I've been successfully grappling with those issues for years now. So maybe this is the curve ball of a Saturn Return: when I ask myself the journaling questions Jeff wrote up for me, when I ask myself what restrictions and limitations I resent and that keep me from feeling free: my answer is not others' authority, it's others' childishness and neediness (and that's true for the kids themselves, too). Since I've chosen not to have kids of my own, I hadn't anticipated facing that particular yoga. If I'd had a choice in the matter, I would have stopped at a healthy, sustainable number (but that feels like wishing Josh and Fiona out of existence...). And now I'm almost laughing at myself and remembering the mini-crisis I had the other day when reading about Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged and realizing I couldn't just dismiss it as complete gibberish. There are some very harmful, sad little ideas in it (like how intelligent people are so very rare and special and they're never wrong about their wonderful little inventions and they never make mistakes) — but there are things like integrity, creativity, self-reliance, things that I really go for. And more than that, the feeling of fatigue and resentment that made Rand first muse, "What if all of us 'creative minds' went on strike?" I know that feeling! I get it, I really do. I think Rand was selfish and childish to write a fantasy world in which an elite class of "thinkers" could hold the world hostage... but I know the feeling, of being so tired and frustrated and wondering why anyone else isn't stepping up to the plate to take care of all this shit, why I feel like I always have to do everything. Except I'm not stupid. I know everyone feels that way much of the time these days. People talk about apathy and nihilism, but I really don't think that's what's wrong with this country. What's wrong is that everyone is so fucking tired. And we're tired because of the way we live in this country. And we can't seem to change the way we live because we're all too fucking tired.

Or maybe I'm just cranky and dealing with post-moon headaches and my "day off" today I spent mostly drafting an essay on "Pagan pacifism" which is going to end up far too long and unwieldy to be much good anywhere, and is probably going to take a huge amount of research and, damn it, writing is hard and I've gotten lazy. I like being able to just spout off ideology, I like "talking points." They're quick, ready-made. Writing takes so much out of me. On my "day off" I spent all morning working and got only three or four decent paragraphs out, with the rest of the article looming in front of me like a monster ready to guilt trip me and gobble up every spare minute of my free time. So instead, I write rambling, whiney diary posts. And do tarot card readings. (And rethink all those stupid reasons that I stopped writing poetry.)


Break.

So just as I was about to move on to my tarot reading, Jeff finished what he was working on and we sat down to have what turned out to be quite a long talk, mostly about all of this. I tried to talk to him about the drained feeling and the "demand resistance" story and how it related to my mother, and comparing it to his experiences. This led into a conversation about Saturn Return, and me expanding a bit on what I wrote above, on grappling with childishness and immaturity as kind of nontraditional conceptions of authority and restriction.

As we talked, several things began to fall into place that I want to just note here quickly. First: the idea of confronting childishness seems, the more I talk about it, like a very obvious aspect of my Saturn Return work. Reflecting on my meditation the other night in my ritual for Manannan, I mentioned to him about the many images that seemed to stem directly from kids' movies like "The Little Mermaid" and "Finding Nemo." I'd assumed at the time that this was just a kind of "bad connection" that was dredging up all my mental stereotypes of underwater scenes, but this issue of childishness puts that in a new light. It also relates back to my last "conversation" with Brigid during my personal Imbolc meditation, when she appeared to me as a playful young girl running in bare feet through the grass and counseling me to "lighten up" a bit. I was more receptive to that message, at that time, as being so obviously good and sage advice — but I'm not sure I've been all that good in following it. Instead, I've continued to fight against childishness (or perceived childishness) in others by increasing the pressure on myself to be responsible and adult about things, to buckle down to the discipline of being mature and reliable. If Saturn Return is going to be about confronting and integrating figures of authority in my life, and the "figures of authority" that I am struggling with are (or seem to me to be) characterized by childishness, neediness and immaturity... then it makes sense that I may have to do some work on nurturing and encouraging my own "inner child."

These are just thoughts. But having talked things over with Jeff, I'm already feeling more relaxed and optimistic about it. (Also, he made me a little teacup of chocolate sweet almond milk! Mmm, nutty!)

Diary Tarot Card:
<- Nine of Wands, Strength (VIII) -> Three of Cups

The Nine of Wands poises ever-vigilant, straining against the uncertainties of the coming future, toughened and hardened by past conflict. Perhaps too suspicious, too ready to perceive a threat, too on edge to relax and find respite — yet in the past, such vigilance has served well, cautioning against indulgence and lassitude and allowing the instinct to self-preservation enough reign to do its necessary work. The figure sits astride his lion, a hand resting retraining and reassuring on its curled horns and armored head. Still, when does vigilance turn to paranoia and pugnaciousness? When does strength become blinded by the urge to armor and arm ourselves against uncertainty and adversity?

Strength rests her hand lightly on the brow and jaw of the lion where she stands, a lion unencumbered by armor and yet seemingly more powerful, mightier and freer than his subdued counterpart in the Nine of Wands. She is the gentle guardian of strength, draped in white, vulnerable in her half-nakedness, who can open and close the lion's great muzzle with the lightest touch — the lion of the subconscious and animal soul, whose power is sleek and fierce. He is not subdued and reigned in, yet neither is he destructive and dangerous in his wildness; she listens to the dark rumblings in the lion's heavy throat, a purr or a warning, as she listens to the promptings of her own animal soul, knowing when to heed the sound and when not quiet its noise. With courage and gentleness, Strength does not need to fear her animal, and so does not need to subdue it either.

The Three of Cups dances in joyful celebration of community and togetherness, a moment of happiness and playful camaraderie. Though full of energy and enthusiasm, there is in this card none of the tension or fire of the previous two, but instead the active flow of exchange and communion, sharing the pleasure of laughter and good company. While each of the other cards face outwards, looking either into the past with wariness and hard-earned memory, or into the future with quiet will and receptive strength, the Three of Cups circles merrily around itself, caught up in the moment.

The overall message of these cards seems to be that through excessive vigilance and worry about the uncertainties and potential threats of the future (perhaps arising from past hurts), we turn our backs on our truer, more powerful inner strength — the Great Secret at the heart of this spread. By accepting that inner strength and appreciating its proper role, as gentle but courageous guardian of our animal souls, we open ourselves to opportunities for true connection and community — a cause for celebration and joy — for we can trust ourselves to playfulness and exchange without worry that such engagement will spin out of control and cause damage or harm.

Saturn Return: A Ritual for Manannan

A mostly impromptu ritual based loosely on the design I've been using with the Lady of the Stars group, very loosely, with improvised invocation and blessing. I asked for the presence of the god of the sea who came to me in dreams, asking to know him better, to explore our relationship.

In some ways, I felt this ritual was frustrating and dissatisfying. I was not able to get a clear "read" on this god of the sea (I think I have permission to call him Manannan for now, even if this isn't his true or only name), and the images during my meditation seemed murky and and uncertain. Perhaps this was because I had no formal invocation, but spent time simply asking for his presence in stumbling phrases. I'm not sure.

I sank into trance to the sense of my own breath and pulsing blood as the movement and sound of waves, ebb and flow, back and forth. It was almost as though I could feel my body swaying with the tides, as the waves lapped the shore of my body with every breath. I held the shell in my hand that had been a gift from the ocean when we were there in September. Cool and seemingly soft at first, it grew warm and hard in my hands as I breathe, feeling the push and pull within me, lulling me. Still, for a long time, I could not "see" anything the way I have when entering trances with Brigid Star Fire recently. Just the pulse and rhythm of the waves seemed to envelop me. After a time, it seemed to me that I was in a tiny wooden boat, rocking upon a huge, mighty ocean that stretched for miles in all directions so that I couldn't see the shore anywhere, only horizons of shimmering water on all sides. I sat for a while, feeling the tiny boat rocking beneath me, creaking, so small and fragile on that vast realm. I realized at one point that there were oars in the bottom of the boat, and I picked them up and made a few clumsy attempts to paddle, though I didn't know how and, in any case, did not know which way I should be moving.

An oar slipped out of my hand and, after floating for a moment, began to sink beneath the waves. Without thinking, I dove in after it, soon realizing that I, too, was now sinking and sinking, deeper and deeper, into the depths of the ocean. I felt the sensation of unthinkable depths stretching down below me into darkness, and the pressure of the water above me growing greater and greater as I sank. I remembered the experience of a vision from before, an encounter with the Lady of the Stars when she sent me plunging into the dark depths of the ocean, and like then, I tried to relax and allow my body to sink without fighting. I soon found that I was standing on the ocean's bottom in a midnight of water, no sun or starlight penetrating this deep. (All of this, though, came in only glimpses of trance that seemed murky and difficult to "hold onto.") Around me were bone-white coral reefs and silt kicked up by my walking. The enormous pressure of the ocean above me suddenly had me feeling flushed and overheated with exertion (even in the cool room of the study in my thin ritual dress). I bent down and saw, half buried in the sand of the ocean's floor, a shining object — when I bent down to pick it up, I discovered it was a perfectly circular, hand-held mirror. It reflected a silvery light that flashed and glinted. When I held it up to my eyes to peer into it, I caught a glimpse of my own face — I seemed to be made of blue fire, my hair drifting and dancing above me in dark blue-black curls and waves, my skin a deep, shimmering blue with hints and ripples of green — and as I looked in, I could sense somehow that the rest of me, too, looked this way, that I was clothed in the same shimmering, sheer-sparkling blue and green robes from the dream, and they swirled and turned about me in the currents of the water. Startled, I turned the mirror away from myself. It glimmered and caught light coming from somewhere.

Though I could not see the sun or moon coming through the waters, some light from above reflected in the mirror in one long beam of silvery light that shot up through the depths back towards the surface. As I turned the mirror, the beam of silvery light tilted and swerved, changed direction until I was holding the mirror before me, reflecting its beam as though it were a flashlight illuminating a path along the ocean floor. I began to follow where this beam of light led (as I walked, the pressure and heat seemed to ease, so that I again felt light and cool), and soon came across a deep underwater cave of tumbled, jumbled dark black rocks. I entered into the cave, and within it was a massive figure of a king, who reminded me more than a little of King Triton from the Disney movie, The Little Mermaid: friendly and old, white-haired and wise. I asked him if he was Manannan, the sea god who came to me in dreams. And the figure began to laugh, a great booming laugh that was more a thundering of the water than a sound itself, and it went on and on, a bass note pulsing through the ocean in all directions. After a moment, it started to seem almost mechanical, like the giant, frightening head in the Wizard of Oz. On an impulse, I lifted the silver moon-mirror again and, over my shoulder, caught sight of a smiling, mischievous younger face behind me. I swirled around in a quick turn, and there was the sea god I was more familiar with — a smaller, younger figure, not thin but healthy and muscular with not an ounce of fat on him, sleek but thick like a dolphin, hair waving with kelp and seaweed. The figure of the king behind me seemed now, quite obviously as though it'd always been, covered with lichen and coral and other bits of crumbling, eerie sea anemones, so that even the crown itself was some bits of coral and fronds. I felt as though I could scrape away the layers with my fingernail. I felt confused and unable to focus well. I held out the shell that I had been carrying, the gift I had received from the ocean, as though showing my ticket or invitation to a party, my explanation for being there. Manannan took the shell from me and blew into its narrow end as though it were an instrument, and sure enough, out of its bell-shaped, wider opened end there unfurled a bouquet of lavish underwater fronds and floral-looking plants blossoming in reds and purples. It was ridiculous and silly — yet, when he handed it back to me, it seemed utterly precious and the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

I could not ask him questions, I felt incapable of either articulating any or being able to hear or listen for any answers. I was not able to hold any image for long. Yet when I tried to ask Manannan if he would help me with my Saturn Return work, I got the sense that this king in the underwater cave was, in some ways, connected to that work and to my perception of authority — some laughing, mechanical fake or fraud, in some way, unresponsive, perhaps antiquated and crusted over, and certainly not what it seems. I also seemed to get the sense that this type of meditation was not going to work as well with Manannan as it has seemed to with Brigid — that my way to connect with and communicate with him was going to be much more visceral and embodied, less cerebral (and it wasn't until this that I realized just how "in the head" much of my connection with Brigid has been in my rituals, very visual and auditory). My relationship with Manannan, if there was going to be one, if I decided I wanted one, was going to be much more about experiencing the Divine within myself, the feelings and sensations that weave together my body and my emotions as sometimes strange, impenetrable mysteries. I got the strong sense — though not in words — that this work would be about energy and sensuality, about spending time in ritual simply sitting with the feeling of the ocean and its presence in my very blood and body and breath. As these impressions arose in me, I found it impossible to stay "in" the trance, but at the same time felt again that pulsing of my breath and blood and the rhythm and sound of the waves washing up the shore, as I had at the beginning. I spent some time simply sitting with and experiencing this sensation in my body, and as I did, I found my heartbeat increasing, growing excited, and a kind of sensual longing rising within me similar to what I had felt in my dream.

I am not at all sure this will help me with my Saturn Return work, or if this will be an appropriate relationship to pursue while also trying to cultivate my relationship with Brigid Star Fire. I felt, despite the experiential connection with the sea as I breathed in trance, that afterwards I had very few answers or indications about what I should or could be doing, what direction to go in.

I drew three cards in divination as part of the ritual: one for the shore (right), one for the horizon (left), and one for the deep (center). The cards I drew were:

Ace of Cups (h) <- Ten of Wands (d) Eight of Wands (s) ->

I am not sure what to make of this reading (and want to borrow Jeff's newest book on the tarot to explore some more intuitive ways of reading the cards, as well as perhaps begin to branch out into alternative forms of divination, like the ogham). It seems to me that the Eight of Wands on the shore represents the beginning of adventure, the activity and energy of a new endeavor (perhaps as a previous one comes to an end), casting chance to the winds to see where things might lead. Ace of Cups on the horizon seems to represent a kind of ideal, where water meets sky, and the gift and promise of the sea as that place of reflection and connection, source and renewal. The Ten of Wands is a card of pressure and responsibility, even one that could indicate taking on too much, more than you can handle, and facing the possibility of choosing to lay down some of those burdens (or realize that the world does not depend on you). Yet in the position of the deep, it seems to also indicate the sense of just how great a pressure there is upon the oceans, which truly are responsible for all life on the planet, and the burden that is held lightly, but seriously and loyally. That the majority of the cards in this drawing should be wands, a suit of fire, seems somehow out of sync and not what I would expect from a connection with Manannan. (But Manannan is also a magician and a trickster figure... perhaps the wand as magician's tool has a place here?)

All in all, the ritual leaves me feeling just as uncertain and confused as I was before, and feeling no closer to being able to handle the coming Saturn Return with any special help or insight. Still, maybe a commitment to regular "sensual" practice is exactly what I need to help balance out the over-analytical side of me and ground me in my emotions and intuitions. I'm just not sure....

Diary

Days of Note: First Quarter White Waking Moon

Sun: aquarius (air/fixed), 7:19am - 5:50pm
Moon: *first quarter, gemini (air/mutable)
Earth: just below freezing, with gentle winds and gentle sun, but still very much winter despite the first hinting stirrings of spring


Today, my second "day off" of the week, I woke up at 6:30 AM wide awake. Of course, it being still dark and Jeff being pretty much sound asleep, I didn't bother to actually get up. Still, I was full of energy and excitement about the day. Most likely because it was my "day off" and I was eager to get back to what I'd been working on my last "day off," Wedding Wednesday — which I spent, not on wedding stuff as I should have, but on taking the first steps towards designing and setting up my new website. I can become obsessive about these things. It's always been the case that a huge motivating factor for me is the appearance and packaging of a thing. That may sound shallow or superficial, but for me, part of the thrill of a beautiful piece of writing is the aesthetic pleasure of the physical book itself: the heft and weight of it, the scent of book binding glue, the neat, elegant formatting of the fonts, the cover art. And when it comes to online writing, this spills over into websites. A website can be — contrary to so much embarrassing evidence out there — elegant and beautiful and inviting, a worthy showcase of excellent work. I want my website to be like that. And so I thrill at the hours upon hours that I get to spend tweaking code and experimenting with color combinations and layout features.

When all's said and done, though, I want to be able to fill a website with awesome material. So as much as I was excited about having a day off today, I knew that I really couldn't go much further on the website design without facing the music and buckling down to some actual writing. And weirdly enough, I was dreading that. I had a restless frustration, like cabin-and/or-spring fever, that made me worry I wouldn't be able to settle down to do the creative work I wanted to do. I feel like it's been so long since I've done creative writing that really sang my soul-song. And of course, I've been feeling pressure (or, more kindly, leadings) from Brigid that I should be turning back to this work and cultivating it. Even my aspirant work with DOTR this lesson is focused on creative work and our relationship with awen, the Druid concept of inspiration, the fire-in-the-head breath of the gods. So every day I failed to write creatively, it became that much harder to have any confidence that I still had it in me.

This morning, I got in a few hours of work before lunch, and generally wasted time poking around online reading articles and blog feeds and Facebook updates that left me feeling befuddled and muddy headed. I knew I needed to give myself time and space in which to be creative, but that restlessness was keeping me from calming down. That, plus the monthly cravings for pastries and chocolate were at constant war with my commitment to the mostly-raw vegan diet Jeff and I are trying out, and the result was the weird sensation that I was... bored. Which is hard to explain. But boredom as an emotional state, and the tension of cravings for un-filling, bad-for-me food, were hardly distinguishable. So finally, in early afternoon, I decided to compromise: I had one piece of chocolate from the stash my mother sent me in a care package for Valentine's Day, and then I went downstairs and got one of my numerous How To Write Poetry workbooks (I know where they all are now, because Jeff and I have organized our bookshelves, hurrah!). I read through the introduction and the beginning of the first chapter before getting to the first exercise. Then I sat down, and I did it. I've already shared the results.

Or, at least, the product of the process. But there were other results, too. It took me hours to write that poem, hours of weighing and pushing and feeling my way through each line. Even now, I'm not sure if it's any good or not. But the process was so satisfying and restful, and something I had missed so much without even realizing it. It was work, in the best sense of the word. Not busywork to keep me churning and spinning my wheels, not time clocked or overly specific exercises leading step-by-step. It was just the work of digging and sensing and sitting quietly listening to the rhythm of each line, each word, and working my way slowly, gently, towards the poem's end. It was so satisfying, yet calming, that after dinner I felt as though I had plenty of energy and motivation, and I was eager to plunge back in. Jeff had a few hours of work left to do, since he took time out of the middle of the day to run errands before the kids come this weekend. So I buckled down to tackle some revision work I'd been meaning to do for a while.

The plan with the new website is to make it mostly a static site to showcase my writing and publications (and possibly photographs), with a blog feature incorporated to share news and smaller essays. I won't be exporting the old Meadowsweet blog into this new site, but instead I'm going ahead with my original plan to compile the best pieces from the old blog into a book to make available on Lulu (or, possibly, through a publisher, if Graeme's small publishing company will still have me). Once I began the process of selecting and compiling these pieces (which was months ago now), I realized that many of them I wanted to expand and revise, incorporating ideas that developed in the comment threads and just in general touching them up and making them more suitable for the print medium. Because I'm a perfectionist. But the task seemed so daunting, I never really got started on it.

Tonight, I sat down after dinner and began working on an expansion/revision of the first essay. It wasn't just enjoyable, it was downright fun! I felt like I was back to my old self again, revisiting the old me who was a diehard Poet-capital-P. For so long now it seems — though it can't be more than half a year at most — I've felt not so much like a writer as like.... a blogger. And I do mean that in the derogatory sense, no matter how unfair that might be. But "blogging" (as The Doctor uses it) is like chattering gossip and bickering banter about trivia and current events. I think it could be more than that, and I used to be pretty good at staying grounded in that vision of it being more than that, but my involvement with P+P has dragged me down in some ways, I think, and left me disoriented and feeling utterly drained of creative inspiration. It is so hard to take the risk of true creativity when you feel constantly under attack my insulting snipers and overly-critical know-it-alls. It's hard not to get sucked into that world, to become small. But reading back over old posts, and working on them again with this new burst of creative juices, I felt as though I were coming home to myself. I no longer had to berate myself for not doing the work I was supposed to be doing. Even if it takes a while, even if I'm not rushing off to score the instant gratification of immediate publication in a blog medium, I am doing the work, and allowing it to take however long it takes. I may end up with some material worthy of publication in magazines (though my luck there has been less than wonderful lately). Either way, I am doing the creative work I want to be doing and allowing myself to look beyond the borders of our sometimes self-involved little community of Pagans. This, I like.

So it's been a good day, and this diary entry probably reflects that. There is much to catch up on that has been going on in my life, but I'm not going to beat myself up over not doing a better job of chronicling it. That is busywork. This is creative work. I'm also not going to do the first part of the DOTR Aspirant Lesson 3 as it is written. I will not be doing daily note-taking on my plans and goals, nor doing the weird exercise of writing with one hand, then the other for a week. I suspect this last exercise is supposed to put you in touch with your more "artistic" brain, but I have far better ways of doing that on my own. Perhaps I will turn the journaling prompts into poetry-writing exercises instead and experiment with them in that way, but in general I'll be adapting the lesson to suit my needs. I'm hoping this is alright with Bob. Since he and I have known each other in one form or another for several years now, he did invite me to just join outright as a full Druid member, but I agreed to go through the lessons. In part because it's a good refresher, and in part because I wanted to understand the community sense that was developed through the lessons themselves, and in part because I hoped to be able to give Bob some feedback on the lessons themselves and ways they might be improved. We'll see how receptive he is to me blowing off the lesson plans for this month and exploring awen in my own way.



Daily Tarot Card: The King of Wands stands noble and proud, energetic and ready for action and activity. His blood flows bright and quick with passion, enthusiasm for his work, yet as the mature "yang" of the suit, he also understands the necessity of structure and order to reign his power in, harness it and shape it to his purposes. He is a figure defined by his energy and enthusiastic engagement with the world around him and the work he pursues in it. He may sometimes try to do everything at once, and for that reason to shy away from a sense of control or imposed order that might restrict him or rob him of the space his creativity needs to flourish. Yet this tension between passion and calm, creativity and order, are held delicately and deftly under his rule.

Daily Diary

Days of Note: Flamekeeping

Sun: aquarius (air/fixed), 7:36am - 5:29pm
Moon: last quarter, scorpio (water/fixed)
Earth: warm enough to rain, with temperatures above freezing, delicious fog in the morning and then wet and rainy all day

Thoughts: mostly my mind was occupied with work today, which doesn't leave much room for day-dreaming; thought a bit about propaganda, and how (as Jeff points out) if it were easy to spot, it wouldn't be as effective as it is, yet it still disturbs me how apparently blind some folks are; also thought about community and its purpose, and whether or not it's a waste of my time to try to engage in a community just out of a sense of obligation, even if it does not nurture my soul; also, thought about Brigid and the prayer to smoor the fire (to "smother" it at the end of a day to protect the coals overnight to be relit in the morning)

Actions: after breakfast, headed out to Phipps, spent some time walking the indoor gardens before buckling down to contractor work; lunch there at Phipps, then several more hours of work; dinner at home, watching some TV with Jeff; wrote a brief rant-post for the blog (by accident), then a few more hours of work; followed by some flamekeeping time composing prayers for Brigid

Connections: worn out, but feeling productive and got quite a good number of hours in for work, happily; frustrated about some online stuff, but I think I'm making progress in terms of integrating what I know intellectually to be true so that I can have the strength of heart and character to follow through with my intention to remove myself from unhealthy communities... we'll see

Daily Tarot Card: The Six of Wands is a card of victory and triumph, success that has come from decisive action and hard work, overcoming challenges and challengers who have thrown obstacles in our way. Now, we achieve a victory and receive due recognition for our success. Yet something still nags at us - as the number six is only an initial completion of a cycle and not the end of our journey, this card also represents an urge not to "rest on our laurels," but to continue to work, to remain ready and willing to take on new challenges, as they will almost surely arise. A caution against arrogance, we can enjoy our moment of glory without allowing it to turn to complacency and laziness.

Daily Diary

Sun: capricorn (earth/cardinal), 7:40am - 5:21pm
Moon: *full moon, cancer (water/cardinal)
Earth: slightly warmer today, in the low 40s, beginning sunny and leading into drizzle of rain this afternoon and evening

Thoughts: worn out this morning from a restless night (and Jeff snoring a bit); thoughts mostly on things to get done around the house and in general enjoying the freedom and not worrying too much about deadlines or pressure, especially when it comes to my writing

Actions: sluggish morning, after getting the contract for the wedding photographer in the mail, and spent a bit of time on the phone with my dad in the morning; spent much of the day on contractor work (which went well - some days it's easy to spend hours and hours on that work, whereas other days it just seems to drag painfully); went through Facebook and deleted a bunch of I-don't-actually-know-these-people "friends" to slim down the FB burden (already thankful for that decision); this evening, ran out to Lowes to finally get the filter for the heater in the basement and some window cling-film to help insulate the windows, hopefully; now relaxing, taking it easy

Connections: thoughts mostly on work related stuff and otherwise feeling very tired and drained (but in a happy-fuzzy fatigued way, which is nice for a change); recap from the past two days: Sunday was rough, very tired and a bit achey, did Savanah's lesson (write up on its way) and got some consultant work in, as well as extensive conversations on the phone with both Mom and Dad about wedding stuff and catching up on life; yesterday, Jeff and I took the "day off" to do cleaning and housework, made a trip out to IKEA to get those bookshelves that were a Christmas present from my parents, plus a corner shelf for the bedroom made possible by Dan's Christmas cash gift; so now yesterday and today, despite feeling very tired, also feeling very pleased with how the bedroom is looking and finally being able to set out some of my altar items and other décor pieces; last night, did a house-cleansing spell with Jeff that went simply and beautifully (using spring water, salt and rosemary, along with a "housewarming" candle we've had for more than a year, tucked away, that we got way back at Journeys); so definitely feeling the good, happy vibes there; now just hoping the filter for the heater can fix this weird smell we've been experiencing lately....

Daily Tarot Card: The Seven of Wands is a card of paradox and can be difficult to interpret. For the most part, this card symbolizes both the good and the bad that results from our actions: there is the thrill of challenge and the courage and strength to rise to those challenges and meet them with success, while at the same time, an acknowledgement that much of the strife and struggle we are encountering may have been stirred up by our own actions, choices and initiatives. This card depicts and mother fox defending her kits from an intruder: a noble and worthy cause that calls for the courage and strength to stand her ground for her beliefs and her love, yet were it not for these kits, offspring of her own (pro)creative drives and previous actions, she might have been able to avoid this confrontation altogether. A card that signifies the relationship between our actions and their effects on us: we may discover, as a result of our choices, that challenges await us and we must be on our guard and prepared for them - yet, these very challenges may help us develop our strengths and discover our courage, to build our character in response to adversity.

New Year Divination: 2011

I ask for guidance about the coming year, one card for each house. What can I expect during the year to come?

I lay down twelve cards, one for each of the astrological houses, beginning with the first house to the left and moving counter-clockwise around the central altar to the three realms.

The First House (Ascendant): The house of beginnings, our first reactions and immediate attitude to the external world around us; our personality, external characteristics, public persona and the first impressions we leave.

The Hierophant (V) — The priest and teacher of wisdom and ritual, the Hierophant represents our inner urge to seek meaning and craft meaningful, beautiful ways of living and moving in the world showing honor and without doing harm to others. He is a figure of tradition and ancient patterns rooted in the secrets of the earth and the ages. He brings the spiritual or religious urge into manifestation in the earthly realm through the careful cultivation and practice of ritual and rite, and through these he can reveal mysteries and great wisdom with patience and calm.

The Second House: The house of security, stability, property, wealth and income; our attitudes towards wealth and material possessions, and our financial fortunes and economic sense.

Ace of Wands — This card signifies a gift, the possibility of creativity, excitement and adventure, the first urge in a new direction which can be pursued with enthusiasm and energy. A card of beginnings, it may represent a threshold to be crossed, a new enterprise to undertake, or perhaps a challenge to be met with strength, intelligence and wit.

The Third House: The house of connection and communication through analytical and critical thinking, information exchange, news and publicity; practicality, trade and exchange, as well as brief contact and short, quick communications with others.

Three of Cups — This card signifies a time of celebration and joy in friendship and community with others. A moment to pause and appreciate the good work and good feeling that comes with initial success, to enjoy the moment with dance and song and other expressions of merriment and gratitude, while also knowing work still lies ahead as the process continues.

The Fourth House: The house of emotional comfort and inner security which provides a foundation, as well as our desire to care for and cherish others; thus, also tradition, family, ancestry and memories of our youth.

Nine of Wands — A card of vigilance and watchfulness, holding strength in reserve and holding true to that core of power and inner strength that we might not expect we have until we have been tested. This card urges us to be prepared and ever-ready, strong in our resolve to work through conflicts without losing our edge over time. But it also reminds us to keep an open mind and broad perspective, to rest secure in ourselves and not to go looking for conflict or to allow conflict to arise because we are too one-sided or belligerent.

The Fifth House: The house of pleasure, entertainment, play and love, as well as our creative impulses and our delight and inner satisfaction in our own productivity and activity; our desire to express ourselves and develop self-reliance.

The Hermit (IX) — The restlessness and yearning for solitude expresses itself in the Hermit, who follows his inner longing for deepening personal fulfillment, withdrawing from the sometimes harsh external world to seek the spiritual life within and the guidance and light it can give. The Hermit experiences the intensity of that calling to the inner life and embraces the depth and profundity of the greater whole. Though from the outside he may seem withdrawn, reserved or even passive, within he undertakes a journey of soul-longing to find his place in the greater whole and learn how to put this new understanding into practice.

The Sixth House: The house of everyday life, and the routine of work, diet, health and habit; our attitudes towards our work, its joys and frustrations, and our relationship with our physical bodies through the concrete daily tasks we engage in.

The Star (XVII) — The Star is a card of hope, renewal and peace. She dances, full of grace, gratitude and joy, among the shadows of the darkest night, welcoming the coming dawn with acceptance and appreciation as one who has released fear and discovered the inner guiding light that bestows self-confidence and poise. Within refreshing darkness, the Star cultivates the space to prepare and uplift the spirit, embracing all the potential we hold within and engaging creatively with what the future holds.

The Seventh House: The house of partnership and teamwork, our attitudes towards our partners, as well as our expectations and experiences of partnership; a need for harmony and balance, equilibrium and friendliness.

The Hanged Man (XII) — The Hanged Man signifies surrender and willing self-sacrifice, a well as emotional release and acceptance of the ups and downs, shadow and sun sides of life. The Hanged Man perseveres through difficulty and suffering not by resisting them or seeking to avoid them, but by resting in the secret, subtle knowledge within that he will survive, that his strength will endure and he will emerge from his experience wiser and more capable than before. This card is also one of shift and change, a reversal in perspective that may flip the world upside; the Hanged Man's center of gravity is not the mundane world of ordinary matters, but the deeper or "higher" gravity of the heavens, a spiritual sense that leads him to trust in and surrender to the greater patterns of the universe.

The Eighth House: The house of animal instinct, intuition and the unconscious, in particular how these express themselves in our attitudes and relationships; the urge to take risks and pursue creative tasks, as well as our fears and anxieties about our personal power and its expression.

Seven of Wands — This card has a paradoxical nature. On the one hand, it can represent the courage, faith and selflessness to take a stand to protect or fight for what we believe in and what's truly important; yet on the other hand, it may also indicate that our own actions and initiatives are the source or cause for the conflict we are experiencing. In both cases, this card encourages us to take heart and remember our strength, to be on our guard and tenacious in our striving, but also to be willing to adapt, to bend and sway with the changing winds.

The Ninth House: The house of expansive vision and ideals; a thirst for travel, as well as our attitudes towards higher education, philosophy, religion, spirituality and our sense of justice.

Eight of Cups — This card signifies the completion or resolution of an emotional situation, and a new resolution to go out seeking in new directions. It is a card that urges us to dive more deeply into the mysterious realms of our emotions and intuition, to follow our leading down into the depths and the dark where our vision may be softened and connections appear more fluid and smooth. The sharp lines and bright lights of the everyday mundane world might be left behind for a time, as we explore our emotional depths on a journey of personal discovery. Yet we may not be sure where this journey will lead us, or what we may encounter in the dark depths, and so insecurity or uncertainty may also be an aspect of this card's meaning.

The Tenth House: The house of demarcation, boundaries and social positions; our attitudes towards our place and function in the larger world and our desire to define our sense of self in relation to others.

Death (XIII) — This card signifies transition, change and transformation. A card of death and rebirth, it burns away the old patterns and ways of being, whether they are unhelpful, unhealthy or simply no longer serving their purpose. In their place, new ways of being and living emerge that open new possibilities and opportunities to us. If we cling to the old, we face stagnation and deadlock, and yet if we can embrace these changes we will discover ourselves renewed and transformed by the process. Still, death and change are not often easy, and each carries its own sorrows and griefs as well as amazing joys and ecstasies. So this card also encourages us to face the coming changes with courage and compassion, and a willingness to embrace our transformation and its difficulties as the purging forge fire that will ready us for a new life.

The Eleventh House: The house of friendship, camaraderie and equality; our urge to break down rigid boundaries and get to know others as equals on their own terms; our attitude towards friends and friendship and our desire to seek out like-minded others.

Page of Wands — This card represents childlike innocence and joy, especially the pleasure to be had in engaging with enthusiasm and energy in activities and new projects or initiatives. The Page of Wands is charismatic, witty and personable, forthright and outspoken and able to draw others to her with her excitement and youthful wonder and energy. This card is an urge to action, fresh and uncomplicated, especially activities engaged in for their own sake with no ulterior motives.

The Twelfth House: The house of deeper connection and union with life, expressed through or leading to mystic spirituality, artistic work, or social justice work; our oneness with life expressed by the unconscious in dreams, visions, symbols or sometimes the absorption of the personality into the collective, the masses.

Page of Cups — This card represents romanticism and a connection to the world of dreams, visions and fantasies. The Page of Cups, a romantic at heart, longs for the quiet, still space in which to simply breathe and enjoy the pleasures that surround her, to delve more deeply into her dreams and visions, and to listen more closely to the whisperings of her intuition and the inner wisdom of her unconscious. She is receptive and childlike, which may at times lead her into sentimentality, indulging in her emotions and dreams without acting on them, perhaps without even realizing that she can act on them. Yet there are unplumbed depths here, as well, held within the possibilities of the peace and tranquility of this card.

Daily Diary

Sun: capricorn (earth/cardinal), 7:43am - 5:02pm
Moon: waning crescent, scorpio (water/fixed)
Earth: the high was actually above freezing today, with steady sun and clear skies and not too much wind, all in all a pretty nice day

Thoughts: a bit of restlessness to start out the day, but things got better; brainstorming about wedding plans and wedding-related to do lists, as well as some of the deeper symbolic meanings of the wedding ceremony itself and reflecting on how our Paganism will (potentially) reflect in the wedding; otherwise, felt fairly focused today with few freak-outs, which is nice

Actions: this morning, spent some time working on "Wedding Wednesday" stuff in preparation for our trip to the Wedding Expo next week; got in touch with the officiant to set up a time to meet in person; figured out our schedule for the long weekend and worked with Jeff to book our hotel room (at a big discount due to a wedding expo special, and we were able to get a suite with kitchenette which means cooking in the room and saving lots of money on eating out - yay!); looked over the budget to get an idea of how we're doing (not bad, I think); in the afternoon, spent time writing a post for the wedding blog, which quickly eventually blossomed into more-than-one post (still not finished the second part, but almost there, hopefully to post tomorrow)

Connections: felt like I got a lot done today with very little distraction; feeling the best about the writing and kinda wish I could whittle down my responsibilities so that on any given day, after my contractor work, I could spend the rest of my time working on my writing; but to do that, I'll have to first finally get the apartment how I like it (only a few rooms to go) and stay more on top of this wedding planning stuff; all in all, though, I think things are going really well and I made it through the holiday stress without too much freaking out; now for recovery time, for which regular work is actually quite enjoyable; I find myself really looking forward to putting in some solid hours tomorrow and for the rest of the week so that, come next week, I can take a few days off in a row to enjoy the expo without worrying about my hours

Daily Tarot Card: After drawing a card I have had several times before, I decided to draw several more for clarification, and also as a transition into deeper insight into the cards and practice doing multi-card spreads.

The Ace of Cups I drew first, and placed in the center. This is a card of beginnings, a gladness and enjoyment that results from a happy emotional alignment or orientation and being more deeply connected to our emotions and intuition. It offers the gift of withdrawal into dream and imagination, where we can foster and nurture healthy connections and emotional bonds both with others and with our own deeper selves.

I cut the deck again, and drew the Five of Cups, which I placed in the center directly below the Ace of Cups. Recognizing once again that the Five of Cups is a card I've drawn before, I drew two more cards from the top of the deck (without cutting), placing the first to the left and the second to the right of the Five of Cups, so that the three made a line above which the Ace of Cups rested in the center. The card to the left was the Six of Swords, and the card to the right was the Five of Wands.

The Five of Cups is a card of sorrow, grief and loss. Dreams have been set loose and have passed beyond our control, and we are left to wait and wonder what will become of them, and of us. Our journey has been difficult and sometimes painful, with many mistakes and regrets along the way. We may have a tendency to focus overly much on these causes for grief, and feel the pain acutely, even reveling in its sensuality to some degree. But there is also hope, and a chance for change and movement - some of our cups have not yet overturned, and offer us the gift of healing and emotional renewal. What is required of us is a reorientation, a new perspective and a more stubborn optimism and gratitude about those resources still readily available to us, instead of wallowing in our grief and misery.

The Six of Swords represents a journey through difficulty and challenge, overcoming strife and uncertainty as we struggle towards a new horizon and the possibilities it promises. The journey itself may be a hard one for us, or it may be a time of rest and recovery from the strains of the world that have left us feeling weakened and drained. Either way, we travel into the uncertain future that promises hope and renewal. Still, the card holds a warning as well, cautioning us against carrying with us the same harmful or unhealthy thought patterns that have caused us difficulty and sorrow in the past.

The Five of Wands is a card of playful combativeness and conflict, of energy and activity in a blur of motion and barely contained chaos. Sometimes, this card can feel like swimming against the tide, a thousand small obstacles piling up to create an unending barrage of difficulties and challenges that threaten to overwhelm us. At the same time, these challenges can be invigorating, energizing and motivating us to rise to the occasion, overcome whatever challenges we face and, in the process, discover new skills and new sources of potential that we hadn't expected or anticipated. Though the card carries a caution against allowing trivial matters to pile up or escalate into serious or dangerous conflict, it is also a card of movement and change that can bring about success and renewal.

Visually, the layout of this spread raises some interesting insights. The four cards are spread in a kind of wide-based pyramid, with the Ace of Cups at the apex and the three cards (from left to right: Six of Swords, Five of Cups, Five of Wands) forming the base.

The two cards on either end of the base both contain figures dressed in white who are journeying towards the upper center of the spread, almost pointing at the Ace of Cups itself. The figure riding the swan's back in the Six of Swords moves from left to right, rising above the swords and stormcrows below him. The figure in the Five of Wands charges from right to left, leaping over the swarm of foxes and dodging the staffs placed in his way. Both of these bookend cards, in addition to having journeying figures in white, also contain long, upright tools or weapons (staffs or swords) as well as a flock or pack of animals (foxes or stormcrows) perched in and about them, which the figure must rise above. These may represent circumstances of difficulty that are stagnant or unchanging (or seem to be), planted firmly in the ground and appearing almost like bars on a jail cell or the poles of a fence or wall. The animals - dark in one card, bright and fiery in the other - may represent uncontrolled or wild animal instincts, emotional reactions or even thought patterns that have taken on "a life of their own" and no longer seem to be helpful but have instead become a hindrance or a symbol of the figures' difficulties and obstacles. In neither case, however, are these animals actively trying to hinder the figure in any personal way - simply their existence can be a challenge, but they are not out to get the figure in any way, and so the challenges they (re)present are things he can "rise above" (literally or figuratively).

Both figures seem to be moving, within the spread, through their difficulties and towards the center cards - but more specifically, upwards towards the Ace of Cups. The center card in the bottom row, the Five of Cups, is one of sorrow and regret, grief over what has been lost or the failures and difficulties one has seen. The figure is still, head bent down towards the overturned or half-emptied cups around her. She faces to the left, towards the Six of Swords card, with her back to the right and the Five of Wands, and head turned down so that she cannot possibly see the Ace of Cups above her. This layout suggests a focus on the difficulties of the journey that have brought her to this place, and perhaps too much focus on her own weakness and fatigue (as shown in the Six of Swords), while ignoring the stamina, energy and resourcefulness (represented by the Five of Wands) that have brought her this far. Most importantly, she does not raise her head to look around her and see what opportunities and gifts are still available to her and, in fact, continually being offered. The ocean seems to carry all her dreams and hopes away from her as she stands on the desolate shore, and yet she does not recognize the source of this vast ocean and its potential to offer support, insight and emotional depth to her as well.

Yet this spread suggests that, once grief and sorrow are acknowledged and moved through, the journey of the two outer cards will continue, leading eventually and at last to the Ace of Cups, a place of generosity and renewal especially of an emotional (and intuitive or imaginative) kind. The figures do not face the center, but a more dynamic direction "upwards," with their eyes firmly fixed on the Ace of Cups as the goal. The journey may involve grief and regret to some extent, but keeping things in perspective and moving through this emotionally "troubled water" with the same willingness and energy will resolve eventually in obtaining to the gift that the Ace of Cups offers: renewal, reflection, self-knowledge and deeper connection. Here, the animals in this card (a school of fish) swirl and dance around the spiraling, overflowing waters of the cup, presenting glittering symbols of beauty and good luck, instead of the strife and conflict of the animals in the other cards (or the absence of animals as primary actors in the center Five of Cups card).

All this says to me that I am in the midst of a journey, a period of transition that may be difficult and sometimes a bit of a struggle. I can choose to focus on that struggle and how tired and vulnerable it can sometimes make me feel, or I can value the energy and creativity that I can bring to the journey, and keep my eyes firmly on the many reasons to remain grateful and optimistic about my circumstances. If I do the latter, I may find that the gift for such gratitude and optimism, and the blessing of perspective, will eventually lead to a period of renewal and deeper insight and creativity, as well as more authentic connection and harmonious emotional relationship. (Let's hope that's right!)

DOTR Lesson 2: Entering the Order as an Aspirant

Tonight during the Druid Order of the Three Realm Mother Grove's winter solstice ritual, I was officially welcomed into the Order as an aspirant working through the Nine Lessons with the intention of becoming a full Druid member after a year's time of study. Though the ritual took place down in Georgia where the Mother Grove is located, my mentor asked me to spend some time in silent Awen meditation between 7:30 and 8:00 pm, to connect with the ritual in my own way.

I also took this opportunity to complete the final section of Lesson Two, the "mini" three realms working. Reaching up to touch sky and down to touch earth, I brought them together through the flow of the sea to create a sacred space in which I infused my intention with energy and enchantment, naming my formal dedication to the work of the aspirant.

Before this, however, I spent some time acknowledging my gods, and in particular Brigid, by pouring some libations and reciting the Druid Prayer for Peace. After some time in meditation, I allowed myself to slip further into trance (though this was a little difficult because Jeff's voice drifted up from downstairs where he sat reading to the children before bed). Deeper in trance, I seemed to stand as part of a circle of shadowed, half-seen figures gathered around a central flame. It seemed to me these figures moved and turned with the gestures of solemn rite, and murmured prayers of awen and welcome. I could not see them well, but it seemed to me that this was the Druid Order of the Three Realms gathered together, some in body and some only in spirit, working together the rituals of the turning year. I asked that I may enter more fully into the Order as an aspirant member, and for a moment the figures seemed to come into sharper focus and full color, before the trance slipped too quickly away and I was spun back into ordinary consciousness. The experience was too fleeting to be sure of anything, but still, it had the feeling of a confirmation and welcoming to become a member of the group.

Following this brief meditation, as the end of the ritual was drawing near, I drew a divination reading using my tarot deck. Using a three-card spread, I asked three questions:

(a) What gift do I have to share with the Order?

(b)What gift does the Order offer to me?

(c) What sign will be my guide and help me along this path?

(a) Queen of Wands: A figure of poise and grace within skillful activity and commitment, the Queen of Wands brings dedication and enthusiasm to her work, as well as a self-confidence grounded in experience and sincerity. She can be an energizing presence for those around her as she follows her natural penchant for energetic involvement in the activities she finds engaging. This card suggests that it is my self-disciplined dedication and steady involvement in the Order that may be my most valuable gift, especially if it comes through the skills and talents that I am most passionate about and have worked hard to cultivate (for instance, my writing and poetry). My energy and enthusiasm for the work may engage others, stimulating them into renewed activity and engagement with the work as well.

(b) Four of Pentacles: This card is often interpreted as one of stagnation and immovability, especially when it comes to securing financial or material wealth. There is a suggestion with this card that things have become too stiff and unchanging, and that we may be clinging to "the way things are" in order to protect our material gains at the expense of openness, receptivity and generosity with others. The spirit of growth and exploration may be missing, as we lock down on our possessions and create a trap or cage of our own making with our covetous spirit. It is not exactly a card you might expect in a reading about gifts. This may mean two things. The first is that, perhaps, the Order itself is perhaps, even if only to a small extent, "locked in" to a particular way of doing things and has grown protective of this structure and approach to the detriment of new growth and experimentation. It may be that the gift the Order has to offer me is in the confrontation with this attitude, in which I may learn to navigate and negotiate with it to both my own benefit and the benefit of the Order itself. The second possibility is that this card is meant to present both stability and protectiveness, especially when it comes to community. The number four represents the stabilization and concretization of the active patterns of three into matter and form, and the pentacles especially is a card of earth, the material world and its manifestation. Thus, this card may indicate that what the Order offers me is a place of stability and structure that is protected by those who have cultivated it and feel deeply invested in it personally. It may offer a "concrete" real community that is close-knit and which gathers regularly to practice together in the physical world, something that is not necessarily true for the groups I've been involved with until now. I am not sure which of these interpretations will prove to be the correct one, or if there will be a mixture of the two that will provide both gift and challenge.

(c) Queen of Pentacles: Grounded in the strength and stability of the earth and the mighty oak tree, this Queen is one of creative energy and harmony that stretches out in all directions, connecting all creatures and beings of the world. Cheerful, though also often humble (from humus, "of the earth") and inwardly turned, she takes great pleasure and enjoyment in the beauties of the world, and shares these joys with others in ways that encourage involvement and growth. She provides a warm embrace for others that encourages them to be themselves, though in ways that express maturity and consideration for the greater world that we share with one another. This card seems to suggest to me that my "guiding sign" as I work through the Nine Lessons towards becoming a full member of DOTR will be a more open, mature, creative and joy-filled engagement with the physical world and the community I am now entering. Together with the Four of Pentacles, it suggests that perhaps this sign is meant to point the way, not necessarily indicate where I can expect to start out, and that there may be a journey ahead of me to move from the more possessiveness and stagnation of the Four of Pentacles, to the receptivity and creativity of the Queen of Pentacles. Because this card also appeared in my full moon ritual dedicated to Brigid of the Star Fire, and because the figure in this deck is depicted in a way that reminds me so much of Brigid, I also understand this card to mean that I should continue my devotions to Brigid and the Lady of the Stars group as an important part of my DOTR aspirant work.

Having completed my divination reading, I then performed the "mini" Three Realms Working found at the end of Lesson Two, setting my intention to commitment to this work and follow the path towards becoming a full member of the Order in a year.

Some time this week or next, hopefully, I will have time to go for a walk in the woods to gather a stone for the final rite of Lesson Two and then move on to Lesson Three. Because of solstice, Christmas, family obligations and travel, and I am not sure how easy this will be. However, I'm hoping that perhaps while I am in Lancaster, I might be able to gather a stone from the local landscape where I was born, to connect to the energies of my family and my ancestors.