Savanah's Year: Nwyfre of Earth, Calas and Gwyar of Water

I thought my neglect of keeping notes on our lessons with Savanah was bad back in January, and it's been months since I last updated about our progress! Granted, partly that's because we haven't been able to have regular lessons with her for some of these weeks because of scheduling, work conferences, kids' recitals and so on. But for the past two weeks (last Sunday and today) we've been able to get back into it.

Our final week of Gwyar of Earth work, we focused on the seasonal cycle of the year and the relationship between the sun and the earth in creating the seasons. We spent quite a bit of time talking about the difference between the Fire Festivals and the Solar Festivals and how they embody different ways of relating to the sun, as well as comparing these holy days to the Wiccan sabbats and exploring the differences and similarities. We talked about the cycle of the seasons as a metaphor for birth, growth, maturity, death and rebirth both in the human life cycle and also in how we approach our goals and dreams, taking time to plan and prepare for each stage and doing work that reflects the needs and energies of that stage. For her journal, we asked her to label a diagram of the wheel of the year with the different holidays and write a little blurb about each of them. We also had her pick out two more objects for her altar: one representing the sun itself, and one representing the current season. (To be honest, it was so long ago that I can't remember which objects she chose. I do remember being very impressed by the intuitive nature of the object she chose for the sun, but can't for the life of me remember what it was.) For that week's activity, we asked her to do a creative project to symbolize the wheel of the year and the cycle of the seasons. She used a new Christmas gift to make a woven bracelet with different colored beads representing the four seasons.

During February, we moved on to Nwyfre of Earth and introduced Savanah to the basic practices of breath meditation, centering and grounding. We began by learning about the physical breath and how it connects us to the world around us in the most intimate and immediate way. We began to connect the idea of the physical breath with the sense of life-force and spirit expressed through the elemental principle of nwyfre, and discussed how the way we breathe (fast or slow, heavy or shallow, etc.) can give us insight into how we are feeling, and help us to calm down and feel better when we're feeling upset. We asked her to journal answers to some simple questions about the relationship between breath and self-awareness (the directed questions that provide a review of our conversations during the lesson are turning out to work really well), and for her activity we taught her the simple breath meditation of bringing focus to the physical sensations of your own breathing (as a first step towards more complex practices). The following week, we moved on to the practice of centering. We discussed the idea of our "spiritual center" as similar to your "center of balance" and talked about different techniques to use to help find your center, that "still place of peace" between breaths. Her activity for the week was to practice the centering meditation and answer some questions in her journal about what the practice was like, how it helped her or what made it seem difficult, etc. The following week, we moved on to grounding, with a brief meditation I wrote using a stone from her altar (as well as some Awen chanting — I feel a bit bad because we didn't take much time to actually talk about Awen itself, since she was already familiar with it from participating in Druid rituals in the past). We discussed how grounding provides us with a connection to both the realm of the gods and the "underworld" realm below us, like a try reaching our limbs into the sky seeking sunlight as well as reaching our roots down into the earth to find stability and nourishment. We talked about the idea of energy exchange, and how grounding can help us release anxiety or anger that is hindering or hurting us, as well as draw energy and support from the earth when we are feeling weak or tired. The grounding exercise was her activity for the week, with some more questions for journaling about the experience and how she felt about it.

Throughout March and April, for the most part we took a break from lessons. The stellium in Aries meant both Jeff and I were kind of going nuts with energy, and work and other commitments dominated our time so that weekends left us pretty wiped. We did have a chance towards the beginning to get into the next month of work, Calas of Water, which was dedicated to learning about communication, connection and emotion in different practices and beliefs of Druidry, specifically through the forms and structures of storytelling, mythology, poetry and music. The first week, we talked about ancient myths and fairytales and how they were used to pass on important ideas and information about the people and the land. We talked a little bit about how stories don't just give us information, but actually give us insight into a whole perspective or worldview. To demonstrate this, we asked Savanah for her weekly activity to choose a myth or fairytale she knew and rewrite it from the point of view of one of the minor characters. The next week, we didn't have time for a full lesson, but we did go over her work — her story was excellent, a retelling of the story about the boy who has to face a giant (I forget the name of it) told from the point of view of the bird he caught. Very creatively done!

Last week, we finally got back on track and combined the last two weeks of Calas of Water work to talk about poetry and music together. This worked out well and tied back into the work on mythology that we'd done previously (so it provided a good refresher) — we told the story of Amergin and the Milesians coming to Ireland and winning the land from the Tuatha de, and read her a (translated) version of the Song of Amergin where he sings to the land to praise and honor her. This provided an excellent example of the blurred lines between myth, poetry and music, and we talked about using "concrete sensory details" in power to give our language power and to evoke feelings and ideas without explaining them in the abstract. We then played her the song, "I Am," by the group Beltaine's Fire, which is a song both praising poetry and rhyme as tools for learning and memory, and also drawing on and re-imagines the Song of Amergin, providing another connection. I spent a lot of time talking about how the vibration of music in our bodies — especially when we sing together or dance to and play music — connects us in a very physical, literal way, making our bodies vibrate in harmony. (This idea seemed to impress Savanah quite a bit, because she asked me if I had memorized my "speech" or just knew it off the top of my head!)

This week we moved ahead into Gwyar of Water and our exploration of dreams, divination and visualization meditations as ways that we can communicate and connect with our subconscious mind, the gods, ancestors and spirits of the land. We'd asked Savanah to keep a dream journal for the past week, so we spent some time going over the dreams she remembered and what they might mean, how they made her feel, etc. We talked about dream interpretation more generally and how the subconscious mind often uses symbols, images and emotions to communicate indirectly, instead of spelling everything out for us logically and rationally. We talked a bit about how dreaming helps us to integrate our waking experiences more deeply into who we are (like water churned up by activity slowly settling and becoming clear again during a period of rest), and that's why we might have dreams about activities that are either new to us or dominated the time we were awake on a particular day.

We also discussed divination techniques and how they worked, using very similar images and symbolic associations as dreams do. (This was originally going to be week two for this month's lessons, but we won't be seeing them next weekend and we're still trying to play catch up, so in order to give her enough work to do during that extra week we decided to introduce the idea of divination now and continue to expand on it when we see her again). Savanah is still struggling to believe that she is capable of doing the work we ask her to do, and will panic (or exaggerate her anxiety) whenever we suggest something that might be a challenge — to overcome this during this lesson, I asked her to try to think of five different divination techniques that she knew of just from reading books and seeing movies and talking to people. Sure enough, she was quickly and easily able to list off five: tarot, runes, palm reading, tea leaves and crystal balls. We talked about how each of these techniques worked, what you did, and why that approach was able to put you in touch with your nonrational/subconscious mind (or the gods — I think when we return to this subject, we'll focus more on how the gods come into it). We also talked about the larger categories that these specific divination techniques fell into and what other types would be included (for instance, looking for shapes in clouds, entrails or even ugly wallpaper is similar to tea leaf reading; gazing into water or a black mirror or even a thumb nail is similar to using a crystal ball, ogham is similar to using runes, etc.).

For her activities for the next two weeks, we've made recordings of the centering/grounding exercise from the Nwyfre of Earth lessons for her to listen to, so that she can practice these meditation techniques each morning. Jeff also gave her a longer relaxation/visualization guided meditation to do next week before she goes to bed in the evening, to get her used to the technique of visualizing before we move on to the third week of this month's lesson. In addition, we've asked her to do three tarot readings using her tarot deck (asking whatever questions she wants and coming up with her interpretations of the cards before looking in the book for their "official" meanings). And lastly, we've asked her to keep on recording her dreams in her journal as well, and to answer a few journaling questions next week on any kinds of patterns that she notices about her dreams.

So the work is going well, really. Every time I go back over the general outline, I'm excited by how much cool stuff we're going to cover over the coming months. I also worry a little bit that it won't all sink in (for instance, discussions we have months ago about using grounding to help siphon off nervous energy are obviously not helping Savanah very much in controlling her panic at times!)… and I wonder if we're trying to do too much too fast. But I think in general it's important to give an overview so that she has some sense of how it all fits together and can go back and explore more in-depth on her own if she chooses to. Since it really is all connected and intertwined, any little bit that "sticks" can eventually lead her back to the rest… and since Jeff and I are pretty well-versed and deep in our practice, there are some lessons that we manage to impart over and over, themes that keep reappearing no matter what specific topic we're talking about. I think those themes are also influenced by Savanah's particular needs — for instance, listening continues to be a lesson we come back to again and again, noting how important it is to listen in order to connect, learn, show respect, calm ourselves and find our centers, and listen to the messages of our own bodies, emotions and minds. I don't think that Jerilynn, for instance, will need as much reminding about the importance of listening as her sister, who is incredibly talkative and active while Jerilynn tends to be quiet and inquisitive. But we may face other challenges with Jerilynn that we didn't with Savanah… it's hard to guess almost two years in advance. I really am looking forward to continuing this work with all the kids, and eventually working this material into a book (or two or three?) at some later point. And it's very good to spend this time one-on-one with Savanah — it's made a big difference in how both Jeff and I relate to her, and her readiness to confide in and connect with us. For that alone, I think it's definitely worth it.

A note on the structure of the course itself… I think overall, it's working well. Now that I'm investigating astrology more and exploring the overlap between the three Druidic elements and the cardinal, fixed and mutable aspects of the four elements in the zodiac… I'm wondering if it might be interesting to experiment with a year-long study similar to the kind TDN has set up with their Perennial Course in Living Druidry. Setting things up so that, for instance, the lessons of Nwyfre of Earth correspond with the cardinal earth zodiac sign of Capricorn (Dec. 21 - Jan. 21) and Gwyar of Water correspond with the mutable water sign of Pisces (Feb. 21 - March 21). It might be interesting to play with the order in this way… though the order and structure I have it set up in right now feels very natural, building on what came before. Mixing things up might make it more difficult… but, on the other hand, it would also "personalize" the year-long study course according to each person's birthday, which might be particularly good for young people. It might force me to simplify the lessons as well, in the same way TDN's course lessons are fairly simple but still profound. I'll explore this possibility as I learn more about astrology and keep it in mind, at least.

Astrology of Me: Natal Chart Analysis (Part 1)

Days of Note: Full White Lady Moon

Sun: taurus (fixed earth); 6:02am - 8:31pm
Moon: *full moon, sagittarius (mutable fire)
Earth: another gray, drizzly, chilly day with steady rain for hours on end, finally clearing just before sunset this evening with layers of cloud (and a tiny bit of clear blue breaking through) transforming the sky into a tapestry of blues and grays

Based on Stephen Arroyo's Outline of Chart Interpretation

I. The Chart as a Whole

§A.1 Preponderance & Deficiencies Shown by Planets' Positions • By Sign Placement
a) Elements

• Fire - Venus in Leo; Jupiter conjunct Uranus, and Neptune in Sagittarius
• Earth - none
• Air - Sun conjunct Mars, and Mercury in Gemini; AC conjunct Saturn and Pluto, and Moon in Libra
• Water - none

b) Quadruplicity

• Cardinal - AC conjunct Saturn and Pluto, and Moon in Libra
• Fixed - Venus in Leo
• Mutable - Sun conjunct Mars, and Mercury in Gemini; Jupiter conjunct Uranus, and Neptune in Sagittarius

§A.2 Preponderance & Deficiencies Shown by Planets' Positions • By House Placement
a) Types

• Angular - AC conjunct Saturn and Pluto in 1st; Venus in 10th
• Succedent - Jupiter conjunct Uranus in 2nd; Mercury and Mars in 8th
• Cadent - Neptune in 3rd (2nd?); Sun in 9th (8th?); Moon in 12

b) Elements

• Fire - AC conjunct Saturn and Pluto in 1st; Sun in 9th (8th?)
• Earth - Jupiter conjunct Uranus in 2nd; Venus in 10th
• Air - Neptune in 3rd (2nd?)
• Water - Mercury and Mars in 8th; Moon in 12th

§B Overall Pattern of the Chart

An emphasis on Gemini (mutable air) and Sagittarius (mutable fire), with a Sun-Mars conjunction opposite Neptune and a Jupiter-Uranus conjunction opposite Mercury. Both Mercury and Jupiter fall within the signs they rule (Gemini and Sagittarius, respectively), further emphasizing the Gemini-Sagittarius opposition. Sagittarius as a fire sign is associated with cosmic or universal radiant energy expressed as passion, enthusiasm and honesty, while Gemini as an air sign expresses this cosmic energy as life-energy and is concerned primarily with the realm of archetypes or ideas, the patterns "behind" the physical world. Both signs have a mutable quality, correlated to change, flux and flexibility (and can be conceived as spiral energy patterns, according to Arroyo). Sue Tompkins, in her text Aspects in Astrology, describes the Gemini-Sagittarius opposition as being a tension between the archetypal student (Gemini) eager for knowledge and the wise teacher (Sagittarius) as the keeper of that knowledge. (She also compares this pair to the Fool and Judgement (or Justice?) tarot cards, respectively, expressing a tension between a youthful and inquisitive innocence and a concern for wisdom, morality and justice.) This reflects Arroyo's understanding somewhat, as he describes Sagittarius as a sign of aspiration and drive towards ideals, while Gemini is a sign of perception, immediacy and connection (especially expressed verbally).

This suggests to me that one of the dominant patterns in my chart is this tension between, on the one hand, the sharp, perceptive mind of Gemini that leaps at the underlying patterns and connections expressed in the immediate world here-and-now (and especially wants to communicate these perceived connections) and, on the other hand, the more expansive vision of Sagittarius that can conceive of yet-unrealized ideals and pursue them with relentless, even restless passion and enthusiasm. In other words, a tension between the short view and the long view, a tension between fascination with the here-now and a passion for the future-that-could-be. At first, I don't see much in the way of conflict here, so much as complimentary passions…. But the role of Uranus (and Neptune to a lesser extent) complicates the picture. Uranus is in perfectly exact opposition with Mercury (the most exact aspect in the chart), while Neptune's opposition to the Sun is the second-most exact hard aspect (within a degree) in the chart. This brings an element of radical freedom and even chaos (Uranus) as well as a degree of self-deception or glamorization (Neptune) to the opposition. (This deserves some detailed expansion and exploration — so more of that later.)

Besides the Mutable Opposition dominating the chart, the second most obvious pattern is probably the Air Trine between Gemini and Libra (involving, for the most part, the Sun and Mars in Gemini, with Saturn and Pluto conjunct the Ascendent in Libra), along with the Moon also in Libra. Gemini and Libra also seem aligned roughly with the 8th and 12th houses, respectively, both houses ruled by water. I'm not sure what exactly this suggests and need to look into it further, but at least there seems to be an emphasis on a fairly comfortable relationship with learning and communication which may also involve an easy, flowing connection with emotion or feelings. Saturn's placement might complicate this trine somewhat, bringing a certain amount of tension or resistance to it… but again, something I want to look at more deeply later on.

Astrology of Me: Natal Charts

Spent the afternoon working on drawing up my natal chart by hand. Not intending to do this every time, certainly, but I thought it would be a good practice to do at least a few times early on to give me some insight into the signs, houses, elements and such.

Diagraming the aspects turned out to be the most difficult, in part because of dull colored pencils (and in part just my own awkwardness and stupidity). So the aspects shown are only approximate. Which is fine, because I intend to go back and do more charts focusing on particular planets and their aspects.

Here is the computer-generated natal chart available from astro.com:

Diary - Dream & Manannan

Sun: taurus (fixed earth), 6:03am - 8:30pm
Moon: *full moon, scorpio (fixed water)
Earth: gray, drizzly, rainy and cool all day

I woke up this morning (around 5 AM) from a very intense dream once again involving a sea god or man deeply connected with the sea, who I'm almost sure is Manannan.

This dream started out as similar to a dream I had a few weeks ago focused on anxiety about the upcoming wedding. In this dream, like the first wedding dream, I was stressed out about the wedding happening "too soon" and thus our wedding guests not taking it seriously — but "too soon" in the dream meant not our set wedding date in September, but right now, this instant. In the dream, I was not engaged to Jeff but to some other man. I don't think I ever saw him in the dream, but I had an impression of him being shorter and stockier than Jeff, darker in hair and complexion and rather rough and harsh. I was set to marry him "in May" (in other words, within the next few weeks), and I was somewhere resembling something like a beach house with my parents and a number of other people, some of whom were my family members and some not.

While there, I met a man and fell passionately in love with him, in the kind of deep-longing-to-be-together-but-never-really-consummating kind of way. The magnetism or connection between us was palpable, as it was in my previous dream about being mistaken for a priestess of the sea god. I felt like my heart was breaking open, but not exactly in sadness. We spent time together on the beach, and during the course of our conversations it became clear that if I tried to enter into some kind of friendship or relationship with him — even if it could not be a romantic one — this would fundamentally change my relationship with my fiancé. I wanted desperately to delay the wedding until the appropriate time (in September) so that I could spend the next months exploring my connection with this man of the sea, and I knew that if I did that, then the man I eventually married would be changed — I would not marry the dark, short, stocky man that I might marry "in May," but would instead end up marrying Jeff as I actually know him — but this was not because the person I was marrying would literally change and I would marry someone else… it was as though the darker man would somehow transform into Jeff through my relationship with the sea god.

This was all very confusing, but I knew that I wanted to explore the relationship with the mysterious man that I felt such a connection to. Still, I couldn't bring myself to let my family know or tell anyone, so I just tried to think of reasons to delay the wedding. I would meet him covertly, among other friends, as though he just happened to be a mutual acquaintance. Once, when out swimming in the ocean, he caught up to me in the deep waters where we could be alone. He said he had a gift for me, then dove down into the depths, not resurfacing for a long time. When he did finally resurface, he was pulling up from beneath the waters a huge ship, its wood creaking and spilling water from it. Friends from shore saw the boat and came out to see, so that soon everyone was clambering on board to explore (while I still stayed treading water next to him in the ocean). On one part of the deck of the ship was a hole in the boards which was covered over and seemed almost to be surrounded by dirt mounded up with bits of grass growing around it. It looked very much like a well of some kind, like you might find on land. Someone asked about it, and the sea-god-man warned them not to open it — they thought it was just a hatch down below deck, but he said (or made me to understand, at least) that it wasn't. Actually, it was a well, a kind of portal that dropped straight down into the depths of the ocean/underworld. He made me to understand that I could stay and live with him on the ship out on the ocean, but even there, I couldn't always be with him. Everyone once in a while, he would have to open the cover of the well and drop down into the very depths, where I could not follow him, and we would be parted. The notion of being parted from him was painful, but in a way that seemed like a noble sacrifice that was well worth it.

Soon after understanding the purpose of the well on the ship, I woke up.

So a great deal to mull over and contemplate in this latest dream (including the question of why I seem to be able to connect with Manannan so much better in dreams than during my ritual times with hi — or, I guess, why he chooses to show up at one time instead of another).

Part of what fed into this dream, I think, was my emotional state last night, spurred on by (yes, I'm a nerd) finally watching the Doctor Who specials from the year between the end of the fourth season and the beginning of the fifth with the 11th Doctor (that obnoxious actor guy who isn't David Tennant). David Tennant as the Doctor saw me through some pretty brutal, lonely times during those years of solitude and poverty — as well as the first few months of my budding romance with Jeff when we finally met in person for the first time (we spent several nights curled up on the futon watching Doctor Who, and then lapsing into make-out sessions while the TARDIS churned on the DVD menu screen ;). For the two or so years since then, I couldn't bring myself to watch the final episodes of Season Four (when the Doctor definitively loses both Rose and Donna, his best friend) for a second time… until just a few weeks ago when Jeff and I decided to go ahead and do it because we were going to start watching them over again with a friend of ours during a weekly "Night of Doctor Who" get together. Just last night, we watched the Special when the 10th Doctor dies. I cried like a baby. Like, we're talking sobs.

Several hours later, when we were settling into bed, I started crying again in a kind of odd mixture of sobs and laughter…. I can't describe exactly why I was crying, but it wasn't just about some silly TV show. I was remembering who I was during those years of deep, wrenching loneliness, and in some ways, I felt like I was mourning that Alison who had to live through those years. I rarely think about that time of my life these days, and my life now seems full of lots of little stresses and anxieties… and yet, now I am so amazingly happy and grateful that it's almost like I can't really allow myself to fully feel that joy, or I'd just be wandering around like a grinning idiot all the time. So there was this weird, sublime tension between my deep grief for that Alison of memory who is, in some ways, always going to be there, in that past, alone and weeping… and at the same time realizing how utterly ridiculous I was for not opening more fully to the joy of my present life. The only way I coped with those years of heartache was to embrace that loneliness and learn to grieve openly and cleanly, so that grieving became a process of healing and an affirmation of life. Now, I have so much to be grateful and joyful about… and yet I'm busy pushing myself, always striving, and beating myself up for not accomplishing more, not moving my career forward as quickly as I want to, not being as good a stepmom as I want to be, etc. All these stresses that, really, aren't that big a deal. Last night, it was as if I was again that sorrowing Alison of memory, only now I was looking forward at my life today… and laughing at how silly I can be, never cutting myself any slack or letting myself enjoy a rest. The whole metaphor of "regeneration" in the Doctor Who series, and this idea that the new Doctor is not really the same even if he has all the same memories… that's kind of what I felt like. Except, I don't want to forget the sadness and grief and loneliness of who I was before. I want to honor the lessons that sorrow and solitude taught me, and be more present to the very real joy in my life right now.

So before going to bed, I had resolved to develop some meditative/ritual practice to help me cultivate my joy and offer it as a gift, as I once did with my loneliness, to my gods and to Spirit and the Song of the World. I didn't know exactly what kind of practice this would be, but I wanted to pursue it. So it's not that much of a surprise to me that this kind of intense emotional turmoil and catharsis last night brought on dreams once again of Manannan. He always seems connected, for me, to that liminal state between sorrow and joy, grief and gratitude. The longing to be with him — and the wrenching awareness that I can't ever be, not really, not permanently — is a theme in so many relationships in my life (and one reason I think I found the Doctor so resonant and moving as a character). That I'm in a good, happy, stable relationship now doesn't really change that. In some ways, Manannan is reminding me, I think, that even with those we love, there are dark places we cannot touch and depths to which we cannot follow, and that as close as I feel to Jeff, I cannot take our relationship for granted. If I do, then the person I am marrying won't really be Jeff, but some shallower version of him more prone to my projections, more of a stranger than the man I love. But if I work to cultivate my joy and my gratitude and my love, especially in the depths where all becomes liminal and the autumn mists rise, then in the coming months my relationship with Jeff will deepen and blossom even more, and our marriage will truly be one of souls in love. I remember in the dream, understanding that it was important to wait until September, and spend time with this Man of the Sea, so that when the time came for me to marry, my marriage would blessed by the cool mists of autumn.

~

Ellen on the LotS SIG asked what I do during a "Seakeeping" shift with Manannan, so I thought I would share my response to her here.

Honestly, at this point, my practice with Manannan is still in its infancy, taking many stumbling baby-steps. My basic pattern for ritual work is the same I use for Brigid during my Cauldron Cill Flamekeeping shift. I begin my shift at sundown of the appropriate day, opening with a small, simple ritual of welcome.

For Brigid, I have prayers that I use to more fully invite her presence into my life and to charge/consecrate anew the flame pendant that I wear during my Flamekeeping shift. I light a physical candle during this ritual, even if I'll only be able to keep an LED one "burning" during the shift itself, and I pass the pendant above the flames while chanting, "Fire and Water in the Earth of my body, I keep your Sacred Flame." I don't really have a similar thing to do for Manannan, though I've been thinking for a while of finding either a shell pendant to wear, or a ring made of shell (like those hokey ones you can get at beach tourist gift shops). Instead of lighting a candle, I have a blue pitcher that I fill with water which I'll hold between my hands to charge, then pouring libation into my offering bowl (and taking a sip to honor the Spirit/god within). I do have a large whelk shell that was a gift from the sea when I was down at the beach last fall that I also bless. Afterwards, for both Flamekeeping and Seakeeping, I spend some time in meditation and prayer, maybe doing some trance work if I have the stamina for it, and usually concluding the ritual with a divination. During the next 24ish hours, I keep/carry/wear the symbol of my shift with me (and for Brigid, keep either a real or LED flame burning) as a reminder and object of focus for my shift. The next night at sundown, I do a closing ritual where I thank the god/dess for the gifts they've brought into my life, and basically do a kind of "unwinding" (for Brigid, this kind of takes the form of a metaphorical "smooring the fire" for safekeeping until my next shift).

This works very well for Brigid… but I'm finding that for Manannan, it's not jiving as well. For one thing, the metaphor of the flame or fire as something that requires tending (and then can be "smoored") means that the activity of the Flamekeeping shift is actually, well, active, even if only in a metaphorical sense. I feel like I'm actually doing something during my Flamekeeping shift, and usually my creativity feels a bit heightened. During my Seakeeping shifts, though, I've more often felt at a loss for what I was supposed to be doing… There was kind of a sense of the ocean not really being something that needs tending or "keeping," and lighting a candle just feels more active then filling a bowl with water (which will slowly evaporate over the next month, whether I pay attention to it or not). I think this may be one area where I need to rethink the Seakeeping shift and how I approach it. I'm exploring the idea of incorporating some ritual practice that's more about opening myself up to receptivity and relaxing into the presence of Manannan, and not so much about the active engagement and honoring that I do with Brigid during my Flamekeeping… if that makes sense. Some kind of ritual bath would probably be good in this case, but not always possible depending on where I am and what my schedule is.

Like I mentioned already, what I'd really like is to be able to develop some unique rituals for each of the Flamekeeping and Seakeeping shifts, particular to the energies of those deities, but then have one or two practices that I do during both that kind of connect or help to integrate them in some way. (I'm thinking, for instance, of the "Running the Iron/Pearl Pentagrams" in Feri, though I know very little about that other than their names, or the Turning the Three Cauldrons meditation that I've heard about here and there.) So that's where I'm at right now. Trying to find some kind of ritual that is simple enough and practical enough that I can actually commit to doing it regularly… but is also effective and ritually/symbolically meaningful and fitting…. So, lots to think about and experiment with.

Lady of Star Fire, Son of the Sea

A post to the Lady of the Stars SIG on TC, that I thought would be relevant to my "seakeeping" shift today.

So this is something I've been mulling over for quite a while, since a ways back when I had that intense dream about a "sea god" and began to explore and expand my relationship with Manannan. My work with Brigid seemed to be put "on hold" for a period, and she's only recently started to reassert herself. Now I'm working to try to integrate and understand how these two deities might somehow work together or relate to one another in a shared practice.

I think there are several of you in the LotS SIG who also work with Manannan as well as Brigid. A lot of our responses in the "Who is the Lady?" thread evoke some pretty significant connections between fire and water, and I'm feeling a similar push/pull from Manannan, though from a bit of a different perspective.

The Lady of Star Fire seems to me very much like a spark in the darkness. Sometimes, her "spark" is what feels emphasized, her fire and light, her warmth and activity and creativity and passion (and these feel very much like Brigid's more traditional "solar" aspect to me). Other times, it is her "dark" aspect that seems to come to the fore, the primal, primordial nature, the black seas of the universe stretching between the stars.

Manannan feels equally paradoxical in nature. If the Lady is the fire-in-the-water, Manannan sometimes feels to me like the water-in-the-fire… The overwhelming energy of intense emotion, the inspiration of the past, the palpable tingling of mist against skin, the lightning in the storm...

[snipped for relevance]

Diary

Days of Note: Seakeeping, Moon Conjunct Saturn

Sun: taurus (fixed earth), 6:05am - 8:28pm
Moon: waxing gibbous, libra (cardinal air)
Earth: gray and rainy, milk temperatures, the garden is just beginning to green with the sprouts of onions, carrots, lettuce and peas (and weeds weeds weeds)

Wave and water,
mist and storm,
I seek Manannan.

That was the invocation I used last night during my meditation to begin my "seakeeping" shift. I am still experimenting with this idea of keeping a shift (staggered with my Flamekeeping shift for Brigid with the TC Cill) in honor of Manannan as a way to connect more deeply with him. One thing I've noticed — and which probably should've been obvious to me from the start — is that I'm finding that a candle is not the most appropriate ritual object to use in this respect. For Brigid, it works well (the blue bowl with the floating golden candle, and the white pillar in the orange-and-red hurricane glass holder both work exceptionally well). For Manannan, I got a large pillar candle of rippling shades of blue (and that smells, supposedly, like the ocean)… but for obvious reasons, it's not serving as a very strong connection to him. I also included on my working altar my blue pitcher full of water, the photograph of an ocean wave in the blue glass and silver wire frame, and the blue-green whelk shell that washed up at my feet on the beach down in North Carolina when we were there last September. I also had my usual incense blend burning.

I admit, I'm not a big ritual tools person. I like having a fairly simple, basic set-up for ritual that I can just rely on each time. Thinking up clever, complex ritual symbolism for each ritual wears me out, especially for fairly simple rituals that I do on a daily or at least fairly regular basis. I tend to be a minimalist in this regard. So having a basic set-up of candle, incense, water and bit of earth is how I usually approach the issue, exchanging out certain objects for others where appropriate. So for instance, I exchange my Brigid candle for my Manannan candle, and the green and purple fluorite sphere for the whelk shell. Incense is the same — just some generic, all-purpose frankincense — and either the blue pitched of water, or the blue bowl full of glitter. Maybe this is lazy of me. When I was in my old apartment, it was easier to do more complex, purpose-specific altar spaces that incorporated various objects. Now, between the cat and the kids, I find it very hard to set up any kind of altar space with any permanence that won't get knocked or handled or treated (by kid and cat alike) as a plaything. It's easier to keep supplies stored away and bring them out whenever I want to do ritual.

But for Manannan's seakeeping shift, I'm finding this approach is just not working well. What I would ideally like to have is some kind of small fountain of running water or at the very least a libation bowl of some kind. During last night's ritual, I held the whelk shell in my hands, attempting to connect with its watery origins. This has worked in the past, but last night fell flat. The shell felt very much a hard, clunky object, not the fluidly crystalline "gateway" it's been before. And all of this might also be due to my lack of disciplined meditation recently, or a whole host of other issues I've been dealing with. I'd like to see if I could arrange a bath this evening — but when the kids are over, they dominate the entire house and its energy shifts decidedly in their restless, noisy direction. I'm not sure deep ritual of any kind is likely while they're around, unless I go out into the woods or somewhere equally solitary.

Do I sound cranky? (Is it because they've been in and out of the house, slamming the door each time, for the last twenty minutes or so?) This weekend is also supposed to be dedicated to some Saturn Return work, with the moon conjunct Saturn at the moment. In general, I'm feeling a bit cranky and distracted. Sinking into meditation feels impossible — like trying to fall asleep despite intermittent noise. That's the thing about intermittent distractions. Constant noise or movement can become part of the background — but distraction that is only intermittent dominates the subconscious, which remains on constant alert for when the next disruption will be. This is why folks who live too close to wind farms say it's a nightmare to try to sleep at night. Not just because the changing atmospheric conditions at night can amplify the noise of the windmills (which it does), but also because the noise is not constant white noise, but comes and goes with the breeze. Some small part of their mind remains in a mode of continued vigilance, in subconscious anticipation of the next unpleasant experience. And as a result, it feels impossible to concentrate — part of the mind's resources are permanently dedicated to that subconscious process. That's often how it feels here on weekends. I never know what to anticipate from the kids, and with four of them, it's almost guaranteed that one of them is going to need something every few minutes. Fiona can be the worst — she'll come to me instead of Jeff thinking that I'll be more lenient or give her permission that her father denied (or, more often these days, try to punish the other kids for not doing what she wants). Just now, in fact, she came in to tell me that Savanah was doing stuff she didn't like, specifically, she was off exploring the garden instead of playing with Fiona.

~

Excellent example. Jeff returned home with Jerilynn, one thing led to another, and it's now three hours or so later, after lunch, that I'm finally able to get back to this (now that the kids are downstairs with Jeff playing Settlers of Catan).

In any case, the day is warm and muggy, and even the walls inside feel somewhat damp to the touch. I'm feeling a little better having eaten, though not fantastic all the same. I'm going to just go ahead and post this because my train of thought was lost. I'd wanted to write a bit more about various projects Jeff and I are working on, but that can wait. Perhaps this evening or tomorrow I'll have another chance to write, as well as do a bit of divination with the cards.

My Druid Path, Revisited

Days of Note: Seakeeping Shift (begins at sundown)

Sun: taurus (earth/fixed), 6:06am - 8:27pm
Moon: waxing gibbous, libra (air/cardinal)
Earth: warm, muggy and sunny much of the day (after thunderstorms last night), with now more storms blowing in

Note: I wanted to post this yesterday, but Blogger was down for more than twenty hours (and my previous post is, at the time of this writing, still missing... though staff say all lost posts should be restored soon.

There's a new Druidry SIG over on TC, and one of the introductory threads asks "What kind of Druidic path do you walk?" I thought I would post my reply here, for posterity, since it reflects my current perspective on my spiritual path. Since the nature of a path is that your perspective of it will keep changing as you move along it, it's nice to revisit that question every once in a while.

I have always been drawn primarily to Revival Druidry traditions, especially because when I first began exploring Druidry I still considered myself a Catholic and (maybe more importantly) an academic. Studying comparative world religions in college, I couldn't quite get behind the notion of Celtic Reconstructionism, as I was fairly well aware of just how little we have to go on in some respects from an academic perspective — and at the same time, I was drawn to some of the early 18th and 19th century spiritual movements that sought to bring East and West together (like Theosophy, for instance). The kind of wild-Celtic(ish)-pastoralism and ambivalence towards the industrial revolution that many of the Romantic poets embodied in their work also had a great deal of influence on me, so it's probably not much of a surprise that Revival Druidry (which has its roots in the British fraternities, social clubs and workers unions of the 18th and 19th centuries) struck a chord with me. There was also, like I mentioned, the issue of acceptance and my desire to explore Druidry while still a Christian - the two Revival Druidry Orders that I belong to (AODA and OBOD) both state outright that they accept Druids from all religious backgrounds and see Druidry more as a philosophy or way of life than a "religion" per se. (Since then, I've come to question that acceptance a bit, both because these organizations have not always lived up to their reputations of inclusion in my experience, and because to some extent I think it may be a bit of a feint to try to distinguish "religion" from "way of life" in the long run...)

Anyway! The first Order I joined was AODA (Ancient Order of Druids in America) - I chose them because they seemed to have the most flexibility and acceptance of the American-based groups I knew of, and a really well-developed study program. I considered joining ADF, but at the time I was still Catholic and resolutely monotheistic/panentheistic… and although that's changed, I still find I don't quite jive with the theological approach that ADF takes. Still, there are a lot of things I do admire about ADF — their emphasis on excellence and scholarship, their democratic organizational structure, and the friendliness and outreach that the local ADF grove here in Pittsburgh does so well. I'm really glad to see a lot of ADF folks here in this SIG — I'm hoping to learn more about that organization from people already involved in it.

I joined OBOD a bit later... but honestly, I found their Bardic course to be on the far side of simplistic (and WAY overpriced!). Later when I found out that OBOD is a for-profit company set up to help Philip Carr-Gomm and his friends market their books and CDs... that kind of soured me on them. (I was also put off a bit by their rather bitter, unsupportive reaction to The Druid Network's gaining charity status last year.) I think they probably offer some great workshops and festivals over in the UK, but over here in the U.S., I feel like they don't offer much. So while I'm still officially a member, I'm definitely nonactive. So it goes...

Most recently, I got involved just last year with an "offshoot" Order that began as a grove of AODA and then broke away over some differences of emphasis. They're called the "Druid Order of the Three Realms," and they incorporate a lot of what appeals to me about Revival Druidry along with an emphasis on nonhierarchical structure and particular attention played to the Three Realms of Land, Sea and Sky. It seems like a happy medium between the CR approach and the Revival approach, and so far I've really enjoyed my work with them. My partner and I were both invited to join the Order and we're working our way through their Aspirant Program. I'm enjoying the review that it's providing me! Every time I return to some of the simplest concepts in Druidry, I find that my understanding of them deepens.

So that's where I'm at. As a (soon-to-be) stepmom of four kids being raised in the Druid tradition, one aspect of Druidry that I'm really interested in is the kind of "interDruish" community made up of solitaries and folks from many different Orders and traditions. My oldest stepdaughter already knows more about Druidry than I learned my first year working with AODA... which leaves me wondering what the place of aspirant/candidate work will be for people raised in these traditions. That's another reason why ADF really fascinates me — because my impression is that they really have in place a Dedicant Program that's relevant not just for neophytes and converts, but for anyone seeking to explore Druidry in-depth. I'd like to see some of the Revival Druidry Orders learn from this and start thinking about the place of future generations....

DOTR Lesson 4: Air

Sun: taurus (earth/fixed), 6:07am - 8:26pm
Moon: waxing gibbous, virgo (earth/mutable)
Earth: gorgeous and sunny, bright morning, with an afternoon getting up near 80º with thundershowers

I've done a pretty poor job of keeping up with this diary over the past month or so, but that doesn't mean I haven't continued my spiritual work, as well as work more specifically pertaining to DOTR. Sometimes it's difficult to remember to journal here, just because so much of my work seems to tie back in to my spiritual life and path in one way or another, though perhaps not always in clearly definable ways. In any case, I just finished some meditation on Air (for Lesson 3), and I wanted to spend some time noting a few important bits. But (as to be expected, I suppose), I'm feeling a bit "air headed" and scatter brained at the moment, so don't expect too much coherence.

First, a reflection on Air as an element. On Monday morning, I sat outside and did a simple ritual of meditation and connection with the element of Air (though, thanks to the brilliant weather we've been having, I also made passing acquaintance with Fire in the form of sunlight and, subsequently, sunburn). I haven't been keeping up with my meditation as much as I would like, and there have been plenty of things to distract me (more on that later), so I wasn't able to sink deeply into trance or anything like that. But rather than force it, I simply allowed myself to spend time with the element as it expressed itself in my immediate landscape. I felt the breeze on my skin, listened to it play through the wind chimes in the backyard, and watched as it moved the spiraling incense smoke this way and that, turning first away from me, then surrounding me, then lifting up to disappear into the air above me.

Sitting inside this morning to do meditation, I again watched the incense and not for the first time marveled at how solid the forms of smoke seemed, how they kept their shape (though that shape was definitely mutable and spiraling and every-changing) and I could watch one bend or curl of smoke as it wafted on its own unique journey through the barely moving currents of air in the room until it slowly faded — not so much dissipating as simply disappearing, fading away.

This brings my mind back to the relationship between the four classical elements (earth, air, fire and water) and the three Druidic elements of nwyfre, gwyar and calas. In JMG's Druidry Handbook, I always found the explanation rather dissatisfying. It seems to me that these three v. four are distinct systems of understanding the world, with their own implications, and if that's true then one should be able to bring them to bear on one another. Instead, in the Handbook, the four seem simply an extension of the three — so that the implication is the three are somehow incomplete — and nwyfre seems to morph and change not in any essential way, but more as a matter of convenience, taking on whatever extra role seems necessary. Really, the three Druidic elements as JMG presents them seem like a hobbled version of the four classical elements, less like a three-legged stool than a four-legged chair you've taken a saw to. In our teaching work with Savanah, Jeff and I have tried to develop both an understanding of the three elements as complete in themselves, and an understanding of how the four elements can be understood in relation to the three. Anyone who talks to a twelve year old probably knows that you need to know your shit and have your explanations clear if you want to escape endless scrutiny. It took a while to explain why gwyar was different from water, for instance, and calas not quite the same as earth, and so on. But it's been helpful work, and has forced me to articulate some things in my own approach.

The approach I use now is that the three Druidic elements can be understood as guiding principles or aspects of the world. I understand them, most simply, as form, flow and force (for calas, gwyar and nwyfre). Thus, calas is the principle of form, manifestation, boundaries, limits, distinction and individuality. Gwyar is the principle of flow, exchange, movement, communication, connection and freedom. And nwyfre is the principle of force, energy, initiative, desire (and repulsion), drive and life-force in the kind of spiritual sense. Each of these describes aspects that can be found in absolutely everything in the physical (and nonphysical) world.

How do these relate to the four classical elements of earth, air, fire and water? Here I borrow an understanding from astrology (and as I study more, the more I see how much insight this approach has to offer!). The three Druidic elements can be likened to the three qualities in astrology known as cardinal (corresponding in my understanding with nwyfre), mutable (with gwyar) and fixed (with calas) — for each of the twelve zodiac, a sign is a combination of one of these three aspects with one of the four classical elements. Thus, you have Taurus as fixed earth while Virgo is mutable earth, Leo is fixed fire while Aries is cardinal fire, and so on. The three combined in this way with the four create twelve, each with its own particular expression. Taking a cue from astrology then, I see the three Druidic elements as principles or aspects, and I see the four classical elements as qualities or "building blocks," so to speak. Each of the four classical elements has a quality to it that can be expressed by any of the three principles. Thus earth is dark, cool, dry and heavy; air is bright, light, hot and moist; fire is bright, light, hot and dry, water is dark, cool, moist and heavy. These combination of qualities mean each element has particular associations as well — times, places, objects, tools and other symbols that best exemplify or embody the quality particular to that element. (So, for instance, the seasons: spring as warm and moist, summer as hot and dry, fall as cool and moist, winter as cold and dry.)

But the key here is that each of the elements can be expressed through any of the principles represented by the three Druidic elements. Thus, we can have fire as a quality expressed in calas - that principle of a physical fire which gives it shape and definition in our experiential engagement, which imbues it with a kind of perceivable form, that gives it an edge and a boundary. Fire expressed in gwyar is the process of combustion and consumption, the transformation of fuel into flame through a reaction and exchange. Or, another example, earth in calas is, most simply, the material world itself, all around us, which we experience as a realm of form and manifestation, full of distinct entities with limits, boundaries that bump up against one another. Earth expressed by the principle of nwyfre, on the other hand, is the urge in Spirit itself to manifest through form and limit. It is the spark, the initiative, the force of life that gives rise to form, that seeks to consolidate itself into particular organized entities. It is the energy of nwyfre expressed through the quality of darkness and opacity and heaviness.

These are just preliminary thoughts, and I have work to do to tease out the details and how each combination really works. Some qualities (four elements) seem to have particular affinity with certain principles (three elements). (For instance, the element of water is deeply related to the element or principle of gwyar.) So one thing I want to do during this time of revisiting the four elements through the DOTR work is to explore how each of the four elements is expressed or exemplified or affected by the three Druidic elements as principles of being. I'm hoping my divination work will help with this as well. Not only do I plan to keep studying astrology during this time, but I'm also looking into Erynn Rowan Laurie's book on the ogham, in which she talks about using three full sets (of 20) for three "currents" — chthonic, oceanic and celestial — corresponding to the three realms. My understanding of the three Druidic elements of calas, gwyar and nwyfre is that they also correspond to the three realms… though exactly how they correspond is something I'm still working out, and some of it will depend on my deeper research into this approach to ogham.

In particular, on that note, I find myself wavering between associating calas or gwyar with the chthonic/earthy realm. My two patron deities, Brigid Star Fire and Manannan, seem to dwell in tension with each other, with Brigid very much a deity of sky and the celestial, while Manannan is not only a deity of the ocean, but of the depths and the darkness, so that he also seems connected to the "underground" (as well as the mists that rise from the earth to obscure our way, and the rain that pours from the sky and soaks into the earth, seeking its depths). This is another issue that I have with the DOTR Three Realms practice itself. Maybe because of my aesthetic sense of my need for balance (or because I am overly analytical about these things) — I find myself wanting to reach down to connect with "water" (or more specifically, with gwyar) below instead of with "earthy" aspects associated with calas and the land. For me, the blue, deep, dark, heavy, moist, watery qualities below can then be brought into relationship with the yellow, high, bright, light, dry, fiery celestial energies of nwyfre above…. mixing and mingling and expressing themselves in the green aspects of calas and the land, the realm of form and manifestation.

The tree then, a mighty presence of the land, is a symbol of that bridge and that relationship — reaching its branches and leaves up into the sky for sunlight and air, and reaching its roots deep into the earth in search of water and nutrients…. at both these extremes, you have fluidity, exchange, change and a kind of blurring of boundaries, a liminality where Tree merges with that which is seeks. And then, having received the gifts of the heights and the depths, the fire and the water, these extremes, opposites, are integrated and brought into relationship in such a way that you have the "middle earth," the land we walk upon as a meeting place of these other realms, the realm of unique manifestation and expression, individuality and boundaries. The individual can be lost in the mysteries of the depths just as in the celestial mysteries — there is a dark mysticism as well as a bright mysticism. But the "real world" of sensual, sensory experience, where we know ourselves as distinct entities for the most part (only sometimes sinking into depths or rising to heights where we forget our "selves" completely in union with something greater)… that's the realm of calas, of the land, and the Tree. It seems to me that a daily spiritual practice works best (in my experience, anyway) when it teaches us how to bring the more liminal, fluid mysteries of the depths and the heights and integrate them and express them in the everyday world around us. In Kabbalism, as I understand it, there's the idea of climbing up the tree to reach those heights, and then bringing that energy back down "the lightning strike zigzagging through the ten sefirot. But in this idea, the tree not only reaches up towards the celestial, but down as well, into the depth and darkness of the "underworld," and that energy and experience is brought into relationship from both directions into a center. (Plus, blue + yellow = green, duh!)

Is this "underworld" of watery depths and darkness most appropriately called "chthonic"? I'm not sure — I haven't ever used that term much. Perhaps "oceanic" makes more sense, especially since we tend to think (even if just metaphorically) of the lands kind of "floating" on the oceans (and understanding the underground lakes and rivers, the moistness of caves, and even the liquid molten rock below the earth's crust, it makes a kind of literal sense as well). If that's the case, then, does chthonic fit well with the idea of the Tree as bridge between celestial and oceanic, and the land as a kind of "middle ground" where these two Mysteries are brought into manifestation? I can't answer that, because I don't know enough about what the word "chthonic" is supposed to imply (though my first instinct is to answer no, it doesn't quite fit). Still, the relationship between "fire" and "water" (not as elements, now, but as symbols or representatives of the realms, I guess) is something that seems to rest at the core of my Celtic spirituality…. So it's worth exploring. Perhaps I'll tidy this up a bit and post it to the DOTR group blog for some feedback.

This became a long, rambling exploration in a rather more abstract way than I'd originally intended. This was all sparked by my observation during meditation of the way the incense smoke hung together, spiraling around itself — or, the other day, cast shadows on my arms and chest as I sat in the sunlight — bringing to mind again that this smoke, and the air currents themselves, are still very much expressing themselves in calas. The air currents, though they seem invisible to the human eye, are just as distinct, real things as fire or earth (or water and its slightly less invisible currents). To the birds who fly through the air, or the dogs and other animals navigating by scent, the currents of air are palpable presences, distinct bodies with their own boundaries. A story David Abram tells in his book, Becoming Animal, illustrates this point nicely — he describes one time watching ducks flying into a hard wind, dipping here and there, testing to find the edges of the strongest current of air and where there were slips and gaps in the wall of wind coming at them that they could push their way through. For the ducks, the air was as solid and bounded a thing as the landscapes of hills and valleys, forests and fields that we walk through, looking for our own slips and gaps to help us make our way. So air has expression in calas, in the realm of form and manifestation. The invisible, the unseen still has an active presence in and engagement with the manifest world. And as I watched the incense smoke, I understand that the element of Air, too, has its limits and boundaries.

I did want to talk a little bit about some other work I've been doing, but it seems that most of the morning has passed while I've been writing this (and I haven't even done a tarot card reading!). So I'll wrap things up here and maybe come back to it later. I am going to try to be more diligent in writing down these various reflections and experiences. I swear!

Divination Exchange: Next Six Weeks

Sun: taurus (earth/fixed), 6:12am - 8:21pm
Moon: waxing crescent, cancer (water/cardinal)
Earth: chilly and even somewhat blustering, with rain on and off all day, the morning starting out bright sunny and beautiful, giving way to steady rain and then gray chill

Jeff and I decided to do an experiment tonight — a divination exchange in which we each did a reading for each other. The question we focused on was, "What advice do you have for [us] between now (Beltaine) and the Summer Solstice?"

Interestingly, we both ended up with readings with an energy flow moving from left to right (we use Robert Place's method of interpretation), making the three card spread pretty close to your typical past-present-future layout. Both of our readings seem to have to do with new projects of some kind, with caution not to burn out or push too hard, though the specifics were different for each of us. There's also some strong themes about the relationship between love and death in the left-most card, corresponding to some of the more mystic/ecstatic themes of Beltaine I was writing about recently.

Below is the reading Jeff did for me, followed by the reading I did for him. He used Robert Place's Buddha Tarot deck, while I used my usual Shadowscape Tarot. I stuck with just the simple three-card spread, while Jeff felt moved to pull a fourth "clarification" card for his reading. (He also wanted to spend some time in meditation on the cards, but was feeling really tired and so didn't get much out of it as a result).

Advice for Ali

(reading by Jeff)

Future Empress | Ace of Jewels | Six of Jewels
The Middle Path

Future Empress - This is the Buddha's wife. Before he became the Buddha, Siddhartha Gautama lived with his father, the king; and his father wished him to marry. He asked for women to come from all over the kingdom to visit Siddhartha if they wished to be his princess. He provided Siddhartha with gifts, so that the young prince could welcome them. Siddhartha welcomed them all graciously (and there were a great many), but when the last one arrived — Yasodhara — there were no gifts left. Siddhartha found himself completely captivated by her; and so he took his own royal ring from his finger and gave it to her to welcome her. They fell deeply in love, and were married.

Siddhartha's father was sure that the love of the beautiful Yasodhara would keep Siddhartha's mind occupied with the doings of this world, so that he would fulfil the prophesy by becoming a mighty emperor. But Siddhartha's love for Yasodhara (and the son she bore him) was so deep that it went far beyond earthly pleasures. Shortly after his son was born, they threw a great party, and there was dancing and drinking. Late at night, Siddhartha woke and saw all the dancers, and his wife and child, lying asleep in the moonlight. To him they seemed as if dead. This served to harden his resolve to free them all from death and suffering; so — out of love — he left them there and went away to find out how to release everyone forever.

This card corresponds to the Empress in the standard Tarot. It is a card of fertility, beauty, love, and the attractive power of desire. Associated strongly with Venus.

Ace of Jewels - Ace of Jewels corresponds to the Ace of Pentacles. New projects, especially in the physical world. The Jewel is associated at one level with satifying physical desire, but at a deeper level with satisfaction through release of desire. The Buddha presented "Three Jewels" to comfort his followers as they followed away: the Buddha himself (as an example of enlightenment), the Dharma (his teaching), and the Sangha (the monk community of fellowship).

Six of Jewels - Six of Jewels is the Six of Pentacles. In this deck it especially represents generosity and the rewards of those who are generous. Generosity: there are five basic rules of conduct in Buddhism: do not cause harm, do not steal, do not consume toxins, do not commit sexual misconduct, and do not lie. Each of these basic rules is paired with a positive version: develop love and peace, be generous, cultivate awareness, cultivate contentment, and be truthful. Generosity helps one release attachments to property and other things we think we own, such as our time, our reputations, and so on.

The Middle Path - While Siddhartha was seeking enlightenment, he was a student of many teachers. One common kind of practice in India at this time was asceticism, in which the body was put under great stresses, such as fasting, self-harm, and the like. The idea was that by denying the pleasures (and needs) of the flesh, one could rise above it. Siddhartha was extremely good at this, and many of his teachers were sure he was going to be a great yogi. He gathered followers of his own, who were amazed at his devotion. Eventually he pushed himself so close to death that he could barely eat or drink at all; but still he was no closer to salvation. The desire for enlightenment itself had become a barrier to enlightenment. So he gave up on it and began to nurse himself back to health. His followers, not understanding, and disgusted at his weakness, left him; but he didn't care. After a little more time, as he sat begging, a woman brought him a big bowl of rice. He took this and divided it into 49 parts, deciding to eat this over the next 49 days as he sat in meditation under the bodhi tree. He resolved not to get up from that spot until he had achieved enlightenment.

The commentary card, The Middle Path, corresponds to the Temperance card. There is a lot of energy in this reading, a lot of motion, and my intuition is that the Temperance card is there to advise taking it easy with the new project and not burning out on it.

Advice for Jeff

(reading by Ali)

Judgement | Hanged Man | Page of Pentacles

Judgement (XX) - A call to new beginnings, restoration and wholeness, absolution and forgiveness. New life arising from death, a time of joy and rebirth. The trials and tribulations have passed and you are called, by destiny or a greater purpose, into renewed life in the light of a new dawn. Also, a time to reflect on the past and understand how the actions of yesterday have helped to shape today.

Hanged Man (XII) - Self-sacrifice, especially for the greater good. A time of release and surrender, letting go of the effort and will normally exerted towards concrete or practical accomplishments; instead, withdrawing into solitude, contemplation or more mystic/"spiritual" pursuits. "Turning the world upside down" to gain new perspective. This may be a period of difficulty - it depends on how willing or unwilling the sacrifice is.

Page of Pentacles - Opportunities for new growth and prosperity, a spark of initiative and potential offered. Grounded in earthy qualities like diligence, responsibility and practicality - relying on the tools and resources at hand - there is still a certain lightness and playfulness that accompanies every new beginning or intriguing opportunity. Also suggests an enjoyment of physical pleasures of the five senses, possibly in particular an engagement in nature (perhaps a literal garden?).

The Story - The energy of the cards doesn't seem to have one clear direction. The Angel of Judgement faces to the left to sound her call, but both the Hanged Man and the Page seem to face forward or out of the card (though the Hanged Man's body is turned to face towards the right, his head hangs down so that he's looking almost behind him). Considering the association of the Judgement card with the events of the past and the Page of Pentacles being associated with new opportunities, there is some indication that the energies should be read from left to right like a simple past-present-future spread. In this case, Judgement might be strongly indicative of the transformation and new life of spring (associated so strongly with Beltaine, especially with the undertones of death and "breaking free"). The Page of Pentacles might be associated closely in time with the Solstice, then - perhaps in a very literal way, as a time when your activities and projects are "bearing fruit" in the form of new opportunities or potential being realized… but in a way that still demands continued steady work and commitment in a very practical, grounded way. In the meantime, there's a suggestion, by the Hanged Man, of acceptance or surrender, perhaps a period of rest and release, turning inward to seek the inner wisdom of spirit… or perhaps simply in preparation for the work to come, in order to gain some new perspective or insight that might be useful for taking full advantage of those future opportunities when they arise.

Hasty Letter to Mentor

Wow, B--! That sounds like an amazing moment! :)

I'm wondering if I'm experiencing a little energy boost as a result of my ties to the grove, because after a month or two of feeling "blocked" spiritually (or, more accurately, feeling so intensely engaged with practical life stuff, I haven't had time to do much more than meditate), the last day or two I've had a renewal of energy and focus. My flamekeeping shift for Brigid was just yesterday, and I actually spent part of that time going back over the DOTR lessons and looking at where I am and what's coming up next. So your message is well timed! ;)

Right now, I'm just about to start in on the lessons for the four elements, starting with Air. I'm in the process of studying, on my own time, the basics of astrology, as well as Erynn Rowan Laurie's take on the ogham. So I'm thinking of tying the four element work in to that exploration (since I have more than a passing familiarity with the four elements already, and this would provide a refresher as well as a more in-depth exploration). I'm beginning my study of astrology with Stephen Arroyo's handbook, but plan to move on to his well-known work "Astrology, Psychology and the Four Elements" where he explores the energies of the four elements and how they express themselves in the planets, houses and aspects in great depth. I'll probably read that over the course of the next few months, even if it doesn't precisely match up with the lessons as they're outlined.

My other concern right now is finding a grove to practice with in-person here in Pittsburgh. On Imbolc, I attended a rite hosted by the local ADF grove, which was a very good experience for me. Since then, I've been meaning to make it to some of their discussion groups and smaller blessing rites that they hold throughout the month, but my schedule has been full-to-bursting (and last Sunday's Beltaine ritual was rained out - so Jeff and I did a simple garden blessing ritual with the kids in the backyard instead.) Also, part of me feels like if I'm going to be regularly involved in their work, perhaps it makes sense for me to "officially" join ADF. But I'm hesitant to do that in part because I definitely part ways with them on some key theological issues, and in part because I'm not so inclined to go through yet another year-and-a-day introductory course!

Jeff and I continue to talk about forming a grove of our own more in keeping with DOTR's style, and eventually he will decide to commit to joining DOTR as well. He's just not a very big group joiner in general, and not very keen on ritual - a bit too much Zen in him - he likes to just chase whatever interests him at the moment. I definitely feel that some in-person, real-life commitment and ritual work would be beneficial for me at this point, though, so maybe I can work on him. ;)

So that pretty much sums it up. Sorry this response is a bit rushed. Hopefully I'll have time a bit later today to sit down and go over things a bit more carefully. For now, have to run!

--Ali

She That Is: A Meditation on Brigid Star Fire

I gather together the candles, the prayer beads, the scattered objects and tools I've consecrated to Her over the past few years, and I set them before me on the altar. Three candles burning. One flame flickering deep, half-hidden in a thick, white pillar mostly melted down, its edges sculpted in soft dips and peaks like slowly collapsing snow or the heights of a mountain. One pillar still like new, solid sculpted wax, churning the cool rusted copper of LED electricity, nestled in its hurricane vase of cracked orange and red glass. One small candle floating, a dull gold ring around a bright, steady flame, hovering suspended by clear water studded with glints and glitter in a dark, blue bowl rimmed with black.

What is She? Who is She? Celestial, ephemeral, pristine and pure, delicate, new, grace itself, fresh and bright. Earthy, dark and grounded, sweat and dirt and hot breath, the hard flex and tension of muscle, the rough power of fire and stone, the burning fluidity of molten ore. Primal, deep and ageless, utter stillness and distance, utter light in the darkness, spun out, flung out, fragmented, holographic, the whispering wholeness buried within each disparate glint of limit and form.

And the hammer, the anvil, the spark — the sweat and hot breath of the universe, the work and labor of the cosmos brought to bear on itself, the earthy Ground of Being lifted, deepened, expanded to fill a sky overwhelmed with the clamor of stars, each forged, each made new, pristine, a shining fragment of light. And the stars, the infinite suns, perfect spheres in a great dance of beauty, humming with song, swung in great arcs as though in one another's arms, spinning into newly created moments, new beginnings, like a child spinning around her center in a fresh spring meadow, arms flung out, effortless in grace and welcome.

And the hiss of the steam, the pulsing of groundwater, the twining thrust of energy rising in the mound, a serpent of stars in the dark earth. The tongue of flame licking dark and bright above the wellspring, the purity and intensity of all-consuming heat, soften, tempered by the fresh, cold waters.

She is too much. I cannot hold onto Her, I cannot see Her — I can only follow the winding, spiraling connections, dynamic and always changing, fluid, fleet. Sometimes She is overwhelming, even austere, so hot and great that Her fire burns cold. Sometimes She is all innocence and promise, coaxing and gentle and warm, caressing and playful. Sometimes She is so intimate I cannot tell Her from my own passion, the drive that spurs me, the energy that courses through my blood and lashes out in righteous anger or sharp, clever words like a long blade. Sometimes, She is absence, void, the emptiness of death or grief, the keening of wind whistling through the hollow, the barely glimpsed sliver of light reflecting off the rainfall in the dusk, wane, distant, not enough.

Who is She? I don't know. I cannot describe Her outside of poetry, and poetry cannot do Her justice. She is creativity at the heart of existence, tempered and expressed in culture and art, the resistance and pressure of material forms that force us into relationship and engagement, and the release from those heavy forms afforded by inspiration and the spark of light and insight that lifts us up beyond ourselves, seems to defy even gravity itself. She is my Goddess, my Sun, my Center, my Light, my Starscape, my Tongue, my Draught, my Forge...

Diary

Sun: taurus (earth/fixed), 6:28 am - 8:09pm
Moon: last quarter, aquarius (air/fixed)
Earth: bright and sunny for most of the day, warm (in the high 70s) for the first time this spring, with thunderstorms moving in as dusk fell with a soft rain

"Sometimes you have to take a break from being the kind of a boss who's always trying to teach people things. Sometimes, you just have to be the Boss of Dancing."

- Michael Scott

Before I begin, I just want to make one quick note: I'm using Dragon dictation to write this diary entry. This is a software program I've begun using for work, and I figured I'd use it to write this diary entry to kill two birds with one stone. But using dictation software is very different from typing, so I'm not sure how it will go. sentences may seem awkward at first, especially since I can't correct or change my mind halfway through. Once I begin a sentence, I have to commit to finishing it. So if my sentences seem awkward, please forgive me, and hopefully I'll improve as I use the software more.

This morning I spent some time in meditation out in the backyard, as it was such a beautiful day, bright and sunny right from the start, and it's been a long time since I've spent any time in meditation on a regular basis. I realized that I reached a point where I was hesitant to meditate because I was afraid I would be out of practice. But remembering that there are external forms to ritual that I can rely on and that can help me ease back in to the more in-depth practice that I'm seeking, I decided to go ahead and jump back into regular practice. It held that the weather was so gorgeous, because it gave me an excuse to go outside and just sit and allow myself to relax and return to my breathing. my other intention was to try to reconnect with the earth and the land in this immediate area, especially because of the hydrocracking spill that occurred last week up in northern Pennsylvania. I've been wanting to write an article about it for the new blog, No Unsacred Place, but haven't known how to approach the topic in any coherent way. I strive for certain amount of poetic oppression, and that deep connection to the earth that can help me find the right words to express the importance of this issue. I am not exactly a news person or a fat person, I don't have very much confidence in listing all the evidence. I feel like my most moving pieces , my best kind of writing, is when I am able to draw from my personal experience—and yet, this is not something that I and experiencing personally. The world around me seems beautiful and healthy, and my only knowledge about this disaster comes from things I've read in the news or seen online. So I wanted to try to connect to the earth and reach out to the land to listen to what the land has say about the experience of this pollution and this tragedy. But I'm out of practice, and even if I weren't, I don't know if I would be able to listen like that to the land. I have had only fleeting experiences of the kind of connection that I've heard of in books, the tales of shamans from indigenous cultures and healers and even other pagans. Salons struggling to balance this lack of knowledge and lack of personal experience with my fear that I can't connect to the land in the way that I need to, that I won't be able to talk meaningfully about some of these very serious problems that deserve to be addressed.

This is tangentially related to some feelings I was having later this evening, that I think might be related to my Saturn return, and Jeff agrees with me with on that—he says that he read something this morning about how today would be a day of either great confidence or great self-doubt for most people all over the world. The stellium that was going on in Aries is finally coming to an end as most of the planets leave one by one, and Mercury has finally gone direct again. that might be one reason why I haven't been updating in this diary very much recently, there's been so much energy and intensity, and I focused it mostly on work and getting things done. In that way, I've been pretty successful. I've managed to launch my new website can, which looks fantastic, and get No Unsacred Place off the ground running, with lots of good posts from a number of different people. I'm doing well with my transcription work, and I have a plan for the next several months about various writing projects I want to undertake. But today, I found myself really bothered by a conversation on Facebook. I made the mistake of sharing a controversial article about the connection between autism and vaccinations that set—well, I was going to say a number of people, but that's just not true, it's really only one person whose opinion I value a great deal—in any case, I obviously have a problem being made of cool love in public. (So that sentence actually read, “being made a fool of”—but the mistaken transcription made me smile, so I'm going to leave it.)

The thing is, I don't know about the science behind vaccinations. I don't have time to know everything. But I do have personal experience of modern medicine, and how people are treated sometimes very poorly if they are viewed as lower class, or incompetent, or sometimes just female. Because I didn't have insurance the last time I went to the doctor, I was treated as though I were a know-nothing who couldn't be trusted to tie my own shoes, let alone keep myself healthy. A doctor told me in all seriousness that if my injured arm continued to hurt, that I should just take Vicodin to make the pain go away. The time before, when I was in a great deal of pain because of a urinary tract infection, the antibiotics they prescribed made me vomit so often I almost died of dehydration, and would have if just haven't been there to force me to drink Gatorade when I could barely sit up in bed. But when I returned to the doctor later, he told me that it must have been in my head because you can't be allergic to antibiotics. He proceeded to blame my anemia on being a vegetarian, even though I was diagnosed with and had suffered symptoms for years before becoming a vegetarian, and was able to mitigate my anemia once I gave up meat. To be treated with such disrespect is not an uncommon experience for a lot of people when they go to doctors and hospitals today, especially if they have a misunderstood disease or don't have the insurance to cover the treatment they might need. So I'm not surprised that parents are worried about what will happen to their children as a result of all of the vaccinations and drugs that are so blithely prescribed by doctors who sometimes don't really seem to care what your opinion is or whether or not you know what's going on or what's going into your body.

But none of that really matters. Parents who believed that there might be a connection between infant and childhood vaccinations and the increase in autism and other problematic diseases have been classified as nut cases, and anyone who states an argument even remotely agreeing with their perspective is dismissed. It bothers me that I don't know the science to back up the personal experience that I have had and I know others have had. It bothers me that debates cannot be nuanced or subtle, and that even people who I respect are very easier to demonize and to listen to spook stories and deride those who don't agree with them or don't know as much of them, rather than trying to be compassionate or educate them. And it really bothers me when a person uses the excuse of “being a parent of young children.” As if people who disagree with them couldn't possibly have families of their own or couldn't possibly be responsible parents themselves.

I think what bothers me most is the feeling that I can never know enough to be respected. I don't know if it's sexism or ageism or something else, or just in my head. But it often feels as though no matter how hard I study, no matter how eloquently I write, no matter how my ideas are born out by events and experiences, that I am rarely taken seriously, or if I am, it's treated as a one time thing, almost a miracle, unexpected at the very least. I feel resentful and bitter towards leaders in the pagan community to act as gatekeepers and whose recommendations are seen as the final word about what to value and who to listen to. I work my ass off. But often times, I feel as though I have no idea what will be viewed as valuable an intelligent by others, and what will be seen as arrogant, or confusing, or obscure, or just plain dull. I want to do work that is valuable and important, and work that stems from my personal experience and my view of the world, and yet sometimes it seems that it is precisely that kind of work, work that relies on and is rooted in personal experience instead of objective facts or the consensus of the majority, that is derided or dismissed.

Who is my authority? This is the question that Saturn prompts me to ask this coming year. Maybe the lesson is that I shouldn't try to talk about things that I haven't personally experienced. Yet that just doesn't seem right, not when so many things around me deserve to be talked about and need to be brought to people's attention. What about this spill up in northern Pennsylvania, that hardly anyone is paying attention to? I don't know. Maybe this is my fear of being irrelevant, and I should overcome it and trust that the experiences that I have are truly valuable. Maybe this is just the old fear that I live a protected and cushy life, and I have nothing to say of value unless I'm talking about tragedies that are going on elsewhere, over there, to those other people. Or maybe this is just all nonsense. I'm tired of having these debates. I'm tired of always having to justify myself and prove myself. I don't even know if I'm trying to prove myself to other people, or to myself, or some combination of the two. And I can't help but think that a lot of people must be feeling this right now. I know that I'm an intelligent person, and I have a good education that has continued to expand on my own time and with my own resources. What about those people who don't have those opportunities? Again, I can't help but feel like we need to have more compassion for people who might hold theories that seem crazy or kooky or wrong. But when I tried to say this, especially in the context where I shared something that turned out to be incorrect, it's so easy to accuse me of just trying to change the conversation and avoid acknowledging that I was wrong. (And of course, I don't even know that I am wrong, all I have is the word of other people who disagree with me for their own reasons.)

The incense wafts in the air. The candle burns steady. These things I experienced right now, as they are. I am not crazy for thinking that these things are meaningful, that they change the world and they change me through my willingness to experience them. How do I translate this into work that is meaningful for other people? Is this kind of frustration a good thing, something that I should embrace and acknowledge as a necessary reminder, a stick that will urge me on? Or is it something that I should leave behind? I used to always face into my fears, chasing them down in the belief that they would leave me to a deeper truth. Is this that kind of fear, or the kind that should be shrugged off and forgotten as silly? Maybe I should embrace the idea that I will be viewed as a ditz or a fool or, gods forbid, just a woman. May be there is a kind of freedom in that. I don't know. I could go around in circles all night with this question. I don't even know why it bothers me so much, but it's been on my mind all night.

I think, regardless of anything else, that I do need to return to my practice of centering and grounding, and renew my commitment to regular prayer and meditation. Even if it doesn't bring me any clarity on these types of issues, at least perhaps it'll get my mind to shut up for a little while and stop worrying over things that might not be all that important in the grand scheme. In any case, it's getting rather late, and I think I should end this.

I apologize for any strange wordings or typos. I've tried to catch most of them, but I'm still getting used to using this dictation software. Just being able to talk it out in a clear, articulate voice has actually helped me feel better about some of these issues. So maybe this will become a regular practice of mine. Or maybe not.

Diary Tarot Card

As I dealt out the cards, my mind wandering, a thought occurred to me: that when we worry too much about being perfect in our writing and our words, we assume a certain passivity in our readers and the community who receives the products of our creativity. Maybe there is a place, instead, for trust—trust that, even if our words are not perfect or our work salvific, that they will be received in such a way that they will have the right effect anyway. I think of Merton and detractors who talk about his ideas as dangerous and self-absorbed, and yet so many people have been drawn to contemplation and mysticism through his writing. Even if he was a self-absorbed sex-maniac (as some folks tell it), his writings still have a blessing effect on many. Maybe that's the best we can hope for.


© Stephanie Pui-Mun Law, The Shadowscape Tarot

The Knight of Cups follows his dreams, the idealist and romantic who listens deeply to the stirrings of connection and emotion at the heart of things and follows the promptings of his intuition. He is almost reckless in his pursuit of those ideals, sure that his faithfulness and honest devotion will bear him to those dreams he seeks.

The King of Swords sits poised, a portrait in stilled movement, a thinker gazing abstractly over his realm. He is balance and reason, the weighing of night and day, art and science brought to bear on one another. Clarity of vision and depth of insight, thought and memory, are his guides. He does not go out seeking on a quest, but sends his thoughts flying to the farthest realms while he remains, a pillar of strength and intelligence.

Meanwhile, in the Six of Cups is a reminder of childhood innocence and open-mindedness, an embrace of all the possibilities the world holds. It is a card of simple joys and pleasures, and an imaginative engagement with the world that prompts a response in kind. The little girl sets her table and pours her tea, never minding that grown-ups might not believe or might claim she's only imagining—and sure enough, the faeries slip in to share her simple, playful ritual with her, welcomed guests for once not shuffled off with skepticism and disbelief.

The cards in this spread present a clear movement from right to left, as each figure seems to move into the next. The Knight of Cups, with his idealism and romanticism, might represent the initial urge at the beginning of the journey, the spark that sets the whole thing rolling. Perhaps in this case, it represents the higher pull of justice and peace that I feel, that drives me towards… the King of Swords, that desire to see clearly across the whole realm, to become, through knowledge and clarity of insight, a ruler even over life and death, day and night. In the King of Swords card, the movement of the Knight is stilled and restrained, reigned in to be refined and directed wisely, without undue haste or recklessness. In this spread, it's almost as though the stillness in the King of Swords makes space for the innocence and play in the Six of Cups—while at the same time, the Sword card is the fulcrum on which everything turns, so that if the call of idealism is the urge that begins the journey, the exercise of careful thought and clarity of insight is the way the journey is made, even in the midst of seeming stillness. And what both of these lead towards is that expression of innocence and imagination—that is what, in the end, has the power to change the world, evoking engagement and relationship. Piercing intelligence is stilled and respectfully restrained in the presence of creativity. Again, there is that message of the stilled sword—the sword held up to cast light, rather than to strike a killing blow. Again and again, this symbolism comes up. Something to ponder for the future.

Astrology of Me: Change and Career

By way of explaining my absence here for the past month or so, I'll just cite this excerpt from the astrology site that Jeff routinely checks. He checked it this morning when we were both up before dawn — he, out of self-discipline, and I, because I woke up around 5 AM thinking about coding and website design and couldn't fall back asleep.

Uranus Triune the Midheaven seems to pretty much nail it on the head.

This influence represents a period in your life when you can make creative changes in both your professional and your personal life. In your career, sudden opportunities may come about that enable you to move in radically new and different directions. Often this influence signifies a change in career to another field such as scientific or technical professions, including electronics, computers and engineering. This influence can also signify an interest in the occult, especially astrology.

But this period has a larger significance. At this time you are able to change your life direction and do something that more truly expresses your individuality. The problem for most people is that this new field may be quite different from what you were taught was a "proper" profession. Most people's focus in this regard is too narrow. It is very important now to let yourself explore any field of endeavor that attracts you, regardless of how well it fits your preconceptions of a career. Please note that your new direction may not be a career in the usual sense but a field to which you devote your life, although it is unrelated to making a living. One's avocation may well be one's true calling.

The only restriction is that your new direction should be ethical and legal, simply because this influence can create serious problems with the law if you are not careful about legality.

This is also a time in your life when you will be innovative in whatever you do. Your thinking is fresh and original, and you do not try to solve new problems with old solutions, either in your profession or in your personal life. Thus you will be attracted to new techniques and new ideas, especially for your own personal development.

This influence began in May 2010 (right around the time I first injured my wrist, which eventually led me to quitting my old job at the end of June 2010) and will last until January 2012. It's the kind of influence with peaks and troughs, and one of those peaks occurred just recently, building strength through February and cresting the third week of March — right during the week that Jeff and I were at a week-long business conference where I put in more than fifty hours of work. The next peak will come in October, during yet another week-long business conference.

So let's see. We've got:
√ a new career direction doing relatively nonconventional work from home
√ tax issues cropping up due to filing as a "self-employed" independent contractor
√ complications in exploring legal options for a Pagan wedding (not career related, but still)
√ new, intense interest in website design and the use of new media in unique ways
√ growing interest in astrology

So there you have it. I don't know why I even bother keeping a diary, if the stars are going to be so precise.

Diary

I just realized that I haven't updated here in forever, and even now it's past my bedtime. The past several weeks have been very much akin to those contests you sometimes see on TV, where burly lumberjacks have to dance across rolling logs as they turn and bob in the rough waters of a wide river. I've been jumping from project to project with an intensity that, normally at this time of year, I devote to revamping my yoga routine and plunging into spring cleaning. (Jeff has been worrying that I'm ungrounded... but how can you ground on a rolling log? You just have to dance.)

I'm wondering if the stellium in Aries has anything to do with it. Last night I had a dream that Jeff and I were in a classroom full of people where a professor was trying to give a lecture, when his podium went up in flames. I tried to rally folks to get out to safety, but everyone just sat there like startled sheep, and eventually I made a bolt for the door and managed to find a fire alarm in the hallway that set the whole place ringing with sirens and warning bells.

So it seems a lot of my life right now is about movement and energy, and learning to move when you have to, to keep up and stay safe. I stay wound all day, intensely focused on my work, and at night, I sleep like a log. It's like my own little private version of spring, with sap rising and everything waking.

Except that I remember past springs, when I had time for things like poetry and daydreaming. Not that I don't enjoy being productive and rising to the challenge.... but I think right about now I could go for a few poems about daffodils. Not to mention a few actual daffodils. It's been a long winter.