Friday, December 21, 2012

The Slavs are coming and boy are they pissed.

There are no altars this year. I've torn them all down and replaced them with poison plants. There is a Christmas tree and other acceptable holiday decorations. Yule is not here.

I find it amazing and I am beyond anger that I am expected by my in laws to respect their religious beliefs and family values while they regard both me and my beliefs as evil. It's been 13 years, I think I am done. I am heartsick that after all this time my husband can not help me find a solution. His solution has always been ignore it, it will blow over and they will see what a great person you are. Well, I am into 13 years of: oh it will get better. It's not better. And I realize that I have been relegated to the corner as the family member that is openly ignored because she is not like us, but make sure to wish her a Merry Christmas anyway. Now, I am angry and inconsolable. I am angry at myself for believing in my husband's optimism.

I started not showing up to holidays and family events, but I fear I have given them just what they want. My absence. They get to look at their shiny grandchildren and forget the evil one who bore them. Every Yule for 13 years, I have been given pain without the courtesy of a pretty box or ribbon I can later reuse. My husband expects me to not only be okay with that, but to behave and then when it comes up he asks: are we gonna go here again??? He says that because he doesn't know what to do, so doing nothing is his answer. I think he actually got miffed at me when I demanded the kids stay home with me this year while he goes to his parent's house. I would actually like to spend the holiday with my children this year instead of my friends' kids. It would be nice if he would stay home with me, but his mother's umbilical cord is still attached. Actually, of late, everyone else's opinion weighs more than mine.

Well, if he's not miffed at me for requesting the presence of my children in my little pagan evils, he will be now for publicly broadcasting that there hardships in marriage where two religions are observed. Hex, he may be angry at me for hinting that marriage is hard period. Actually, there is a part of me that thinks he is just waiting for the socially acceptable moment to divorce me ( kids all grown and or he makes it big and can afford a nanny.) It makes me feel used, that thought, like our marriage is a sham. There is a part of me that wants to say he has a LOT of sucking up to do, but that would just involve meaningless trinkets and other BS. I don't want material crap. I want my husband's heart, his respect, admiration even. I want to feel like I actually matter rather than a convenience who knows where all the milk sales are and can spell well. I want to know that he actually understands the meaning of the words coming out of my mouth. I want to know that he sees me. I thought that was all stuff I earned when he  asked me to marry him.

We had a really large blow up a few weeks ago.  Actually, I think I did. It's the same argument, but more heat, another year's layer of pain being anticipated. I packed bags, emptied bags, repacked bags, threw bags. I took our wedding rings and threw them into the dark abyss of the deep sea trunk I inherited from my Grandmother. Good luck finding them. This was the same day I tore down all of my altars and packed everything away. My position was: FINE! I will never inconvenience you with my religion again. I miss my altars, but I am too stubborn and angry to put them back up right now. When I made commentary about putting them back up, he made the comment that he never told me to take them down. It came out in a self righteous tone that made me want to go find a punching bag. I hope that's not what he meant; it only fueled more anger that he either thinks has evaporated or he is ignoring because he doesn't know what to do.

I am going to have my Feri Feast, drink my sugarplum faery vodka and make glogg. I will do this all without my husband or his blessings. I am going to listen to those who have walked before me and figure out what I am going to do. Doing nothing is not an option. I have been 13 years of waiting for a solution or maybe just a scrap of hope. Most of all, I will be teaching my daughter that THIS SHIT IS PURELY UNACCEPTABLE and never marry a man who tries to hand you his heart while it's still ruled by his mother.

This post is not about pissing my husband off, although I know it probably will. It's not even about venting. It's more of a cautionary tale about what happens when you combine religions and marriage. It's hard all by itself to blend lives together in a functioning unit. It's harder when there is no emotional support or even acknowledgment that something is wrong. While I know my husband loves me and I know that I love him, this hurdle is hard to get around and I suppose every marriage has at least one very large boulder on the path. This one is ours. . . or maybe just mine.

I hope that your Yule is happy and bright and looks nothing like mine. This has been your cautionary tale. Pass it around and do not repeat.


Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Dear Everyone on planet Earth

Violence will be done whether it be knife, rope, rock, or gun. It's not anything that can be legislated against in names of tools. It can't be prevented without looking at the make up of the fabric of each thread within a community. If I who has had visions about these things and can not do anything to prevent them because I have no real time info such as place and time, what the HEX makes you think YOU CAN! Legislation means nothing. Control is an illusion!

You know what works?????

Compassion, attentiveness, mercy, and love.

You are the difference, the power, and change.

Make it good.

End of rant.

Monday, December 17, 2012


We, my husband and I,  put our children on school buses this morning with a smiling facade, especially for our kindergartener who knows nothing of what evil has transpired. We plan on keeping it that way for as long as we can get away with it. I suppose, fortunately for me, that I have already established a certain quirk in the morning as I am waving good bye to a bus full of children. If I had not already started, this incident would have sparked the practice. As the bus is pulling away with all our precious ones settled aboard, I draw a pentacle over it and whisper to the Gods for the blessings of protection from all harm. I been given looks that vary from quizzical to mockery for my actions. These things do not concern me and are more a reflection of other individuals rather than that of myself. This morning I added a request: that this blessing includes healing and that all who come in contact with those on this bus also receive this blessing. Stones in the pond causing ripples is the effect I am looking for.

There was a list of names that floated by me. It was hard looking at the numerals behind the names and I felt infinitely grateful that my children's names were not on that list. I keep thinking of someone I know whose job it is to be the school police officer for 6 six schools and how she would have felt if this happened at one of her schools, on her watch. I have a feeling her city will be finding more officers to help her out in the wake of this.

And in the wake of this, we are having dialogues about gun control, mental illness management, and why????? We as a nation *yes, this includes you, lawmakers* emphasize and enact the words sensible, compassionate, and practical as we create new foundations for things like addressing the legislation of weapons and mental health management. I think the most important thing we all need to remember is this: if someone is seeking to do violence, they will find the method and means to carry it out. The children in China, who were attacked around the same time as our children, were assaulted with a knife not a gun. We need to move deliberately, thoughtfully, and effectively. We need to make sure not to have a knee jerk reaction that will set the pendulum swinging wildly.

Right now, all I can think of doing that is practical is to send reiki; a whole blanket of it to cover and comfort everyone. I also am in the process of making little protection/ comfort pocket charms for the little ones immediately around me. I have not decided whether they will be the stars or mushrooms from Mario Bros. but either way, they will be stuffed with the leaf and blossoms of lavender * harvested on a Wed. in the hour of Mercury. Am I going too far here???*

Newtown, may all your roads lead to healing and hope. I am heartbroken and heartsick for your loss. I hope that, should you decided to open up Sandy Hook again,  you call in a Holy Person or dozen to bless her. One of the things I have learned about buildings is that they develop a personality and have hearts. Sandy Hook is surely shattered and grieving. Holes have been punched into her on many different planes.

Be healed.
Be blessed.
Be well.

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

The Chariot lesson
Things turn slower in house neighborhoods as opposed to apartment neighborhoods. The frenzied activity of life is concentrated into a smaller place with more people spinning the wheel. I think I did okay as an apartment dwelling witch. I managed to keep the muck and mire of it all of that mostly at bay and made some really great friends of trees from head to stern of the Valley. I can feel the layers of adjustment peel away in finer and finer layers, but extended apartment living leaves it's mark. It gets so quiet around here that when I feed Bruiser * the hearth's beta fish*, I can hear him chew. Yes, I said that: I can hear my fish chew his food. That is an experience I probably would have never had in the apartments.

Everything about this last part of the year has been about trying to get me to slow down, and I have had no success with my compulsion to get up and go do something, anything, right now. In this failure of mine, I have manifested cold after cold after allergy attack and whatever else was floating around at the cootie factory we call schools and THEN some. I think I got this way because I kept drawing the Chariot. Every time I saw the Chariot show up. I felt as though I wasn't doing enough, or well enough in one area. Somehow I kept feeling as though I were being reminded that I was insufficient in some mysterious manner and had to prove my worth to the Universe.

I think I read that wrong. The thing that caught my attention was a recent experience I had at a friends house. She had mentioned that something had been missing. I had my pendulum on me asked if we could use this as practice fodder. She agreed and we proceeded to ask a bunch of yes-no questions. We managed to find what it was we were looking for in short order, actually. The trigger for my realization came when we hit a bit of a snag in our spirit conversation. As it turned out, our perspectives were not quite in synch. His idea of a back closet was different than ours.

Communication is difficult. It's amazing we succeed at it at all.

So back to the Chariot. The message wasn't: you're a mess, take charge. The message was: you are choking up the reigns.


***In other news: my phone has decided that it no longer likes twitter or most social media apps so all things with my twitter will have to be done from Dinoputer. Really, I'm not ignoring you. With Tumblr and Twitter not working for me, I am not able to post pics from my phone, which sort of chaps my hide. Until I get this slowly sorted out, I will have to rely on the wealth of imagery provided already on the web. I will do my best to properly credit what I borrow. I will still be checking in and answering emails and generally raising Caine.