Blessings Darlings!
There is some great writing out there on the Interwebs. Today’s link is to great writing on a site that uses the Pioneer Woman site as its inspiration. Go read the link, then come back and finish reading THIS post:…
Faeries – on the New Normal
I’m very excited to say that tonight I will be on the blog radio show the New Normal tonight discussing Faeries. I met Tchipikkan at the first Changing Times, Changing Worlds conference(…)
Lenten Traditions
Blessings Darlings!
Yes, I know we’re closer to Advent than Lent if you look at the Christian liturgical calendar.
As you may have already picked up, I’m a moderate Doomer. I think that our society is facing problems (mostly End of Oil and Climate Change) that we are not at all facing, and that are making our shaky economy fail. Because of this I see ‘getting by’ as getting harder and harder in the future. I’m not saying that…
Battle Cry!
Blessings Darlings!
I was just clued into a neat blog by woman who works with the Morrighu. It’s a WONDERFUL read. Skitter your butts over there.
http://shield-maiden.blogspot.com/2012/09/why-we-fight.html
Frondly, Fern
Fern’s Cole Slaw Recipe
Blessings Darlings!
When your lunches tend to be soup and a salad, as our lunches often are (well, we also have popcorn a lot), having a lot of salad options is a good thing. Add that to the fact that cabbage is very healthy and usually cheaper than lettuce is, pound for pound …. cabbage based salads are something we eat a lot.
Belief and Practice
There seems to be a pervasive, underlying dualism in paganism which can be seen in the various either/or arguments that go around. Either religion or spirituality. Either modern or traditional. And at the moment, either belief or practice. It should come as no(…)
Boneyard Mysteries
I wipe my hands to prepare to call the Purging Fire when I note I have become bloodsoaked from the fresh bones. My hands, arms, and body from chest down, is covered in never-drying blood. That’s okay. I know what to do.
1,859 words
Losing My Religion
How’s that for an original title, eh?
So, one of the few friends I have online who is not afraid to stand up to me and call me on my bullshit (spiritually speaking) recently called into question my devotion to my Gods due to the fact that my view of Them has become symbolic, rather than literal.
I had begun seeing Them as representative of ideals, as goals for my spiritual development, rather than dynamic, living beings who are able to affect my daily life. They weren’t worthy of devotion in and of Themselves, but had devolved, in my mind, into mere focal points for use in my personal plans.
What I discovered, as part of this evolution/devolution, was that life seemed a bit empty without a deeper meaning behind what I casually referred to as “my Gods”. They suddenly became two-dimensional, seemingly drawings, rather than the three dimensional transcendent sparks of creativity, imagination, and morality that I wanted and needed Them to be.
As a result of this “evolved” view, my very personality began to suffer. The fire which once defined who I was somehow died to smoldering embers. Even my speech patterns began to change. My will was broken by my own intellect. What I thought was an epiphany turned out to be an extinguishing of a vital part of my humanity.
I realize now that I have a need to believe in my Gods as living entities rather than usable quaint relics of the past. No, I still don’t believe that They shape my destiny…but They are the pillars that support the road I am travelling…allowing my journey to continue.
Here’s to the rekindling of fires, kicks in the ass by friends, and finding what was once lost.
Hey, Blackbird…thanks for being such a bitch.
Thinking About Death
I don’t believe those witches called to the service of the necromantic gods of night, the owl-eyed mistresses of winter, the bone-faced kings of the sickle blade, are worshiping death, I believe we are venerating a truth, that death and what lies beyond it is as fundamental to our spiritualities as life and all it’s trials. (…)
In The Hall Of The Goblin King
“Yea, I’m sober. And the ripples bother me less than a stubbed toe. Not a problem. What gives?” He stops tapping the envelope and hands it to me without a word. Elaborate decorations covers the exterior. Inside is a handwritten note written in a language I can not read. But I can feel the impetus it carries. Weaver is being called upon. By name. Weaver has stories to tell.
2,407 words