Saturday, July 24, 2010
She read the Watchtowers, spoke to church teachers, embraced their particular view of Christianity – then dropped them cold.
“Why?” I asked.
“They expected me to go door to door. I have a schedule. I'm busy. Their level of commitment doesn't fit my lifestyle.”
Imagine my surprise when, decades later, this same sentiment was expressed to me by some of my own “Witchlets”. It's an unfortunate by-product of a generation raised on instant gratification. If it can't be Googled, Twittered, or reconstituted in a microwave in under 5 minutes, it doesn't suite their “lifestyle”.
The problem is, “The Divine” (however one defines it) is not a respecter of our cluttered calendars. I speak only for my own family Path, but Spirituality can not be ordered on-line. (“This package contains Wisdom! Insight! Psychic Perception! Tranquility! And Magical Abilities! Just add Chalice Well water!”). As we rush around, attending to our personal wants and needs, we keep the Old Ones on hold, listening to the muzak of the spheres, until we can fit them in. This tendency towards “catch as catch can” devotion alters radically, however, as soon as an ambulance siren sounds in our driveway. Suddenly, the Gods become our BFFs, a focus of promises and prayers.
I am not advocating a life spent on one's knees, or conducting elaborate rituals every evening when the kids go to bed. I actually do believe that everyday responsibilities – like household chores and attending to children's needs – can be done in a sacred manner. Working with the earth – tending a garden and feeling the connectedness with the divine energies in the soil – can be a spiritual observance, if done with focus and deliberateness. Cleaning out the refrigerator is a sacred act if we purposely focus of making it a symbol of inner cleansing – and retain that focus throughout the process. It can NOT be claimed as a holy rite, after the fact, when all you did was exclaim “Eewh!” and “What the hell's in this Tupperware?”
I recently offered an elevation to a student who has denigrated the idea of “ritual” within her Wiccan practice. She was perfectly content to have me perform the rite alone, while she “tuned in” to it wherever she found herself (grocery store, poolside etc.). It was the ultimate example of “phoning it in”. Some things just shouldn't be multi-tasked.
Non-committed Wicca is not Wicca.
“Back seat” spirituality is just bad juju.
Better hope that the Old Ones don't take a clue from us and develop a new idea of their own: Instant Karma.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
But..it's caused me to wonder...
Although I could never tolerate being a trance medium or channeler (Hey, go get your own larynx!) I do have psychic/mediumistic skills. I have assisted local authorities, helped solve one murder, and frequently was yelled at by my dead mother. So now, a human skin graft is being added to my left ankle. Humm...
“Where is this patch coming from?” I asked my doctor.
“Right here in Jersey.”
“No, I mean the source of the skin.”
“As in, 'take my skin, I won't be needing it' kind of donor?”
So here I am, a woman who has conversations with dead people, a psychic and sensitive, getting a piece of some deceased person grafted onto my foot. This is a new experience for me. I've had some of my own stuff taken out, but nobody else's anything added on, not even a blood transfusion. What fresh, paranormal hell could I be walking into now? (yes, I see the irony in that last statement. Duh.)
Well, there could be the mild, obvious phenomena, like flashes of memory, dreams involving folks I don't know but who feel familiar. Yet, there are other possible dimensions. Given infinity, there is a chance my left appendage could turn into (what my daughter calls) “zombie foot”.
If this graft “takes” and thrives, is it not like resurrecting a piece of the deceased? If blood cell tissue merges with my own circulatory system, is this not re-animation of “dead” tissue? Could my poor, wounded terminus become “Frankenfoot”? (Or, worse yet, Frankenfuter? Will I wake up one morning with my toe nails painted red, and a black corset bandage hugging my ankle?)
I mean – so many things are possible. What if the donor had an unsavory life and molested children. Would I find my left foot rubbing up and down the legs of my young niece and nephews, under the tables at restaurants? ( Bringing a duel meaning to the word “ped”ophile”)
What if the donor was artistic? Will I awake one morning to find my toes gripping a brush, painting window scenes and flower pots all over my new sheets?
What if he was a psychic himself? Will my leg become the new antenna for “radio free dead guy”? After all, some people get dental work and pick up radio broadcasts on their fillings. Who's to say that this graft won't become the skin head of a virtual message timpani for the dead – organic voice phenomena ? ( Picture Kat, pulling her foot to her ear and saying “I'm sorry, I missed that”.)
Talk to the hand? Huh. Not in my world.
Wish me luck.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
...But my "thing" is changing.
My astrologer says that's to be expected. I went today looking for an update on my health (major issues have loomed over my head for the past 3 years), and on various partnerships, both private and professional.
The good news: something is no longer transit my something else and Neptune has veered off my bumper, after 10 years or more. The bad news: here comes Pluto! Oh, hooray! Something is trine my uncle's station wagon on my mother's side, and even though the worse is over, here comes the chaser.
I am no longer on the dirt road. I am on a paved road with lots of "speed humps". (Why does New Jersey call them "humps" anyway?)
My foot surgery on July 21st will be fine. I will live a long, long life...hooked up to machines... unless I follow every direction my doctor gives me. Humm. I have 4 doctors and no two agree on anything, but I think I know what he means. I am a diabetic in semi-denial. After years of oral medication I have just been put on insulin.
OK - break time over. Everybody on their heads!
So yes, the stars are giving me a message: down with the hash brown; up with the lettuce. The stars are also saying that I am just starting a period of honing down my environment, and clearing out that which holds me back or no longer works for me. (Is that why I can't find the stuffed pony I had since I was four?)
Even though I am a Wiccan Elder, I will be getting more deeply involved not only in my own magical workings but also other aspects of the Occult - like speaking to the dead. (He must know I work in insurance. Asking my co-workers anything IS like speaking to the dead.)
Finally, a romantic relationship will be developing for me in the next year or two. I looked at him as though an ectoplasmic head was growing from his right shoulder. Me? at 56? A round, aging, gimpy grandma? Yes, he says it's true. The other head said nothing.
As to my writing career, I am taking off sans the old partner and teaming with another student. I had a brilliant idea for a book of spell crafting, with an approach that no one has though of before. I'll handle the writing, and my partner ( with my help) will focus on the creative end, developing the actual spell and crafted item.
As to my newly published book, I'm told to go promote it and it will really take off.
OK then! Go buy "Things Your Elders Never Told You" available through both Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble.com.
As to future Blogs, I hope to get better. My spelling never will, which is why books have editors. My apologies in advance.