Saturday, January 31, 2015

Here Comes The Sun...

Hello, All! I wanted to do a little something about Imbolc, but realized I had done that in years past. So, being numb and tired from the drastic cold (that's my story, anyway), I decided to reiterate the highlights. See below:

We are on the verge of Imbolc (or Imbolg), otherwise known as La Fheile Bride in Irish (the Feast of Brighid, or Brighid's Day. Name variations include Brigid, Bridget, Brigit, Brid and Bridgit). Any Pagan or Wiccan can tell you, this is one of the four cross-quarter points on the wheel of the year. It celebrates the coming of the ewes into milk, the lambing season (Imbolc means “in the belly”), the germination of seeds, and the goddess (or saint) who represents fire, smithcraft, and poetry. (Poetry was considered a “fire in the head”.)

It is a time of celebrating the Feminine principle in the season of the God, just as Lammas celebrates the Masculine principle in the Goddess season. It also marks the beginning of longer days, and the sun's obvious return and gathering strength. Several monolithic monuments are aligned so that the rising sun on Imbolc illuminates their inner chambers.

Brigit Crosses were woven at this time as a symbol of the turning of the wheel. They were often put in the roof beams of the house as a protection against fire.

By Irish tradition, a “bed” was fashioned for Brigit before the family hearth, and a doll representing her (the Brideog) was carried from house to house as a blessing.

Food offerings were left by the fire, and articles of clothing placed outside so that she may bless them as she passed by. One related belief specifies that a length of white cloth should be hung out the window on the eve of the feast, so that it can catch the morning's dew. This cloth can then be tied around the head, the jaw, or an injured limb, as it removes pain.

When the new religion gained power, Brigit was too ingrained in the minds of the common folk to banish her. In actuality, much that was part of Pagan Ireland was merely absorbed by the Church. Brigit's feast day, power and traditions were now ascribed to Saint Brighid the “Mary of the Gael”. Even her sacred fire, once tended by her priestesses, is today maintained by nuns in Kildare.

The Feast of Brigit, or Imbolc, also corresponds with Candlemas on Feb 2nd. This is the Church's fire ceremony when candles are blessed for the coming liturgical year. It is another shadow of the power of the Goddess and her element of fire.

Imbolc was a day of weather prediction, so it is not surprising that Groundhog Day occurs on this date as well. The old legend is that Brigit – in the guise of a crone – goes out on this morning to collect wood for the rest of Winter. If the day was sunny and bright, she could see to gather enough wood for another 6 weeks. If the weather was cloudy or foul, she would only gather a small amount. That would mean Spring would have to come early.
Now. Here is something new to chew on..The Crone was a shape shifter. In Ireland, she usually assumed the form of a hare. She could also assume the form of a hedgehog.

 In this guise, she could  be used to predict the weather. In America, we have no native hedgehogs. The nearest stand-in was.. drum roll ... the groundhog.

Ergo, the Goddess Brigit = Crone in Winter = hedgehog guise = groundhog.

PA has their famous groundhog. In nearby Milltown NJ, we have Mel. 

Staten Island has Chuck. I don't know what poor whistling pig will have the duty in NYC, but last year the mayor dropped Charlotte, who later died. He is not allowed to touch this year's rodent. Good.

Sherlock News: The filming of the special continues, with the stars showing up in Victorian garb.


What evil do you think Moffat and Gatiss are brewing this time? As we wait to see, enjoy a very campy parody. It's from “Rubber Chicken Films”. That should be your first clue....

For my fellow Pagans, Happy Imbolc!

For my fellow Sherlockians, Happy Groundhog Day. Watch for clues of a short Winter!

Tuesday, January 13, 2015


I'm sorry. I had nothing planned for this week's blog. So I have resorted to...parodies! Hang on, Who and Lock fans. I'm about to underwhelm you with my ditties.

                                            SHERLOCK'S SONG

                                      ( tune: “All About That Base”)

Because you know it's all about that case, solve the case. No trouble.
It's all about that case, solve that case. No trouble.
It's all about that case, solve that case. No trouble.
It's all about that case, solve that case.

I think it's elementary. I'm not a “Yard” man,
But I can suss a crime scene better than they can.

I know their motives, their henchmen and their faces -
all the tight clues in all the right places.

I can deduce your story the moment that you plop.
Stand up, I know you're lying. I'm bored now; you can stop.

The Yard will soon arrest you, so put 'em up,
And I'm gonna smash your network from the bottom to the top.

At last Lestrade, Mycroft, Molly, and John finally realize,
that it's all truly transport; the puzzle's the only prize.

And if your crime's under seven, you're singing your trite, sad song,
Get out. I'm not wearing pants till a tricky death come along.

And then I will be all about that case, solve the case. No trouble.
It's all about that case, solve that case. No trouble.

It's all about that case, solve that case. No trouble.
It's all about that case, solve that case.

Is Moriarty back?
Well, I can't tell. There's been no new attack.
That's Season 4 – you have to wait for that.
You're whining? Please. When it gets here I've a feeling
it will drive you to your knees.

And I'll be
All about that case, solve the case. No trouble.
It's all about that case, solve that case. No trouble.
It's all about that case, solve that case. No trouble.
It's all about that case, solve that case.


                                           (Tune: If I Only Had A Brain”)


I've been sucked on by a dream crab
and now I'm needing rehab
before I go insane.
I am feeling less smarter.
My medulla's turned to tartar
since a dream crab ate my brain.

Am I here in climate zero
or Christmas-ing with dear old
Danny Pink instead?
Snarky elves, reindeer flying,

am I at the Pole or...

'cause a crab is in my head?

Picture me, in ecstasy,
while my vital signs are slowly growing cold.
Do you think this dream crab makes my face look old?

(See what I did?...sigh...I'll quit.)

I was in the sleigh with Santa
repeating my new Mantra:
It's just a fantasy”.
I am stuck with my face in-
side an alien crustacean
sipping cells like they were tea.

..and this crap's not the hardest..

one more season in the TARDIS
with Capaldi. Oh, bite me !

Sorry if I ruined your day....

...or maybe not.