AIR CRASH OVER NEW JERSEY

VON HINDENBIRTHDAY BALLOON CRASH, MONROE TWP. NJ 2014

It's practically standing still now....

They've dropped the string from the bottom of the balloon. It been taken ahold of by a number of clips down on the floor.

It's started to rain again. The rain had slacked up a little bit. The back door of the manor is open and the breezes are holding the cupcake just enough to keep it from...

It's bound to deflate! Get back, Rufus, get back. It's helium...it's leaking. It's

 

 leaking terrible! Oh dog! Get out of the way, please! It's falling on the

 

morning stars..And all party planners agree this is terrible: the worst of the

 

worst cupcake-tastrophes in the room.

Crashing, oh! four or five feet into the sky..and it's terrible, ladies and

 

gentlemen. No smoke, no flame...

... but the mylar is floating to the ground, not quite to the table mat. The rain and the breezes and Oh, the humidity! Ah! It's....ah! I can't talk, ladies and gentlemen. Honest:

It's just laying there, a mass of empty wreckage. Rufus, that's terrible. Ah, ah...I can't. Listen, folks: I... I'm gonna have to stop for a minute. I've lost my normal voice due to the helium. This is the worse deflation I've ever witnessed.

 

 

(Sorry,folks. I just couldn't resist!)

OWL BE SEEING YOU...

I would like to thank Eric Lee and Mystickal Tymes in New Hope, PA for hosting my book signing on August 9^th. It was an opportunity to see family and old friends, and to get a lot of swag bags (with Fate Magazines and other goodies) into the hands of a bunch of shoppers.

There will be another one in October, date pending.

Also thanks to Bob and Maureen for providing the wheels!

On August 12^th, I returned to hospital for my initial exam after radiology. There seems to be some improvement! I may not be out of the woods, but I'm definitely through the forest. I go back in six weeks. In the interim, there are things I must do to insure my internal health..in a matter of speaking. Use your imagination. My doctors want me to do one of the things the Sisters of Charity said would give me a one-way ticket to Hell.

Wonder what Sister “Moral Mary Immaculate” (not real name, but I'm sure there's one out there) would do in my pointed shoes. She was the grade school teacher who told us the only time we should touch our bodies was when bathing. I refused to use any bathroom stall that she used before me. Then, there was the day she scratched her nose...and I merely pointed at her (a la “j accuse!”).

Yeah, I'm sure given the choice between Cancer side effects and partying down with a medical device, the convent would be playing Barry White and lighting mood candles.

During all this, owls have been popping up in dreams, cards, symbols all over the place. In one particularly disturbing dream, many of us were plunging to our deaths from an exploding castle. Some of us only survived by moving our arms to channel the wind..and in such a manner turned into huge gliding owls who landed safely. Many didn't transform, and fell to their demise in human form. Others changed too late and struck the earth in the guise of owls, or half owl/ half human.

I was an eagle owl. I still had the power of speech. I turned to an owl beside me and asked, “Why?” The answer was: adapt or die.

Many associate owls with wisdom. They are, after all, the totem animal of the goddess Athena. However, in other societies, an owl is a warning to be discreet, to keep one's own counsel. Owls are guides to inner knowledge, and clarity in the night. Perhaps it's time to look inward, to heal what is occult and not just the obvious physical. Humm...what do you all think?

Anyway, onward through the fog. I found yet another Sherlock parody. I know they're inane, but they're kinda fun. Oh! And I swiped this off a friend's Facebook posting:

Enjoy the last of the Summer sun!

TOO-RA-LUGH-RA-LUGH-RA

Good Gods, it's already Lammas! I can't believe how fast the year is spinning! It seemed we just celebrated Midsummer, slipped in the mud, and slammed smack into August.

Perhaps those ancient Celtic farmers felt the same way. One minute you're planting, the next - harvesting. Oh yes, harvest. There are various fruits to be gathered, veggies, and some crops as well. (Here in the States, corn had to be knee high by the fourth of July. Those ears should be ripe for the picking about now.)

But Lammas (“loaf mass”) or “Lughnasadh” (for the sun god Lugh, pronounced “Loo” - oh, NOW you get the title!) is more than a day in the agrarian calendar. It is a festival. In the season of the Goddess, we take time to remember the God. Before the greater harvest of crops takes place in the Fall, we pause to appreciate the blessings of the fields and the time of plenty to come.

 

To show faith in the Divine, a small loaf (made from the green wheat) would be baked, and eaten at a family meal. (Just small bites. Unripe wheat makes terrible bread). In Christian times, such a loaf would be taken to the Church to be blessed. Yet in modern times, with flour available at the local store, ritual loaves of regular bread are often used. This bread – green or otherwise – can be utilized magically. For instance, four pieces can be broken off and placed in the four corners of your barn to protect your animals.

Lammas was also a time when fairs were held, bargains made, agreements for the sale of crops could take place, and promises of marriage arranged. In a Wiccan household of today, there would be the casting of a Circle, the telling of the old myths regarding the Tuatha De Danann, a ritual meal prepared, and the blessing of cakes and ale. Yeah – not gonna happen. I'm too lame, too tired, and too old to be hopping around in a black hooded robe, trying to neither step on the Rufus or set myself on fire. How come, when you make it to Crone, you need more “adult supervision” than you did at twelve?



("Did she say, 'Step on Rufus?'")

Anyway, enjoy what's left of the Summer. Personally, I can't wait for the color and crisp coolness of Fall. I really rock the Autumnal Equinox. Me and my walker actually probably “roll” the Equinox, but I'll manage!

The book signing: The book signing at Mystickal Tymes is Saturday, August 9^th, from 2pm to 5pm, or longer if the place is jumping. Free “swag bags” for everyone who comes by, and even a stress owl for those who buy a book! (While supply lasts).

No, not a stressed owl...

a stress owl...

Hope to see a lot of you there!

A happy first harvest, and the blessings of the Earth and Sun to you all!

The Cover

We all know the old saying, “You can't judge a book by it's cover.” I suggest that the statement be taken a step farther. You can't judge a book by it's PR, either.

Ever since becoming disabled, I have entertained myself by plunging deeply into a sea of books. We have an excellent library here in Monroe Township, and a staff that can suggest great authors based on my reading patterns. I've been reading so much, I've started keeping a summary log.

Of course, some books I stumble upon on my own, based on summaries, reviews, etc. One in particular promised to be a story about a sidhe princess who was in hiding in the human world. She knew her aunt, the queen, wished her death, so for three years she managed to live in L.A., working for a detective agency. This agency only took supernatural cases. The result of one case ended up “outing” her to humans and sidhe alike. What results is an interesting journey, yadda, yadda, yadda.

Now, at my age, I've read, seen, and/or done enough in the realm of sexuality to be able to express a mumbled “meh” when it comes to procreation, passion, and porn in literature. Give me that other “p” word...NO, not that one!...PLOT! Once I finished with the incomplete story of the sidhe princess (there is a follow-up book. Oh, joy! Oh, rapture!), I didn't feel as though I read a fantasy novel. Nope. I just finished “50 Shades of Fae”. It was a journey I hadn't planned on taking.

Now, this “book by it's cover” thing extends way beyond the written word. For instance, I was trying to look up “Satanic Images” using Google. I got the usual suspects. This, for instance:

and this:

A whole lot of stuff like this:

This came up. I don't even want to know:

And, finally, this:

...At which point I said, “Hey, goat, hold it!”

(Little Rascals reference...never mind...)

 

This is the “Goat of Mendes” as drawn by Eliphas Levi. This is NOT a Satanic symbol. The goat has a pentagram on his forehead with the point upward – a symbol of light. One arm points up towards the white moon, Cesed. The other points downward to the dark moon of Geburah. This shows not only the balance of yin and yang, but also the balance of mercy and justice. One arm is male, the other – female.

The torch of intelligence shines between his horns, themselves symbols of the waxing and waning of the moon and energy. The rod taking the place of his genitals is the staff of Hermes, or the caduceus of Mercury. It brings healing and vitality to the body and spirit.

The body is covered, in part, by scales, representing Water. The wings are the element Air. Naturally the torch is Fire, and the half-globe upon which the goat sits is Earth. The chest of the goat also shows the representation of mankind: one breast is male, the other female.

In total, the Goat of Mendes is a symbol of balance, vitality, intellect, justice and mercy. It was only when the Church of Satan chose this as their logo...

that the Goat started to be identified as the Devil. (also note the INVERTED pentagram. How many of us have spent time explaining that Our star and THEIR star aren't the SAME stars?)

My point to all this is a simple one: There is a lot of misleading info out there. It could be the PR on a book or movie, the politics of the day, or the information on the Craft that's gleaned from the Internet. Be aware. Look harder. Don't just jump the band wagon and grab a piccolo..find out for yourself.

I'm thinking of teaching the Craft again. If I do, I want students that have developed the skill to dig deeper, and with an independent mind. That's something we should all be doing, every day. Always.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch... things are going along fairly well. I turned 60 on July 1^st. My friend Ellen organized a surprise birthday party...and it didn't suck! I have lived in fear of surprise parties. I've had two others in my life, neither of which went very well, but this was grand! Thanks Ellen, family and friends for all the good wishes.

For myself, I got a new color and cut. Now I look like The Great Pumpkin with a better doo...

I won't see my Cancer Clinic until August 12, so fingers still crossed, but I did have my foot surgeon punch my ticket. Ankle needs an x-ray, but he thinks everything is OK. My legs may never get better, but they aren't any worse, so I count my blessings.

There is one change to announce: The book signing set for July 26^th has to be moved to August. I'll post on this blog when we have a new date.

Finally, some Sherlock news. Filming will start in Jan 2015 for a one-off Xmas special to air December 2015. Filming for the 4^th Season (yeah!) will commence sometime mid-year, and be shown 2016. Yeah, I know, but meanwhile, there is plenty of fan art, music, and parodies to keep you all going. Like THIS one, for instance:

 

Enjoy July, folks. The Summer appears to be on roller skates this year!

 

Looking Out The Window

“I am half sick of shadows,” said the Lady of Shalott.

Are you familiar with the Tennyson poem? The Lady is kept prisoner in a gray, towered castle on the isle of Shalott. The waters surrounding it stream past and downward to Camelot. She is aware that there is a curse upon her, but not sure of its nature. All she knows is that she must sit at her loom and weave the images she sees in the mirror, reflecting the scenes out her window.

In her mirror, life passes along the road - knights, maids, processions - but the visions that disturb her the most are the lovers who pass by starlight and the funerals that pass by day. This causes her weary statement, “I am half sick of shadows.”

It is only when Lancelot passes by that she looks directly at him through her window, and down towards the town. The tapestry flies from its loom, the mirror cracks in two, and the lady knows the curse is come. She finds a boat, writes her name upon it, and floats towards Camelot, dying before she  reaches the palace.

In less than a year, I have lost three friends:

Lady Olivia Robertson,

 

 

Judy Harrow,

 

 and now my old friend, Joe Scolarice.

 

 

I am battling Cancer, along with my brother-in-law and a friend or two. Others are fighting against illness and chronic pain. I, too, am half sick of shadows.

It is too easy to stay tucked away, “safe” within towered walls, seeing the world only through other eyes and venues...

But that's not living.

Despite the fear of our own mortality, we have to see, comprehend, and marvel at the colors and pageantry of life for ourselves, even if it's risky, even if death walks alongside of life, even if we never feel safe again.

So, in honor of Olivia, and Judy, and Joe, I'll keep fighting on, doing what I must and appreciating the gift of each new day and experience. Anything less is not living.

Radiation treatments are done. I am recovering from burns, digestive issues, nausea, and extreme fatigue.

 

 

  It IS getting better. I return to the hospital on June 24^th. I don't know what they're planning, but it better not be anything too invasive. I need to heal.

To that end, I've been fighting the fatigue by writing. Finally, finally, finally the Hall-Mills Murders story is done and submitted with photos. Best yet, my publisher thinks the story is creepy. Well...yeah! It should appear in the next issue of FATE or the one after. 

                                                   (From "Lover's Lane")

 

I still have more writing projects, a manuscript to start and one to revise...as well as an old project with a partner. I shouldn't be bored.

I'm starting to prepare for the next Para-X. I like to start early so I can set out all my plans. Then, I can take action once Mercury is out of Retrograde.

I am also scheduled to do a book signing on July 26^th, Mystickal Tymes, New Hope PA. I'll have free issues of FATE Magazine, plus books, Graven Images Oracle decks, pouches, and a few other surprises. Claude will be my Gal Friday for the event. The store is busting with new things! So come, shop, buy, and have fun with us. I'll post the hours when we get closer to the date.

 

 

The other things that help me heal and thrive are my love of Sherlock, combined with my passion for parody. I've found one wonderful YouTube clip that appeals to my Old English Teacher mind set. In fact, it's called... “Grammar Nazi” !

There is also a wonderful summary of Sherlock seasons 1 & 2, done with puppets...

And finally, the parody I've prayed for: Sherlock and Blue's Clues.

 

In the fight for happiness and joy, humor is a serious weapon. Our day will also come but, until then, find purpose, find allies, find laughter and creativity. Take the battlefield. The game is on!

What Dreams May Come

These last three weeks have been hard. My Cancer treatment is Monday though Friday, for 6 weeks. I am now at the end of my third week.

Before I get into the experience, there are folks who need to be acknowledged. They are the ones who make sure I get to those sessions everyday, and on time:

 

My brother Jim – who signed up to take me on Tuesdays, despite having a killer workload, and new people in his office.

My sister Jane – who is already babysitting our grand-nephews, and has to come all the way from New Hope, PA to chauffeur me 11 miles to the hospital.

My anam cara Claude – who has her own doctor appointments to keep, as well as those of her husband, Jack.

My Reike teacher and friend Bob – who drives, does energy work, fixes knee walkers and rescues me from various household duties.

My pal Stephanie – who pitches in on other appointments and walks my bunny boy Rufus.

My former hubby Gary – who agreed to take care of my car and use it to assist with the radiation sessions. He has to come from Asbury Park to do so.

 

Thanks, also, to those who have been sending distant healing, good thoughts and prayers. They are all greatly appreciated.

The treatment journey began 3 weeks ago. I was nervous to start radiation. I must have been VERY nervous because I got a phone call that Monday telling me to stay home – the machine was broken. I mentally pulled an Urkle; “Did I do that?”

It was a remote possibility. My mother, me, my nephew (and who knows what other relatives) manifest anger and fear, depression and worry, by blowing things up. Mum use to blow up light bulbs., She also produced pounding noises in distant rooms. The nephew has fried an electronic device or two. I usually exploded streetlights and such, but also blew the circuits in a friend's house when I got very passionate about the topic we were discussing. (I also once deliberately blew out the lights in a room to scare a friend who was getting snippy with me. That'll learn her.)

The next day, Tuesday, I had treatment. The machine broke down, but re-started in time for my session. Wednesday, not as lucky. Had to come in the afternoon because the machine, again, was toast that morning.

I meet with the doctor every Monday. The next week, I asked if it was typical for the equipment to malfunction like this. He advised that the machine had never done this before. They had to replace the power lines to the hospital, replace the electronics for the machine itself, and it had to be calibrated.

I felt very guilty.

It hasn't happened since.

Sorry, Old Sparky. Not your fault.

(A new doctor heard me call the radiation machine by this nick name, and proceeded to pass it around the entire staff. I told him, “Don't forget to quote me.”  Hey, you're a doctor. You can afford your own material).

The fourth week is when some of the nastier side effects kick in. (Oh Joy! Oh Rapture!) However, I currently do have one of the most common ones – fatigue.

People speak about being in the arms of Morpheus, the god of sleep and dreams. What folks don't realize is that the cool looking dude, with the black wings, is actually wearing a near-human disguise. He is, in reality, a daemon (no, not demon), a force of nature. Yes, he can bring sleep and dreams, but he can also provide stupor, coma, and extreme fatigue. The last has been his gift to me.

 

 I am tired from getting up early, getting dressed, making it to the car, through the hospital, into treatment, and back again. (I injured my right arm, which is in constant pain, but I need it to hold the regular walker and the knee walker. This is also exhausting.) Add to this the over-all perception of heavy limbs and the sense of swirling around the rim of unconsciousness, and you can see why Facebook, e-mails, and the like have recently been ignored. Sorry, all. It will get better.

 

In the interim, I have kept spirits up by enjoying the Sherlock fandom. I treated myself to a pair of character dolls. I also had Sherlock and John key chain figures, which I repurposed. Here are my buddies, with THEIR buddies.

I have also found two wonderful parodies on line and have included them below:

 

 

 

(I just found out that there is a part 2 to the above parody. I will post that next time.)

I am also looking forward to doing some revision work on a manuscript that Natalie Zaman and I wrote a while back, and producing a few articles for magazines. I have to keep myself awake and productive. I may be feeling this way for awhile.

So, fingers crossed, forgive the periods of silence, (not truly silence; I'm sure I'm snoring), and it's onward through the fogggg...zzzzzzzzzz....