Those Were The Days

A new year usually results in resolutions. This practice actually dates back thousands of decades. It didn't matter when the new year was set to begin, be it October 31 for the Celts, or in March and the beginning of the planting season for Rome, when the calendar began anew rituals were observed.

It was a time for paying off debts and making amends. The new year was to be successful, and so offerings were made to Janus, the two faced God. No, he wasn't gossiping behind his followers' backs, he literally had two faces, one looking back and one looking forward. January is named for him.

This concept was so well know, even the Irish have their own version.

 

Two versions of Janus-like Irish statues

So, before I talk about my goal going forward, I'd like to take a look back at my family, in all their unique characteristics.

On my mother's side, I am a product of Ireland. My grandfather's people raised racing ponies for the English and, in this way, lasted through the famine into the early 20^th century. Some family went to England. My grandfather worked there for 8 years in order to make passage to America. Eventually he brought over his younger sisters, and he became one of the countless Irish to work the railroads until his death. He met my grandmother in New Brunswick, NJ. She was a “Bridget” for the Johnson family (as in Johnson & Johnson). When my mother was born, they gave her a cradle. The family still has it.

Grandmom came from Crossmaglen, County Armagh...Bandit country. Her cousin fought in the original IRA, and there is a memorial over his grave, in Irish, erected by the people of America.

St. Patrick's, Crossmaglen

Mom married Dad, a divorced protestant with three children. THAT''s a whole 'nother story. Dad wasn't into his heritage, but it was both illustrious and diverse. On Nana's side, the original family name was Scott. We are descendant from the first Earl of Buccleuch.

Here is a painting of the 3rd Duke. I don't see a family resemblance. I told Claude; she laughed at me. He had ginger hair and a dog...so?

Per legend (and the writings of another relative, Sir Walter Scott) John Scott (the 1^st Earl) followed the king's royal hunt. The king chased a deer down a ravine. John went down, broke the deer's neck with his bare hands, and dragged it up to the king. Per the poem:

"The King did wash into a dish 
And Galloway John he wot; 
He said "Thy name now after this 
Shall ever be called John Scott." 


"And for the buck thou stoutly brought 
To us up that steep heugh 
Thy designation ever shall 
Be John Scott in Buckscleugh." 

(“Heugh” is a hill, and “leugh” is a ravine. 

“Bucksleugh”, or “Buccleuch” as it's become, 
 loosely means “deer ditch”. Could be worse.)

The Buccleuch coat of arms

Some Buccleuchs went with Mary Queen of Scots to France, in 1558, where she married Francis, and some got involved in Dutch politics. From there, they came to the New World. One ancestor, Peter Buccleuch, is considered the father of Staten Island. Some were sheriffs in Perth Amboy, or wealthy land owners in North Brunswick. One fought in the Revolution (yes, I am a DAR member) and another – James Buccleuch – had a town named for him: Jamesburg.

On the other side of the family we have Carsons and Thompsons. Kit Carson is a cousin.

  So is a little lady known as Levinia Warren. She worked for P.T. Barnum and eventually married General Tom Thumb. Lincoln gave them a reception at the White House. 

A Thompson relative married Barnum's oldest daughter. When the circus came to town, everyone got free tickets! (No, it doesn't happen now – don't ask me.) ...And my great-grandfather Frederick Thompson was called “The Radish King”. He developed Thompson radishes.

The Burke family gave birth to the tall man of the Monmouth Circus, and the Meseroles came from France on the “Spotted Cow” in the 1600s and settled in Brooklyn. Streets are still named for them. Also on that side of the family there are many wealthy Dutch. Of the 9 or so founding families of New Amsterdam, I am directly descendant from 8 of them. And finally, through the Burke line, I am the several times great granddaughter of a Lenape Shaman. His daughter fell in love with a white man, who “kidnapped” and married her. She adopted the Burke name thereafter.

So, there it is in a nutshell...and I do mean nuts. All of the above, plus around $5.00, will get me a peppermint mocha frappuccino light blended at Starbucks.

Yummm....better than genealogy

My point is this: I have lots of weird people behind me. Circus acts, pioneers, Indians, landed gentry, patriots and Irish freedom fighters, and parents who defied their families and deep rooted prejudices to go get married. (Only death separated them for a brief while). One thing they all had in common – they were their unique selves. They were bold. They were courageous.

  A 19-year-old setting off alone from Northern Ireland, a little person wanting to sing so badly she joined a circus, a tribal woman willing to marry a white man for love...a catholic marrying a divorced protestant. One of my Dutch ancestors in New Amsterdam was a strong willed woman who owned her own property on Brewers Street in Manhattan (unheard of!). She was so sick of the water rising to her front steps causing mud, she paid to have stones put down along the whole street. It became known as “Stone Street” and is an historic district to this day.

  All of them were true to themselves. They were bold and took a chance, promoted by their inner voice. I can do no less. So no matter what the barrier or the infirmity, the disability or the nay sayers, I'm going to work towards my dreams this year. That means more writing and teaching, but also trying something new. I'll let you know how it goes as we all move through 2013.

And, oh yeah, loose weight, improve my diet, exercise, watch my finances...yes siblings, I haven't forgotten. (sigh).

Happy New Year, everyone. Health and Blessings to you all.

Janus, we lay our flowers at your feet.

I Saw Mummy Kissing....well...

Dear Apocalypse: You missed us, you missed us, neener neener neener!

I didn't get my hair done for nothing!

 

 I KNEW Mayans were extinct for a reason!

Anyway...On to mistletoe.

Mistletoe is an amazing little plant. It can exist on it's own, but is more likely to be found as a parasite, living on a host tree. Because it draws its nutrients from its host, it also absorbs the magical properties from the tree. It is no surprise that mistletoe growing on the sacred oak would be the most magical and powerful of all. It is a plant associated with the sun, as it is green with berries even as the host tree is bear of leaf. It is the symbol of the rebirth of the sun at Yuletide. It was associated with Taranis, a sun deity, and the white berries are formed from his sperm. (OK, so there is an obvious fertility aspect to the mistletoe which has lead to current customs.)

Mistletoe was considered a protection against fire, lightning, and cured poison (even though the berries, themselves, are poisonous. Keep away from pets and children, weird spouses and peculiar significant others...you know who you are...) It was called “all heal” in Medieval Times (Applebees, Olive Garden..sorry, bad restaurant joke.)

If you hung a sprig in the barn, or a sprig over a baby's crib (minus berries, I hope) it warded off fairies. If a sprig was anywhere in the house, love would dwell within. It gave rise to the English superstition that if a single person was not kissed under the mistletoe at Solstice (or Yuletide) they would remain unmarried for the coming year. I guess it inspired this Sherlock fan art I found on Tumblr.

 

 

 

 

 

Druids were said to harvest the mistletoe by cutting it with a gold blade and catching it in a white sheet of linen. It was not to touch the ground. As it grew on the oak, and not from the soil, touching earth would ground all its powers.

 

 

  As a thank-you to the gods for this magical gift, one or two white bulls would be sacrificed. This is interesting because it may hearken back to Mithra. We do know that the Romans had a rite of purification called the Taurabolium. In this rite, a white bull was sacrificed, held over the heads of the faithful (or they passed under it via a pit) and the blood was allowed to drip upon the believers and thus “cleanse” them. This rite has been associated with Mithra by many (and the time of year would correspond with the date of his birth, as I explained in a prior post), but some claim this is a misunderstanding. You can draw your own conclusion.

In Victorian times, the mistletoe was hung in the doorway as a round clump called a “kissing ball”. Sprig or ball, the same custom applies. According to some, when a couple kiss under the mistletoe, a berry should be removed. When there are no more berries, there can be no more kisses. So if you see a bare kissing ball, move off to another to get lucky. All the kisses have been taken (or else the hostess is plotting to spike the cider with a merry dose of death...sorry. Sherlock overload.)

If you think no one cares abut the mistletoe in this day and age, please see the following video. It's slow starting. It also proves that the Brits – gods bless em – have no native sense of rhythm. See the dance at the end, for example. Riverdance it ain't.. but they love their mistletoe.

 

As for me.. I've been unattached for too many years. This time, I am taking no chances.

I think 2012 has seriously screwed with my mind (sigh). Gary wouldn't come anywhere near me until I took the damn thing off.

Have a happy, everyone!

 

Here Comes Shaman Claus

This...

Is “amanita muscaria” or “fly agaric”. It is bright and festive, and highly hallucinogenic. In fact, it puts the “fun” in fungus. BUT.. what is it doing hanging on a pine tree next to an image of Santa Claus? You might be surprised.

 

You see, these special mushrooms grow under pine trees.

 

 

 Siberian shamans collect them, wearing the colors of the mushroom – red and white.

Once collected, they return to their yurt (a circular tent with a smoke opening in the top), climb in through the smoke hole with their sack of 'srooms, and proceed to string them for hanging. When they are dried, they are ready for consumption. AND... they aren't the only ones who eat these mushrooms. Have a look at this clip from the BBC:

 

No wonder the green of the pine tree, and the red and white of the mushrooms, have become the colors of Xmas, and other red and white decorations – from satin balls to candy canes – follow suite.

Next time: mistletoe.

I saw my surgeon on Monday. Good news! It will still take quite a long time to recover, but so far I have dodged the bullet. He thinks my foot has come along fine, and that I don't have to report back for 6 months. I can't do any marathon shopping or walking – in fact, I should use a scooter or wheelchair when ever possible, but I should be able to progress from walker to cane in time. He also wants me to do gastric bypass. No. Absolutely not. I would consider Lap-Band, but will consult with my primary physician this Spring. Gastric bypass scares the bejesus out of me. I've had enough thrills and chills for a while.

So, my prediction has come true. I said my foot would recover enough for me to “run” from the world holocaust with the rest of you. Perhaps I won't have to worry about the Lap-Band after all.

Until next time, enjoy the holidays. Here's a nice little video celebrating the fly agaric in music and pictures.

Tick Tick Tick...

The Yuletide season is upon us. If certain prophesies are true, this should be a Yule for the ages, the last grand Circle before the lights go out for good. Yes, here comes Armageddon. However, should we all awaken on the morning of the 22^nd, and find that the world hasn't been “Arma-got-done”, festivities will resume as planned.

I thought it would be nice, over the next few weeks, to talk about some of the traditions associated with the celebrations and trappings of this “most wonderful time of the year”. Let's start with the date of Xmas itself: December 25^th.

Those of a Pagan persuasion know that the Winter Solstice (around Dec 21st) or Yule marks the shortest day of the year. This is a time when darkness seems to be conquering the light. Magic was done and rites performed to assure that the sun would rise in the morning – a sign that the light had been re-born. (All the more reason, this year, to burn those premium peppermint striped candles you've been saving for a “special” Yule!)

Christmas is celebrated only a few days later. Most folks do realize that no shepherds were watching any flocks on the hillsides in December. The most likely time of the birth of Jesus of Nazareth is March or April. What we did have on December 25^th was the birth of a god named Mithra. Roman soldiers brought the belief in Mirtha back to their homeland from their billets in Eastern lands. Mirtha appealed to soldiers because he was a warrior himself, come to earth to establish his kingdom. In the case of Mithra, this was conceived of as an actual kingdom, not the spiritual “kingdom of God” professed by Jesus.

"Mithra or Mitra is...worshiped as Itu (Mitra-Mitu-Itu) in every house of the Hindus in India. Itu (derivative of Mitu or Mitra) is considered as the Vegetation-deity. This Mithra or Mitra (Sun-God) is believed to be a Mediator between God and man, between the Sky and the Earth. It is said that Mithra or [the] Sun took birth in the Cave on December 25th. It is also the belief of the Christian world that Mithra or the Sun-God was born of [a] Virgin. He traveled far and wide. He has twelve satellites, which are taken as the Sun's disciples.... [The Sun's] great festivals are observed in the Winter Solstice and the Vernal Equinox—Christmas and Easter. His symbol is the Lamb...." Swami Prajnanananda, Christ the Saviour and Christ Myth

Obviously, there are many points of similarity between the Mithra and Jesus back stories.

The belief flourished, and almost eclipsed the new Christian faith, except for one incredible event – the fall of Rome. With the disintegration of the Empire went the power of the Roman Legion. However, there are always elements of the Pagan which can not be eradicated from the Christian. Obviously the date of the birth of Christ is one of them.

We should not forget that the Roman celebration of the Saturnalia takes place during this period (usually December 17^th to the 23^rd). During this time, the statue of Saturn was filled with olive oil (he was a god of vegetation) and his feet – usually bound with wood – were freed. There was a public sacrifice at the temple, the giving of gifts (even gag gifts!) and decorating with wreaths and garlands. The Lord of Misrule was in evidence (and survives as an English Christmas custom. This is a person selected to preside over the feasting).

Now THAT'S an office party!

Taking December 25^th and making it Christian, and absorbing many other Pagan traditions along the way, makes the Church's observance of Xmas suspect. To misquote Dickens, there is more of gravy than Holy Ghost about it.

Next time: Mushrooms and Xmas trees.

As for me, I'm just happy to be home and able to celebrate with my family. It was December 18^th last year when I ended up in hospital, struggling to survive sepsis and facing multiple surgeries. I am starting to walk with a shoe and brace, but I'm taking it slow until after the holidays. If the ankle is going to break down (which means amputation) I'm making sure it is after the holidays. I just want to have a happy memory. I will be seeing my surgeon on Dec 10^th, so hopefully the news is good and I can relax a bit.

Rufus is getting accustomed to being home again. I think I've convinced him to stop marking and use his papers. (Today was a good day.) We even had our Holiday picture taken. Claude was the photographer.

My article “The Tie That Binds” was published last week as a special on-line article for Sage Woman subscribers. My blog activity really picked up after that. Welcome, new readers! Feel free to comment.

Finally, for the Sherlock Fans, filming of Season 3 has been pushed back until March. Benedict and Martin are so busy these days that other commitments have caused the delay. Good for them, crappy for us. So, for the time being, Sherlock is still “dead”. But remember what happened last time. You just can't kill Sherlock Holmes.

One final thing: My dear friend, Goldie, was kind enough to read my Sherlock manuscript. In my story, both he and his sister play the Moonlight Sonata on the violin. Goldie pointed out that it was usually done as a piano piece. I advised her to try and hear strings playing it. Well, this isn't the best example but, below, is a string quartet doing the Sonata. Enjoy!

 

Gobble Gobble

Its still Thanksgiving weekend, so I suppose there is time remaining to do the traditional, let's avoid the corny, listing of the things for which I give thanks:

My siblings, who worked miracles for me this past year. They continue to exhibit their love by their periodic Inquisition, making sure I don't slip back down into the Slough of Despond...or the bargain basement of Macy's.

 

Dr. Siegel, who was willing to take one more chance to save my leg. I know the jury is still out, but amputation would have been a fait accompli without you. And yes, I will joint your Facebook group if I can ever find it.

Keith, who has always been by my side and who always has my back. I don't deserve a nephew like you. I guess you get to burn off a lot of Karma with me around!

My Anam Cara Claude. I love you and can't picture life without you. (Breathe folks, it's platonic.)

My other friends, including the former hubby, who helped me alone the way to recovery.

Debbie, who adopted Rufus while Mama was sick.

The Old Ones, for allowing me the strength to fight on, and all those who kept me in their thoughts and prayers. The trip's not over yet, but I can see the shore.

Thanksgiving was spent at my sister Diane's, with lots of food and a nice peaceful atmosphere. The only thing I missed, from my perch in the solarium, was the opportunity to watch TV. I had no idea how to turn it on. When my brother-in-law wasn't looking, Keith and I pulled out all the remotes to see if any of them would do the trick. It quickly became obvious that any attempt to touch a controller could result in a range of effect, from dimming the lights to nuclear assault.

            There are 16 remotes in this picture. There were more in other rooms.

In fact, Keith and I noticed that it was a rather techno-holiday. The 4 and 9 year old nephews were playing games on their father's I-Phone ( In one case, it had something to do with Stupid Zombies? I don't know. The child can speak as fast as he can type...and that's the 4 year old). Gary was uploading his photos of Jersey shore Sandy destruction, one sister was printing out holiday snaps while the other was pleased with her led lit canvas paintings. One was a church scene with candles in the windows...and they really flickered.

Keith was not approving, trying to put forward the case that the value of art should not be dependent upon batteries. However, there is no male argument that can win out over a woman's perspective of “..But it's pretty!”...and that was ME.

                                         I'm buying this one. Fie on detractors!

I also managed to have a few pictures taken with Gary and Keith, as well as a new one of me which I will use for PR going forward. There were more, but they were on my sister's camera. She doesn't e-mail them very well. They end up huge and unprintable.

 

So it goes. I was able to get to Diane's by using my shoe and brace. I'm trying to use them 2 hours a day. I was finally able to leave my home via the front door!

For the Sherlock fans...I still haven't decided exactly what the three clue words “Rat, Wedding, Bow” really mean, but I did see that filming of Sherlock Season 3 will begin in January.

Borrowed from on-line fan art

I also found a great video that captures the Sherlock personality. See below for a little fun.

Hope you all had a happy and safe holiday. I'll keep posting right up till Yule. If the Mayans are right, it will be my show finale. If not, we'll go onward through the fog into 2013. It would be just my luck, however, to finally be able to walk only to have to out pace global destruction. Run, Forrest, run indeed.

P.S. Good news! I was just informed that my article “The Tie That Binds” will be published Tuesday as the Sage Woman on-line bonus feature, complete with three of my altar pictures. Gee! The world really MUST be ending, I've been waiting for this to come out for two years. Thanks, Anne!

One for the Books

Apologies for the delay.  I couldn't get to my computer for a while.  We had a little storm named Sandy whip through, and it basically disrupted power, water, ability to find food and gas for almost everyone in the beautiful Garden State.  I was without power from Monday evening, October 29th, until November 7th.  I was lucky enough to stay with a friend who had power restored on Halloween. I had it better than most.

As lights came back on all around us, our little village of retired folks were forced to endure. All of our units are electric, so we didn't even have gas stoves upon which to warm things up.  The Clubhouse was finally opened during the day, where hot drinks were served.  I'm told the Red Cross also came through with soup.  The Anam Cara and hubby stuck it out the entire time. I lost about $340 in food. At first we were told FEMA would reimburse us up to $300. It was a lie.  Why must people poke sticks at us while we're down? It's not kind to spread rumors.

I was no sooner delivered to my doorstep when the snow started to fall.  Yep, snow. Just what my friends down the shore and my sister in the hills near Lambertville needed.  These folks STILL have no power. They were running on generators, but now "people" are stealing them. New Jersians are a tough but caring lot.  We're strong; we band together and help each other.  But every society has its sub-humans. Shame on those who would rip off a family's only source of heat for the almighty buck.  Evolve! Catch up, damn it!

A special thank you to all those crews from across the lower 48 who came to help, and the everyday folks who packed up supplies and drove out here to help relieve the shore.  I also need to mention the crews from Canada who heeded the call.  It's always Canada who comes to help the USA.  Right now, they're outside my sister's house, trying to get the lights back on.  

 Good Canucks. Thanks. Stay for tea.

My former hubby lives in Asbury Park.  He went out after the storm and took a bunch of photos.  Here's a few a la Gary Niall.


Boardwalk Damage

Destroyed Property

Ditto

Typical

The Stone Pony is now beach front.      


                                                                                                                                                                                                                  
 

I'm particularly upset about the Seaside Heights area.  All my Summer vacations down the shore were spent on the amusement park. Dad couldn't resist slapping down quarters at the wheels, trying to win us stuffed animals.  Diane and I ended our day on the rides.  A day at the shore was pure joy. (Photos are from ABC News.)

And now, it is reduced to this:

I don't have any words for the sadness. It obviously pales in comparison to property loss and suffering, but it's another little bright touch of my childhood which is gone forever.

I never did get to celebrate Samhain OR Halloween, so...here we go!

At least brooms don't need gas!

My final selection for haunted classical music is the Danse Macabre by Camille Saint-Saen.

Hope there is fair weather ahead.  Be well, everybody!