Sandy Wright's Blog, page 20

Happy Birthday Harry

Happy Birthday, J.K. Rowling and Harry Potter! The author of the beloved fantasy novel series turns the big 5-0 on July 31. She shares her birthday with her most famous character, The Boy Who Lived.

In our housek and in a million others around the world, Harry Potter was simply magic. My 9-year-old son hated to go to bed. Then I heard about a captivating new children's book by an unknown British author. I hit upon the idea to read to him, which I hadn't done since he began school. Aw, Mom! By the end of the first chapter, he was hooked, and so was I. The rule was: No reading ahead. We had to read it together (Dad was in bed with us every evening by chapter 3.
We devoured each book. My son's creative writing improved, his vocabulary increased, he aced his SATs and went off to college. Thank you J.K.!

Of course, we all now know how this story goes: J.K. Rowling's wizard grew into a worldwide phenomenon with 450 million books sold, $7.7 billion world-wide movie gross, a theme park on two continents, and a formerly destitute single mom author whose net worth now is a billion dollars US.

But it all started with The Sorcerer's Stone that first book Rowling spent six long years writing longhand at her neighborhood coffee shop while her baby daughter napped. As an author, I admire her determination and stamina. Six years is a long time to perservere on a single writing project. I'm sure she became discouraged. However, she could keep herself engaged by writing snippets of upcoming books in the series. She says she knew every bit of the plot before she started writing. That's amazing!

So to honor J.K. and Harry's birthdays, I've put together this list of my favorite book quotes:
1. "I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to brew glory and bottle fame, and even put a stopper in death." ~ Professor Severus Snape,
The Sorcerer's Stone.
Oh, Professor, how I love thee. Your character hooked me from the start, as did Alan Rickman, your screen persona.

2. "It is our choices, Harry, that show what we are, far more than our abilities." ~ Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, The Sorcerer's Stone.

3. "To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure." ~ Albus Dumbledore, The Sorcerer's Stone.

4. "Well, it's just that you seem to be laboring under the delusion that I am going to--what is the phrase?--come quietly. I am not going to come quietly at all, Cornelius." ~
Albus Dumbledore, Order of the Phoenix.
Dumbledore is my other favorite character. Deep thinker, but with a wicked sense of humor. Caring but ruthless. Just before the sixth movie came out, J.K. revealed Dumbledore was gay. "I read a script for the sixth film," she said, "and they had a Dumbledore line to Harry saying, "I knew a girl once, whose hair..." (laughter)." I had to write a little note in the margin and slide it to the scriptwriter."
She was asked if Dumbledore was ever truly in love, and she said yes, he loved Gellert Grindelwald. Their partnership fell apart afer the two were involved in a three-way duel with Aberforth Dumnbledore that resulted in sister Ariana Dumbledore's death.

5. "I've already read chapter two," said Hermoine.
"Well then, proceed to chapter three."
"I've read that too. I've read the whole book." ~ Hermoine Grainger, Order of the Phoenix.
Hermoine, the little know-it-all with the big heart. Rowling says there is a bit of Hermoine in her. I'd like to think there's a bit of her in all of us.

6. Flitwick: "You do realize we can't keep out You-Know-Who indefinitely.
Minerva McGonagall: "That doesn't mean we can't delay him. And his name is Voltemort. You might as well use it, he's going to try and kill you either way." ~ The Deathly Hallows.
Much like seeing Yoda grad a light sabre and fight in the Star Wars prequel, seeing Professor McGonagall take a stand to defend Hogwarts, and faceoff agains Snape, was a big, badass moment. And it made Snape extremely uncomfortable, always a good scene.

7. "The origin of Avada Kedavra? It's an ancient spell in Aramic, and the origin of abracadabra, which means, 'let the thing be destroyed.'" ~ J.K. Rowling, answering audience questions during a reading of The Half-Blood Prince.
See, that's why I love this series. She was a meticulous researcher, and everything has a historical or mythological root.

8. "You have to be careful if you get friendly with me, because you tend to turn up in my books. If you offend me, your character is often nasty." ~ J.K. Rowling interview.

Joanne, I'm willing to take my chances and would love to know you personally. In the meantime, happy birthday to you and Harry.

The Between Places

This weekend I trekked to the V Bar V Ranch for Summer Solstice.  This little-known site, in the Verde Valley near Sedona, is one of the largest  and best preserved petroglyphs in Arizona. 
 
But I go specifically on the morning of the longest day of the  year. 

The sun rises over the top of the rock wall, and an annual  miracle occurs. Bands of light pass between two rocks and illuminate specific  points in the figures permanently etched in the stone. The petroglyph art is  positioned so that when the sunlight hits a specific line carved in the rock, it  coincides with the start of the planting season. For the Sinagua Indians living  in this arid land nearly a thousand years ago, this was their  calendar.

  The growing season  was tricky. Plant too soon and the corn crop would shrivel and dry before the  monsoons. Plant too late and the kernels would not have time to  ripen.

 Timing was everything.

 My visit to V Bar V on the day of equal light and dark reminds  me to keep a balance in my own life. To resist wasting my time auditioning for  others: parents, teachers, employers, lovers, strangers, and friends. To stay  true to myself and to Nature.

 I yearn to balance dark and light, the way the earth balances  day and night. The shadow has its reasons and seasons, and brings us important  lessons to learn. We must know when we are way out of balance, have had enough,  are stagnated, or need emotional rescue of a practical nature. 
 
Maybe you are oriented on your path by a set of rules you didn’t  make. Or maybe you coast along because it’s so difficult to change course,  regardless of what strongly held beliefs that course is  violating.

 Can you can recall a moment when you stood at a crossroads, a  point where opposites met and a choice was required: dark or light, joy or  sorrow, right or wrong, be silent or speak out. Fight or flee. Do--or don’t do. 
 
According to Goddess Mother Nature, we are now standing at one  of those crossroads. Next week, the world will literally begin filling with  darkness, as the wheel turns toward winter. Today we stand at the world’s still  center and survey which path to choose.

  The Sinaguas had their map, revealed to them at the proper  time. Like the ancients, I don’t look for paths, they will seek me out. That’s  what is so exhilarating about these in-between days. They are the creative nexus  at which vision and craft come together. 
 
Feel your power! Create. Let your poetry, song, art, new love or  inspiration uncoil from its hidden domain and fill your core. 
 
The between places are not horrible or frightening. They are  thresholds for awakening, if the soul is alert and watchful for omens of change. 
 
And yes, timing is important.

 So look in the mirror. Meet the eyes you see there directly,  because they belong to the only person in this world you can truly change.   Be attentive to the thresholds and boundaries of your life—the places where  metamorphosis occurs—and find the lines you should erase and  re-draw.

 How will you transform in the remaining  year?


 

Mother's Letter to Her Son, Soon to be a Father

       A young friend of mine had a devastating and sudden death in her family this time last year, her father. On top of the staggering grief, she also mourned that he left her before they could say everything that needed to be said between them. She had so many unanswered questions, so many hurts unhealed. There just wasn’t time.

       It’s a common lament. My own parents have been gone for years, yet I still think of things we didn’t discuss. Why she stayed with my father while his eye wandered to cowgirls, and how she finally regained his attention. How proud she would be of her grandson. As for Dad, I’d like to ask him how he trained all of his dogs to freeze in place with one short command, when I can’t stop my Australian Sheppard from running across the street to jump on the neighbor.

      It’s too late for me to ask my parents those questions. Unfortunately, it’s too late for this young woman to finish the dialogue so recently begun with her father. But it’s not too late to share with my son.  

      I’ll have to approach him gingerly, testing the waters with the barest hint of motherly guidance. He is, after all, a young twenty-something, still in the early stages of pushing away, separating and individuating, casting off motherly advice with an irritated exhale and a monosyllabic reply.

       That’s okay. At some point in his life, maybe when this first baby of his is born in just a few months, he will have questions for my husband and me. When he asks, I will give him my journals, which I started when he was in high school, and have added to each Mother’s Day since.  

       Here are the things I’d like to tell him this year, as he approaches fatherhood:   Don’t worry.

It’s a waste of energy, time and emotion. It will tie you up in knots so you can’t sleep. Make you cranky with the people you care about. Worry is fear about the future, but it does nothing to actually change it. Instead of worrying, make the best decisions you can right now. Then let the Universe plot your best course.

Examination your foundation carefully.

Look deeply at your worldview, what you value, your personal compass. Then live by it. It will affect every decision you make. Life has a way of uprooting you and tossing you around. Be sure you nail the landing.

Choose your friends, don’t just fall in with them.

Your friends will give shape to your life. They will either stunt your growth or urge you on. When you find good friends, treasure them and invest time and effort into keeping them. Be the kind of friend you want to have.

Remain a Student.

Look, listen, read, learn. Never stop. Be enthusiastic and curious about a wide range of topics. Find a mentor, a teacher, a spiritual guide. Be open to new ideas and viewpoints for all of your years. Never stagnate.

Develop good habits.

In her book, The Writing Life, author Annie Dillard said, “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.”  Don’t wait until tomorrow to exercise, eat healthy, get up on time, do your best work.  And don’t wait until it’s more convenient to fall in love, save money, or take the time to really listen.   

Heal your wounds.

No one wants to experience pain, but it’s gonna happen. Acknowledge. Heal.

And don’t fool yourself into thinking the trauma of your childhood has been left in the past. Those shadows grow under the surface, then, from a random trigger incident, roil up suddenly to engulf you. If you need help with healing, don’t be afraid or ashamed to ask for help, including professional counseling. Every painful trial is like an oyster, and there is a precious pearl—a personal benefit—in every one; every single one. Repeat that thought like a mantra.

Realize that not everything is about you.

So much of our disappointment and frustration with people, jobs--basically with life in general—occurs because we presume that life should go our way. Often, the way people treat you is about them, not you.

Be patient.

Our society is programmed to get things instantly and on demand. But life doesn’t always work that way. Push gently on a lot of doors, and believe that the Universe has a plan for you. You can’t know what you’re good at or what you most enjoy without sampling a large number of situations. Learn what you want first, then patiently and methodically work at clearing the road blocks in your path.

 Be excited for other people’s success.

Remember it’s not all about you, right?  Sincere support of others will get you ahead faster than stepping on everyone else’s fingers to climb the success ladder. Take time to hear what people really want, what they really think. You will never be called a jerk for listening too much.

 Don’t be afraid to follow your instincts.

If you think she may not be the right girl, she probably isn’t. Same goes for the right job, the right moral decision. Of all the voices you hear, your own may be the wisest, but hardest to listen to. Pay attention to that knot in your gut when something is a bit off, and also to the pure joy when it’s just right.

 Take risks.

Go boldly into the unknown if that’s where your instincts and a bit of reason send you. It may be out of your comfort zone. So what? As a wise friend once said, “Do what you won’t regret. It’s more satisfying than regretting what you didn’t do.”

Take sin seriously.

I am a firm believer in Karma. Every act has a reaction. There is no such thing as “getting away with it.” Even if you don’t get caught. Though forgiveness is divine, sin leaves a stain. And that spot is permanent, even if you ignore it and fake like it isn’t there. Karma, child, is the ultimate bitch slap.

 Make time to rest and recharge

When you are young, you think you can abuse yourself continually and still recover. So you fill your days and nights to overflowing. But what you do now will eventually take its toll on you physically and mentally. Develop good sleep habits now. Learn to say “no” when you’re over-extended. Learn to meditate. Get your nose out of your laptop and your iphone and walk in nature. To learn pure joy, take a dog with you.

 Keep your tribe intact.

As you get older, get a full-time job, get married, have children, it becomes harder to make time for anything outside of your personal bubble. Family truly is your foundation, and that foundation includes those who came before, as well as those who will follow you. Cherish your own babies, and the babies of those you love.

I am constantly dismayed by people who tell me they’ve drifted away from their children, or their parents. Do your best to preserve your familial ties. Treat your parents as tribal elders. Ask them questions: What do they regret not asking their parents? Is there anything that they wish was different between you—or that they would still like to change? How do they want to approach older age, and eventually death, and is there anything you can do to help them? What music do they want played at their funeral? Do they want a “green” burial?

 Honor those you love.  

Honor goes hand in glove with love, a verb whose very definition is doing worthwhile things for someone who is valuable to us. Love them, yes, but more than that, give them the gift of your respect. And not just when they're on their best behavior. Dig deeper, really know them. Respect their core. You will love yourself for doing it.



      

 

 

 

 

Vikings Love

I hope you were as excited as I was to start Season 3 of Vikings on the History channel, and to follow the adventures of real-life Norwegian warrior Ragnar Lodbrok, the former farmer now king.

Nearly as curious as they were ruthless, the ancient Norse revered nature, minted no currency of their own, allowed their women to fight and divorce their husbands, and believed in the afterlife. The series is rich in pagan lore and symbolism. Here are some of my favorites.

1. Ravens and Odin. Ravens appear everywhere, starting with the opening credits. The Norse God Odin has two named Huginn and Muninn, meaning “thought” and “memory.” When ravens descend on a battlefield to pick at the bodies of the slain, it represents Odin’s acceptance of the blood sacrifice he’s been offered. The ravens were also his messenger, travelling the earth during the day and returning to him at night to tell him of the deeds of man.

When it comes to worshipping Odin, there’s no better Viking than Ragnar, who feels a very personal connection with the god. “Odin sacrificed an eye to look into the well of knowledge, so I thought Ragnar should have the same impulses,” says series creator Michael Hirst. Embracing “new” technology—sundials—Ragnar leads his seafarers west for the first time and becomes intrigued with a captive monk. Says Hirst, “He’s not just going on raids to plunder and steal and kill. Ragnar’s actually curious about the world.” Ragnar also embraced the raven by incorporating the image into his armor last season.

The gods have been featured in many episodes of Vikings, in different forms. In the season one episode “Sacrifice,” one of my favorites, we see Odin, his son Thor and the god Greyr as three towering monuments inside the temple at Uppsale. Ragnar asks Odin who will bear him a son, since it appears Lagertha cannot. Soon after he meets the princess Aslaug. She gives him sons, but Ragnar’s troubles have just begun.

And by the way, what’s up with Ragnar’s buzzcut-meets-braid hair? Is it true to Viking tradition? “I was dreading the usual long hair biker look, but didn’t know how we would escape it,” Hirst says. The solution came when star Travis Fimmel showed up in a crew cut to begin filming. “He hadn’t grown his hair long enough to have extensions so we couldn’t have orthodox long hair,” Hirst recalls. Enter costume designer Joan Bergin. Joan said, “Leave it up to me. I’ll come up with a look.”

So, is it historically accurate? Maybe not. Researchers hypothesize Vikings may have shaved their heads as a health precaution to prevent lice. What few records exist report the back of the head was shaven and the front fringe left long. Ragnar’s son Bjorn and many other characters of the series have haircuts closer to the Norman tradition. But, hey, Ragnar has to have a signature look.

2. Loki. Hirst sees the mythic Loki as “a kind of serious mischief-maker.” To embody that spirit, he created the clever but unstable shipbuilder Floki (Fustaf Skarsgard). The character also represents Heimdall, a deity with gold teeth. His treasured possession is Gjallarhorn, which will be blown at the onset of Ragnarok, the battle that ends the world. Floki is indeed pictured with a horn, even though it is a drinking horn. We learned at the end of season two how dangerous he can be. Hirst says more strange dark things are ahead for this character.

3. Visions and Prophecy. Everybody believes in prophecies in this world. The Seer (actor John Kavanagh) and his visions are as integral in the show as prophecies were in Viking culture. The Vikings believed their fate was set initially at birth, and that the Norns who lived under the tree of life would spin the details of their fates every day.

Ragnar’s second wife Aslaug tells him she is a volva, a female seer. She proved she was the daughter of Sigurd, a famous volva who had killed the serpent Farnir by prophesying her child would be born with the image of that serpent in its eye. When the child is born with a malformed pupil, it was named Sigurd snake-in-eye. Next, she predicts that if Ragnar forces himself on her, their second child will be born cursed and we see that with Ivar the Boneless, born with malformed legs.

This type of magic was considered female domain. The woman of the house acted as priestess, to prophesize, to weave spells in the threads of her family’s clothes, and to concoct herbal remedies. Most Viking men, even the gods, consulted a volva rather than trying to divine the future themselves. This is what Odin does when he resurrects a long-dead volva from her grave in the poem Baldrs draumar. The seer predicts the death of his own son.

In Viking society if something terrible or really interesting is going to happen, people have simultaneous dreams about it. In the first episode in season three, Aslaug, Siggy and Helga have identical dreams of a stranger arriving in Kattegat with blood dripping from his hands. When he arrives, he's an extremely mysterious, slightly Rasputin figure who does wonderful things for Aslaug in terms of her crippled son Ivar, but the other two women are afraid.  Since the name Harbard is another name for Odin, it will be interesting to see what Vikings has in store for us in Season three.

I will delve into Viking lore more next time with the mythology of swords, the Valkyries, dragons and talking skulls.

Until then, if you’d like to read Norse history and mythology, here are some suggested books:

The Norse Myths by Kevin Crossley-Holland - Here are thirty-two classic myths that bring the Viking world vividly to life.

The D’Aulaires Book of Norse Myths – retellings of the Norse tales and descriptions of the gods and their world. For children ages 5-10.

Wolfsangel by MD Lachlan - Viking raiders kidnap two infant brothers from a village. Clever Vali is groomed to be Viking king Authun's heir, while Feileg is raised ferally as Gullveig's werewolf protector as she schemes against the god Odin. I particularly like the way the magic is portrayed in traditional Norse Shamanic tradition.

The Whale Road by Robert Low - Charts the adventures of a band of Vikings on the chase for the secret hoard of Attila the Hun.

Odd and the Frost Giants by Neil Gaiman - In this inventive, short, yet perfectly formed novel inspired by traditional Norse mythology, Neil Gaiman takes readers on a wild and magical trip to the land of giants and gods and back.

Last Light of the Sun by Guy Gavriel Key - Wonderfully imaginative historical fantasy. Seemingly random deeds connect Viking raiders and English and Welsh princes: If only Bern Thorkellson hadn't stolen that horse in a desperate act of vengeance against his sorry fate; if only Dai ab Owyn hadn't stepped outside the safety of Brynfell right at the moment when the Erlings attacked; if only Ivarr Ragnarson hadn't been born ill-formed and downright cruel; if only Aeldred hadn't been king of the Anglcyn; if only Thorkell Einarson had murdered only one man and not the second; if only Alun ab Owyn hadn't stepped into that pool on a moonless night and seen the Queen of the Elves in procession.

The Hammer and the Cross by Harry Harrison & John Holm -  Born the bastard son of an English thane, Shef goes on to lead the Viking army originally belonging to the sons of Ragnar Loðbrokkr, rising in rank from a thrall (slave) to carl (freeman) and ultimately emerging as a jarl (nobleman).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cleaning Your Emotional House

My husband, like most men, doesn’t ask for much this time of year. He’d like a good meal, a little appreciation for replacing the light bulb in the kitchen (it required a ladder after all). Then he wants to be left alone to watch the Chiefs plunder the Broncos.

This Valentines, on the other hand, I want…what?  I don’t know. Everything, I guess. I don’t care about the flowers or the chocolate. Instead, I want pure eros. Where the man truly yearns for the woman—body and soul. If you ever wondered why the Twilight series was so phenomenally successful, this is it: they depict erotic engagement very well. Not the act of sex, but taking full notice of each other.

As soon as I say this, of course, other issues seep in. I’ve gained weight this winter and don’t feel sexy. I have a writing deadline and will be late to bed. My son is coming home from college this weekend and I’d like to spend time with him. I just changed the sheets.

This integrative, overlapping aspect of a woman’s thinking is somewhat foreign to the average man. He knows that the kitchen needs updating, and that he and his wife haven’t had a real conversation in a week, but it’s just not as much on his mind as it is on hers. He compartmentalizes his thoughts.

According to Lucy Danziger and Catherine Birndorf, co-authors of The Nine Rooms of Happiness, this tendency to think in intertwined emotions is at the root of much female malaise. The authors imagine a woman’s life as a house of many rooms: love and sex (the bedroom), family and friends (The family room), health and appearance (the bathroom), nourishment and the division of chores (the kitchen), and my personal favorite, the place where you’re always wrong (the kid’s room).

Because our thinking is comprehensive, there will always be something that isn’t measuring up to our standards, and sometimes we let that dissatisfaction spill over into other areas of our lives, distracting us from taking pleasure in everything that is going right. The authors, one a psychiatrist and director of a women’s program, counsel that trying to solve problems in the wrong room, for the wrong reasons, can sabotage your relationships and happiness.

Back to my poor husband and my wanting to be adored. Is our issue really about sex? Does this discussion belong in the bedroom? Probably not. Looking at the guidelines and examples in The Nine Rooms of Happiness, I need to do some housekeeping in the bathroom (body issues), the office (bringing work home), and maybe even in the family room (time for son). To complicate things further, it’s possible I won’t alleviate my work anxiety in the office, because the real problem is a philosophical difference between my husband and me about earning and spending money. If that’s the case, I may want to take him with me to visit the basement, and explore our childhood memories of family money woes growing up.

The book’s concept gives an arrestingly visual approach to identifying and analyzing issues in your relationships. One thing I know for sure: my Valentine yearning for body-and-soul eros has little to do with a lack of sex. When we do return to bed, hopefully we will both be more in touch with each other’s’ feelings.

This month, instead of obsessing about the one thing in your life that are lacking, walk through the rooms of your emotional house, and let the things that are going right become the sparks in a chain-reaction to burn away the negative. When we clean house, we must first clear space to make room for something new. The same is true energetically: eliminate a negative thought pattern to replace it with happier thinking.

May your Valentine’s Day be filled with sweet thoughts.

 

 

 

 

 







 




 




 































 




 




 










 

Inspirited

 

As we impatiently await spring’s arrival (Eastern and Midwestern readers, I feel your pain), there’s a word that embodies this change of season for me every year: Inspirited. Def: to infuse with spirit. In the last few weeks of a hard winter, it’s almost impossible to imagine the green new life of spring. But—surprise!—it shows up again every year, just before we give in to despair. Isn’t the in-spirit of our Earth amazing?

“Wakan, Wakan, every creature

Wakan, Wakan, every rock.

Tuku Skanskan, time surrounds you

From sacred Earth we send our voices.”

One of the basic tenants of Native American belief, and one of its most beautiful, is that everything in life has a spirit and is Wakan, or sacred. We often forget to honor (or even recognize) the primal force of life, the stream of existence in which each of us swims. We move along this stream largely unaware of the larger cosmos in which we are involved, and the miracles it brings us without our asking, and largely without our thanks.

Through the art of shape-shifting, and other meditative visionary techniques, we can understand more fully that every one of us has a reserved place within the great shape of things. This is an ancient consciousness shared by many tribal and shamanic people on the planet.

Shape-shifting is the energetic exercise of attuning one’s own shape to the rhythm of something else in the natural world, so you may share its consciousness. When we become more conscious of the web of life, we become one with the forest, the rain, the blade of grass, the raven, and the earth. We recognize that all things are inspirited.

Some scientists are even beginning to compare new discoveries in physics to shamanistic beliefs.  One is Jean E. Charon, a French physicist, philosopher and author of the book, The Spirit: That Stranger Inside Us (2004).  He says, “There are microscopic individualities inside every human. They think, they know, and (they) carry Spirit in the Universe.” He calls these bits of intelligence eons, also known as electrons.  “An electron that was successively part of a tree, a human being, a tiger, and another human being will thus remember for all time the experiences it has collected during these different lives. The electron will maintain within itself all of its experiences as tree, as human being No. 1, as tiger, and as human being No 2, to whose organisms it belonged.”

The ancient Celts had a word for this concept, tuirigin (TOOR’ghin), a very precise word for which there is no English equivalent. The nearest we can get to a translation is, “a circuit of births,” according to Caitlin Matthews, a Celtic historian. She says it’s, “not quite the same as reincarnation. In tuirigin, the soul or spirit moves between the otherworld and this world in a series of journeys.”

The Gaelic word for God is Cruithear, which means ‘creator’ or ‘shaper,’ and the ancient people in Scotland, the Picts, were referred to as the Cruithne, “people of the shapes.” Roman accounts, as well as Scottish oral tradition, tell us that the bodies of these ancient ones were covered in elaborate blue tattoos of various animals and other shapes. According to Matthews, it was their way of honoring the sacred world that had shaped them.

How many of us live our lives as ambassadors of the sacred spirit in all things, be it human, plant or animal? If we do not remember our own sacred standing, we may do things that are not in alignment with ambassadorship. Rather than fostering harmony and living an inspirited life, we may instead create discord and destruction.

This week, without waiting for spring to remind you, perform your own inspirited practice.

The next time you find yourself in a crowded place, whether in a shopping mall, movie theatre, football stadium or on a bus, do the following activity, adapted from Frank MacEowen’s wonderful book, The Mist-Filled Path:

Look at all the different people and whisper or think to yourself: “Every man, my brother. Every woman, my sister. Every crying child, my child. Every old woman or man, my grandmother or grandfather. Every wounded soul, my soul.”

The witch’s path, the shaman’s path, the tribal path, the ancestral path. Your path.  All are rooted in allowing our spirit to be shaped by the larger universe. Today, infuse your spirit with Waken.

 

 

      

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Outdoor Walking, It's Good for the Sole

Just because the trees are bare and there’s a chill in the air doesn’t mean you have to forgo your daily walks outside for the dreaded treadmill.

       Outdoor walking provides three major levels of benefit. The physical benefit of any exercise is obvious. But walking helps you think better. Just 90 days of moderate walking boosts blood flow to the brain by 15%. You get fresh air (or as close as we come to that on earth these days), which helps increase your energy level.

       Like bears, people tend to hibernate during the winter and, as a result, get too little sunlight, explains Lynn Millar, PhD, a physical therapist and professor at Andrews University in Barrien Springs, Mich. That's too bad for bones. Sun exposure triggers vitamin D production in the skin, and bones need the “sunshine vitamin” to make the body absorb bone-strengthening calcium properly. Not getting outside during winter months slows down production and decreases the body’s store of vitamin D.

       “Vitamin D is important for keeping bones strong; it’s particularly important for people with arthritis who take corticosteroids because they have an increased risk of brittle bones,” says Millar. Going for a winter walk and getting 15 minutes of sun on your face and hands two to three times per week should suffice for getting enough sun for vitamin D production.

        Besides aiding in strong bones and a healthy immune system, this vitamin has been shown to help prevent dementia.

       We are designed to live and work outdoors, hiking through forests and over hills. Our entire system responds to outdoor exercise. Sunlight is helpful psychologically also, to help avoid conditions such as Seasonal Affective Disorder, which causes low energy levels and depression during the short daylight hours of higher-latitude winters. Wide open spaces, particularly if combined with large bodies of water, have a transformative effect on the brain. They relax the mind and facilitative meditation by clearing blocked emotions and energy. To get the most benefit, try looking ahead in the distance, or at objects above the horizontal plane. It will help clear your thought patterns.

       There is some evidence that suggests we can derive more health benefit by walking barefoot. It’s called grounding, and some swear by the anti-inflammation benefits of putting their bare soles to the earth.

       We tend to think of the earth as electrically neutral because of its ability to absorb and neutralize vast amounts of electrical current, but in reality, due to grounding lightning strikes it is in fact negatively charged. That’s a whole lot of free electrons available to absorb, if our bare feet make contact.  By grounding you can plug into the earth’s energy field, and neutralize the huge amounts of free radicals we are saturated with from residual ambient radio, microwave and infrared pollution. If you have trouble sleeping and feel your circadian rhythm is disrupted, try taking a walk barefoot on your lawn!

       Another benefit to kicking off your shoes is to allow your limbs to return to their natural gait. In shoes, your foot lands heel-first, with maximum skeletal shock, rather than toe-first, which minimizes the impact. The foot is connected to every part of our energy system, and allowing the foot’s natural movement and massaging motion will help keep you supple.

       The third benefit to walking in nature is a more spiritual one. We are reminded that the earth is not just some random boat we happen to be aboard. It is our home, just like the body we inhabit. Although it might appear that we exist as isolated individuals, separate from one another, living in our own universes, in reality we share the same universe, the same earth, the same breath. That earth was here before us and will endure after our physical death. The idea is powerful and humbling, and helps put day-to-day life into perspective.

       So walk barefoot before it gets too cold. Grab a pitchfork and tuck in your garden with a blanket of mulch or straw. Bundle up and walk in the woods or down your favorite trail. Give thanks for the turning wheel of the year and the beauty of Nature in all of her coats.

 

 

Domestic Goddess - A Thanksgiving Tale

 

The Queen was quite pleased with herself. It was the Monday before Thanksgiving and she planned to spend the next four days getting ready for her guests. First, she swept the floors and mopped them with magical herb water, singing, “Out with the negative and stale, in with freshness and prosperity!” She could almost feel the house breathe a sigh of contentment when she finished. Next, she bleached her sink and deodorized the garbage disposal and trash can with fresh lemon from her tree in the garden. She cleaned her cabinets and counter tops with lavender water. The room was gleaming and spotless.

On Tuesday, she thawed her turkey and plunged it into an herb-infused salt brine bath overnight to be sure it would be tender and flavorful. This year, the bird was so big--nearly 25 pounds--she’d had to go out and buy a metal ice bucket to accommodate the chubby sucker. Of course, the bucket leaked, so she ended up lining it with a trash bag and making another batch of brine to replace the first one which was now soaking into the back yard lawn. She hoped her husband wouldn’t notice the big patch of dead grass encrusted in a salt ring. It was pretty hard to miss, but she was going to plead ignorance, no matter how much he questioned her.

She was almost finished preparing all her dressing ingredients to mix and stuff inside the turkey. Of course, her favorite, the one with cornbread, apples, currents, onion and mushrooms, she’d have to make separately the day before. Her mother-in-law was allergic to mushrooms, couldn’t stand the things, and refused to eat at the Queen’s house if she had fixed anything with mushrooms that day. As she diced onion and celery, the Queen’s mind wandered to other mushroom recipes. Ones where she might be able to completely mask the ingredient. A small smile curved the edges of her mouth upward, and she pulled her red stock pot from atop the refrigerator and started a batch of home-made stock. “Vegetable soup will be perfect tomorrow. It’s forecast to rain, and soup always tastes better when it’s rainy outside.” By the time the stock was bubbling, the Queen was humming happily.

Wednesday she got down on her hands and knees and scrubbed the floor grout until it was almost the same color as the tiles. She timed herself:  twenty squares cleaned in an hour. Two hundred and fifty squares in the kitchen and entry way. No wonder she hadn’t cleaned them in years. By the time she finished, it was dark out. She could barely stand and her back was in spasm all night. She’d forgotten to eat her soup. But boy, that floor looked like new.

She got up before dawn Thanksgiving morning to stuff the turkey and get it in the oven. Almost screamed when she squatted down and shoved that twenty-five pound roaster pan of slimy poultry into the oven. Next house, she was buying a built-in oven she didn’t have to bend in half to use. She took some ibuprofen with her coffee. No time for breakfast, she had pies to bake. Oh, and that second pan of her favorite stuffing.

The Queen ironed her best table cloth, the linen one with scalloped lace edges. It had been a wedding gift, but she rarely used it. The stains were so hard to get out of linen. But today she thought, “It’s Thanksgiving. My loving family will all be here. My house looks beautiful. We have a delicious meal. I am so thankful for all this abundance for myself and my loved ones.” She was so happy, in fact, that she set the table with her best china and crystal.

The house smelled delicious already. With all the wonderful scents in the kitchen, her mother-in-law would never know she made that mushroom dressing today. She added a vase of bittersweet to the dining table and lit candles in the front windows. Feeling contented, she headed the bathroom to shower and dress for dinner.

While she was in the shower, the Prince arrived, home for the long weekend from college. “Mom, I’m home,” he hollered. He dumped the soft drink from his car in the gleaming sink, leaving it brown. Peeking into the oven, he checked the turkey. It smelled good but it wasn’t done. So he rummaged in the pantry for chips and salsa, dripping salsa on the counter as he filled himself a bowl, and leaving the dirty dishes in the living room when he went to his room to play video games.

Then the King arrived. He dumped a pile of junk mail on the table, next to her vase of bittersweet. He’d been collected it in his car all week and decided this was the day to clear the passenger seat in case they used the car that night.

The Queen was out of the shower by then. The king joined her in the bathroom, giving her a peck on the cheek and grabbing a quick feel-up. Then he headed into the next room to turn on the football game, leaving a trail of muddy boot prints on her pristine floor. It was raining outside.

The Queen stumbled through the house in disbelief. 

NO! She’d only been gone for thirty minutes. She sank into a chair, feeling numb. It was the first time she had sat down in four days.

The front door opened and Mother-in-Law popped her head in. “Do I smell mushrooms?”

Several newspapers lay amongst the pile of discarded mail. The tired Queen picked up the most recent one.

“Screw the domestic goddess. I’m going to the movies.”

 

 

 

 

 

Graveyard Dirt

Victim, Healer or Perpetrator?

In many forms of folk magic, the person who’s inside the grave is significant. Dust from the grave of someone who loved you should be used in love spells, while dust from the burial site of a wicked person might be incorporated into curses and other malevolent workings. Dust from a lawyer’s grave can turn a court case your way, and soil from a detective or police officer may help catch a rapist. The dirt from a midwife’s grave lends spiritual aid during childbirth. Who knows? A little dust from a doctor’s grave could cure what ails you.

The dust from the grave has a physical correspondence with the traits of the person buried beneath it. The closer the dirt was to the corpse, the more potent it is considered to be. The dust can be enhanced by combining it with moss scraped from the grave. Or mix it with herbs, nails, a magnet, sulfur, shedded snack skins, red or black pepper, or chimney soot, depending on how you will be using the mixture.

Here is how Nicholas Orenda, a sixth-generation witch in my novel, Song of the Ancients, approached his graveyard visit. Granted, he took a bit more than dust from the grave.

Chapter 29: Graveyard Dust

  Nicholas pulled off the gravel road in the dwindling twilight, stopping at a rickety barbed-wire fence blocking the cemetery entrance. He unlatched the post, scraping the gate across the snowy ground and dropping it where the road’s edge fell off into the ice-crusted ditch.

  He dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a handful of pennies, scattering them in the snow. “Alms for the dead,” he muttered. Somewhere behind him, a coyote howled a solitary note, and was answered by a chorus of voices from the dark woods.

  Ahead, dull grey tombstones poked up from the earth at odd angles like rows of crooked teeth. Half-way into the cemetery a dark mound protruded above the snow.

  Opening the trunk, Nicholas removed a flashlight, shovel, crowbar, and a small hatchet, dropping them into a burlap sack. He tucked the sack under his arm and headed to the new grave, his boots crunching to the ground as they broke through the icy film on the top of the snow.

   The burial mound was soft and the digging went quickly.  While he pitched shovel after shovel of dirt over his shoulder, his mind returned to the idea of bonding with Samantha. A blood bond would be the strongest, although any bodily fluid would work. Blood would have the added benefit of tying them telepathically. Of course submitting freely, of her own will, would allow him to avoid resorting to dark magic and help keep his soul intact. Oops, too late, he thought, looking at the growing pile of dirt.

Why would someone sneak into a cemetery and bury a body? He could think of a number of mundane reasons, but why would a witch do so? Unless they defiled the body in some way and didn’t want anyone to know. As the hole grew deeper, his unease increased.

Only three feet down his shovel hit something firmer than the soft soil, connecting with a muffled thud. Digging carefully down one side, he cleared a space to stand beside the box. He removed the crowbar from his sack and pried the coffin nails from one side, muttering softly. “Coffin nails, familiars of maggot and worms and unsavory creatures of the kind. Do my bidding, my evil works, when I so command.” Blowing on the nails, he pocketed them and opened the lid.

He held his breath and shone the flashlight on the body, a young woman, barely past her teens. Her hands had been folded on her chest. He ran the flashlight further down, illuminating several places on her right arm where jagged chunks of flesh were missing.

Burning bile rose in his throat, making him gag and cough. Something chewed on this girl. Oh, Goddess, tell me she died first.

Nicholas scrambled out of the hole, swallowing to get the acidic taste out of his mouth, and brushing the soil off his shirt and pants with shaky hands. The girl’s injuries were similar to those he had seen on his mother’s body when he viewed it at the morgue. His mother’s wounds had confused him. Now suspicion sickened him. He closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he picked up the hatchet and the burlap sack, and dropped back into the grave.

Working quickly, he lopped off the corpse’s left hand and dropped it into the bag. Then he dug his fingers into the soil adjacent to the box, scooping out a handful, then another, the dirt into his pants pocket. There were spells to catch a perpetrator using graveyard dirt from a victim’s grave. He was pretty sure who had killed this girl and defiled her body, but a confirmation spell working would be magickal evidence for the Council.

 Closing the lid on the casket quietly, he gathered his tools and climbed out of the grave.

   Nicholas gave a quick look around to be sure no prying eyes were watching before shoveling the dirt back onto the coffin.

  For one moment longer he stood by the mound. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out a silver dime and dropped it on the grave.

  Satisfied, he ran his fingers over the mound to erase his footprints and scattered a few dry leaves on top. He looked around one last time to be sure he’d forgotten nothing, then hurried back to the car, holding the sack at arm’s length.   

  Dumping everything into the trunk, he drove out the gate without stopping. 

* * * * *

Waning Moon at Midnight

Some people say to visit the cemetery on the dark or waning moon at midnight for malevolent spells, or on the full moon for love and healing workings. I say let the rules of your cemetery be your guide. If you can enter the premises at night, then go after dark. But honor the law.

Have all of your supplies in your sack and flowers in hand. The flowers are your excuse to be in the cemetery, in case anyone is watching. The fact that the flowers are potted gives you an excuse to dig a small planting hole at the grave.

At the gate of the cemetery, leave your 9 pennies in honor of the spirit who owns and guards all graveyards. Ask for his permission and protection while you do your work, and then enter.

Start in the center of the cemetery, walking by candlelight. Reach out with your thoughts and talk to the spirits of the graveyard. Tell them the magickal work you want to accomplish, and ask who among them will assist you. Wait for a ‘tug’ leading you in the right direction, and proceed slowly to the grave that calls to you. When you get there, place the candle on the grave and sit on top of it to meditate/pray with that spirit for a bit. Ask for permission and assistance, and if you get an affirmative answer, begin to buy the dirt.

Shake Out Your Shoes

         Graveyard dust can be used for foot-track magic, a form of sorcery in which one hurts or poisons a victim through the feet (ie, the graveyard dust mixture is sprinkled in the shoes of the victim, or on a path where the victim will walk). However, spells of revenge or retribution tend to have serious ethical considerations, and will almost always backfire on the user. Instead, consider methods of mediation and enlightenment to achieve your goals. One example, a graveyard dust spell for a fair inheritance, is posted on my website, writerSandy.com.