SECTION III - STORY TIME
Stones Rising Weekend - Review By Midnight Grey Wolfpup
Abby - Mystickally
Mystic Moon - ~Rain
Michael and Beth Chronicles - Selene SilverWind
Mewsings from The Ally - Mystickally
Warm and Happy - Debbie Staley
Elements of Norse Shape-shifting - Odhinn
The Goddess Companion - Review by Susan Davis
MEAGAN'S MABON - Kathryn Dyer
My Friend The Tree - chapter six - "T"
Hawaiian Magic & Spirituality - Review by Susan Davis
My Life - DreamDancer
Ravens Rants - Meditation for the body and soul - LadyRavenWitch
Stones Rising Weekend
By Midnight Grey Wolfpup
Editor/Publisher/Owner
Cauldrons and Broomsticks Ezine
Greetings everyone! I get invited to alot of gatherings all over the nation, but due to
time and travel I just never get to make it, but this time I took someone up on their
offer and want to share about it. I was invited to attend the yearly Stones Rising
event at the Four Quarters Farm in Artemis, PA (http://www.4qf.org/index.htm) over this
last Labor Day weekend. What a wonderful experience that was. I can't begin to thank
Orren Whiddon [megalith@his.com] enough to allowing his 150 acre farm to be enjoyed by
so many people. What a beautiful sharing experience it was, and I was able to meet so
many *wonderful* people. It seems that the farm is actually a licensed church, and they
have *many* gatherings during the year, and you can read all about it on their website
above. If the others are anything like this one was, I fully recommend the trip to
witness it first hand. I met people from Florida, Virginia, Georgia, Canada ..... and
many places in between. The only thing I didn't meet was a stranger. We all shared a
common bond, and it drew us together for one long weekend as part of the same tribe. It
was truly amazingly beautiful.
Each year, they add a few more stones to their circle that has grown over the years.
Each one weighs in at about 3 tons, and is hauled in on wooden rollers by the people in
the event. On Saturday evening about dusk, they start a drumming that goes for 14 hours
straight!!! The most amazing thing I've even witnessed. Their kitchen can really cook
up some awesome food too ... whether it's Ominivorian or Herbovorian it's a fabulous
feast. It's your choice. Let me turn this review over to Orren himself for a minute,
and you can hear *his* words on it:
"We cannot begin to express our amazement at the response to our call for ceremonial
commitments and the manner in which they were fulfilled for this years Stones Rising.
With the largest pre-registered attendance in its history and the largest gate
registrations ever, the people have made a clear statement about the role and need for
ceremony in their lives.
And as hundreds of people left the ceremonial grounds Sunday morning to begin working
the long lines, levers and rollers of The Stone Crews; as The StoneSingers Choir began
its rounds of song with the Spirit Drum and Ceremonial Drum; The Preparers of the
Pathway leaving with their baskets of corn meal, the Members of the Sacred Dance and
Drums of Service; with the people of Vesta's Hearth returning to their hidden work in
the kitchens still leaving a throng of Witnesses under the Arbors... the willingness to
make Sacrifice within Ceremony became clear.
The drawn look on the faces of the Drums of Service as they completed their 14 hour long
Commitment and the cheer that greeted them as their Sacrifice was validated by the
Intercessors and Witnesses.
The sweat, mud and beaming smiles of the third stone crew as they brought the last stone
into Circle from its half mile and four hour long journey through the length of camp.
The quietude and gentle hands of Vestas Hearth as they served the Feast of the Standing
Stones, fulfilling their four day long Commitment to feed the people with over 1200
meals.
And the embarrassed look on the face of a certain humble potter as 350 glazed ceramic
bowls were given out and prepared for Libation. Each one a testament to his own six week
long Commitment of Sacrifice to the Circle. And still we ran short.
Our deepest thanks and honoring to the Members of The Assembly of the Sacred Wheel, Ile
Orunla, The DC Rad Fey, Dark Isis, our Elders, the Members of Four Quarters Farm and The
Church of Four Quarters, and all the others who made their own journeys far from hearth
and home to make Commitments of Service to the Circle.
By whatever name you call it, Wicca, NeoPagan, EarthReligous, The Old Religion; let
there be no doubt that a doorway has opened; that our religious sensibilities are real
and tangible; and that the future shall know us by the work we do today, from the heart,
in a good way."
How can I ever add to such wonderful words such as that. As Editor, Publisher and Owner
of this publication I have learned long ago when to keep quiet and allow words to be
spoken from the heart. This is one of those times. As a final, and major testament to
the wonderful weekend allow me to leave you with this: Orren, if you are reading
this .... you have lived up to your promise and are, as I indeed felt you were ... a man
of your word. I'll be renewing my membership again at the first of the year, and will
be registering for the next Stones Rising weekend. It was well worth the drive. See
you all there! :-)
Blessings, warmth and love ....
The Wolfpup
Abby
By Mystickally
Three months had gone by since the protest on campus. Things had started to die down and
the media coverage stopped. Everything around town seemed to return to normal except
that by then every Pagan in town who participated in the protest had inevitably been
caught on video and was forced “out of the broom closet”. Much to the dismay of the
Anti-Pagans, it was proven that the small community actually had a rather large Pagan
community as compared to any other religious denomination.
Greg tried to get on with his life the best way he knew how. His teaching duties, along
with every other privilege he’d been given were taken away. He was just going about his
studies and ignoring everything and everyone else. This was how he dealt with everything
in life. Whenever something went wrong in his life he’d shrug it off and pretend it
never happened. If something didn’t go his way, the other person was in the wrong and
damned for it. This whole situation with the protest processed in Greg’s head as a big
injustice against him, and the whole school was out to get him – even those trying to
help him.
Despite Greg’s years of coping in this fashion, Abby would not leave his mind. Greg
never thought he would ever have to see Abigail’s face again, and now he realized that
she could be his only way of getting through this. That made him a little nervous. Abby
had always been very fair, no matter what person was involved. She had always been able
to be very objective, but in this case, especially with Cal right there beside her.
Greg wasn’t too confident.
Greg walked through campus fairly easily, without paying much attention to those staring
and pointing at him, not for being Pagan but for the parts of his past that came out
during Abby’s testimony. He finally got into the student center and plopped down on an
armchair, pulled out a book and continued to ignore the world. He pretended to be
reading his book, but in reality he was trying to figure out a way to get to Abby. She
had such a major part of his life at one point and it seemed odd to not have her there
with him now.
Greg furiously scratched his head and shook out his hair, frustrated that he could not
get her out of his mind. He blinked a few times before trying once again to concentrate
on his book. Before he could do so, Cal took the chair beside him and stared at him.
With an aggravated sigh, Greg asked, “What?”
“It must really stink to have her around you 24/7 huh Greg? It’s like you actually have
to relive the past, rethink past wrongdoings, unmake the bad you’ve done?”
Greg stood up. “I came here to clear my mind Cal, so I don’t need you here to harass
me.”
“Oh you haven’t yet witnessed what harassment is like. You’re usually the one doing it,
aren’t you Greg?”
Greg picked up his things and was ready to leave, but Cal grabbed his arm and forced him
to stay.
“Greg, I am talking to you and damn it you’re going to listen this time!”
Greg reluctantly sat down.
“I should have done this when I first had the chance.” Cal exclaimed, and with a sigh,
went on to say, “You sure have gotten yourself into some major crap this time huh
Greg?”
Cal laughed but Greg started to get more and more annoyed.
“What I haven’t been able to figure out is what you are doing here and what does it have
to do with Abby?”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with Abby. I’m here for school and to get on with my
life.”
“No, it’s not about Abby, but it’s about you isn’t it? Tell me Greg, when does the world
stop revolving around you?”
“I didn’t know Abby was here Cal. I was here first.”
“That you were. So what scheme have you been coming up with all this time against Abby
in anticipation of your next run in? Just thought you could get into her head again?
Maybe find out if she has an insatiable urge to throw you down and have her way with
you?” Cal smirked.
“Cal just stop it. You have no idea about what I am thinking or feeling!” Greg
snapped.
Cal interrupted, “No I don’t Greg and you know why? It’s because you have something
loose up in that brain of yours that says the whole world is out to get you and you also
have this God complex that makes you think that every woman alive has got the hots for
you. You grew up with Abby, Greg. What the hell made you believe that she had a fatal
attraction for you?”
“You know what? I don’t have to justify myself, least of all to you. And while we’re
trying to get answers here, tell me why exactly are you so protective of AJ? As far as
I could tell, she has a boyfriend and it isn’t you. So why don’t you just go back to
your own woman and mind your business?”
Cal paused before responding, “You know the answer to that one Greg. Or maybe the drugs
really did fry your brain huh?”
Greg looked as though he had just been punched in the face.
“That was low.” Greg said.
Cal shrugged, “Not as low as letting one of your best friends stand accused of a crime
that YOU committed.”
“Nobody ever proved it.”
“Yeah, but we know the truth don’t we? And that scares you to death. We could all band
together and put you behind bars for the rest of your life. Did you ever think of that?
You have, haven’t you? Isn’t that just a drag?”
Cal started to walk away, but Greg stepped in front of him.
“Cal, when is the tormenting going to stop, huh? We’re all trying to get on with our
lives. Why can’t we just leave it be? I tried to talk to Abby to tell her just that.”
“Greg, this ‘tormenting’ that you’re so hurt by? Well, it’ll end the day it makes up for
all the time we all lost Abby because of you. She’s not the same person anymore is she?
Why do you think that is? And then of course there is Seth. We lost him and we can’t get
him back in any possible way. It’s Abby we are trying to keep now … you get me?”
“You just look into Abby’s eyes and you’ll see what damage you’ve done. Congratulations
Greg. You single-handedly killed ‘AJ’. I guess you’re proud of yourself?” and off Cal
went, disappearing into the crowds.
Greg stood there, unable to move, staring at the spot where Cal had been standing.
Suddenly from the corner of his eye, he spotted Abby walking with a girl he knew from
orchestra. Abby looked so happy, smiling and laughing. She had an overall glow about her
that was completely different from how he last remembered her. Cal was right; she had
changed. Abby spotted him and instantly the smile disappeared. Her friend hustled her
away and that was that. Greg still felt a sense of urgency when it came to Abby. He
wanted to talk to her. He couldn’t figure out why or what he’d even say to her, or even
that he wouldn’t start a headed argument with her.
Rather than run after her, Greg decided that it would be in his best interest to just
stay away. To do otherwise might jeopardize any involvement on her part in standing up
for Pagans – and him – during the ongoing protest. Abby had already done a great deal of
speaking and had somehow been declared the leading voice in the battle for justice. She
made no attempts at hiding the fact that she was new to the Craft, but like ritual
structure and spell writing, she did it with the heart and the intent needed to be
successful. She knew enough to speak about only what she knew. If she ever came across
anything she wasn’t sure of, she’d turn to someone else and admit to not knowing
everything “just yet.” She was very eloquent and straightforward.
Greg’s quest to get back his job and his fellowship had turned into a battle for
acceptance. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the fact that all the attention was being
diverted away from him because of it. Everyday, something was being done to help him get
back his position on campus. But still he saw it as people taking the opportunity to
speak up for Pagan rights. “What about me?” Greg thought.
Greg absentmindedly walked through campus, unaware of the fact that, hiding behind a
corner, Abby was watching him. When Greg turned the corner, Abby grabbed him by his belt
and pulled him towards the door of the building. She closed the door behind them then
latched the back of his belt to the doorknob. Unable to move, Greg just stood there,
struggling to get out.
“I latched it on pretty well. You can’t get out.” Abby smiled, pulled up a chair and sat
in front of him.
“You want to talk to me right? Well here’s your chance, but first, you’re going to hear
what I have to say and this time, you won’t interrupt me…”
"Mystic Moon"
by ~Rain
Chapter 3 "And then there were two... Witches."
I sat at the Kitchen table, Miss Morgana laying in my lap. She was quiet this morning,
I guess that's good. Usually she is purring so much it sounds like she has a stomach
ache. I am beginning to believe, she has her own language.
"Oh wow a sale, HALF off shoes, I don't believe it, no way!" I said to myself as I
looked at the Sunday times, drinking tea. " Anorexic," turn page "Anorexic" turn page,
"oh a spa, I'd go to a spa. If I had Money! I hope my financial situation will change
now that I will be saving some money, with Jane moving in." I looked at Morgana, she
licked me. "Ha Ha Ha stop ! What's today's date anyway, I feel like I am forgetting
something, another job interview, no its Sunday. SUNDAY! Oh wow, today, Jane's moving
in today at 1 o'clock. I should fix up the place, make room for her. Great Goddess !"
The telephone rang. "Great! I'll let the machine get it."
"Gwen, its your mother," she said with a sound of confidence and disappointment all in
one. " Gwen, pick up, Gwen, I know your home."
"I am not here Ma." I told the answering machine, then thanking the goddess for
technology silently.
"OK, your not home, this is your mother, call me back OK, is this thing on?" she made
some clicking noise I assume taping the receiver against something. "How you can't be
home on Sunday morning, I'll never know. I am going to church now, I hope you get this
message you never know machines these days"
"Ma, your so funny, what would I do without you !" I heard the beep signaling the end
of the message. I went around the living room picking up my clothes. As long as I have
known Jane she's been a neat freak. "Great, a neat freak, just what I need another
mother !"
The time flew by and before I knew it Jane buzzed up," Gwen its me, your roomy !" I
pressed the button and let her up. I gave the living room a glance over to see if
everything looked good, then went in the hallway and helped Jane with her stuff. I felt
as If I were giving away my freedom, but I assured my self its only temporary.
"Hey, or shall I say Blessed Be." Jane greeted me happily.
"Yeah, Blessed Be, cool." I was about to say come on in but Jane already let herself
in, sometimes I wonder why I even try ! "So I don't need to give you the grand tour you
know your way around, right?"
"Yeah, uh huh, I'll go unpack." She went in her room and closed the door. I walked
towards the living room and then I heard the door open I looked back, she said "hey
Gwen, thanks." I smiled, knowing that everything will be fine.
Later that evening I was on my computer and it froze on me two times. I got really
mad. Its ironic earlier today I was praising technology, now I hate it! Jane walked by
saw me frustrated and asked "Gwen, you OK? Its a computer, why are you so worked
up?"
"I just got it 3 months ago, why can't it work straight, damn." I replied
"Use Magick." She stated so plainly as if she said it all the time.
"You can't just use Magick all the time Jane, things have to, work themselves out."
Baby Steps
by Selene Silverwind
SeleneSilverwind@aol.com
Michael, Mark and Adam sat on lawn chairs in the courtyard sipping their beers and
enjoying the warm pre-fall afternoon. "Mark, how hard is it to build a web page?" Adam
asked.
Mark peeled his attention away from the beauty of the trees peeking over the edge of the
building and turned to Adam. "Not too hard. Why?"
"Kyra has been thinking of starting a mail-order business. I thought a web page would
be a great way to run it."
Their conversation was interrupted by Marisa as she walked into the courtyard, a
backpack slung over her shoulder. "Hi, Dad," she called.
"Hi, sweetie. How was your group?"
"It was fun." She dropped her backpack off by the door and walked over to him.
"We talked about the Fall Equinox and learned a little about herbs."
"Is your group planning anything?"
"Yeah. We were invited to participate in the main ritual at Pagan Pride Day. I need
you and Mom to sign my permission slip."
"Shouldn't be a problem," Adam said, grinning with pride that his daughter was already
working toward tolerance.
"Cool. Thanks, Dad."
"Mom's making chili. It should be ready in a minute. Why don't you go on inside?"
Never one to miss her mom's three-alarm chili, Marisa ran for the door, leaving her
smiling father behind with the menfolk to continue his conversation.
"So, how extensive do you want this page to be?" Mark asked.
"Hadn't gotten that far in the thinking yet. An explanation of how she makes her
products and what they are, a few pictures of them...oh, and online ordering."
"I can do that. I know some servers who provide merchant accounts."
"We already have one of those."
Adam's apartment door closed behind them as Marisa went inside and Kyra came out.
"One of what?" she asked.
Surprised, Adam turned to look up at his wife. "Mark has some good ideas about the
page. I'll tell you about them later. Did you hear about Marisa's plans for Pagan
Pride Day?"
"She told me last week. It sounds fine to me. I have a booth there anyway. But first,
the chili is ready."
"Sounds good," Adam said, getting out of his chair. "You up for chili Mark?"
"Always." Mark stood to follow Kyra and Adam inside.
"How about you Michael?" Kyra asked.
"No, thanks. I want to enjoy the sun a little longer."
"Hope I'm not meddling, but I could bring you a big bowl for your date with Beth
tonight."
Michael was surprised she knew about that. "That would be great actually. Thanks."
Kyra went back inside and Michael suddenly itched for a new kind of company. Setting
down his beer, he got up and dashed up the stairs to Beth's door and knocked.
She called for him to come in and he entered to find her sitting at a low table,
sculpting the statue of Brighid she had sketched the week before. He smiled as he saw
her hands covered in clay and images of the love scene from "Ghost" flashed through his
mind.
"Hey, I like a woman in white."
Beth laughed and got up from the table, moving into the kitchen to rinse her hands off.
"Not studying today?"
"No. Decided to take a day off. I needed it." Michael joined her at the sink,
wrapping his arms around her waist. She tilted her head back and he dropped a greeting
kiss on her lips.
"Understandable. I would if didn't have that piece due next week." She reached around
him and grabbed a towel to dry her hands with.
"I hope you'll have it done before next weekend."
"I'd better. It's due Thursday. Plus, my coven has a booth at Pagan Pride Day."
"Seems like the whole town is going to be there. Kyra has a booth too."
"You're coming aren't you?"
"I'd better if I don't want to be evicted!" he joked, then leaned in to kiss her again.
Their lips met in a burst of excitement and Michael struggled against his urge to lower
her to the kitchen floor. They were still taking baby steps in their new relationship
and Michael was not the kind to push her to go faster. He pulled away before desire
overcame him. "I'd better go. There's a pile of dishes in my sink that need putting
away before tonight."
"Okay. What did you rent?"
"Frankenstein. Hope you like scary movies," he said with a wink, then turned and
trotted out of the apartment before she could respond.
After lunch, Mark left Kyra and Adam's apartment as Gary entered the courtyard carrying
a large file box. "Is that what I think it is?" Mark asked.
Gary nodded, hefting the box. "Mind helping me triple-check them?"
"No problem." Mark let Gary into his apartment and Gary carried the box directly to the
kitchen table. He opened the lid and pulled out the first batch of petitions to save
the beach. Mark sat down across from him and grabbed a second stack. "You know I could
have written a program to do this.
"Yeah, that would've been a good idea had we known we'd have to count the petitions this
many times."
"Why are we doing this again? I thought you had the injunction."
Gary sighed. "We do. But the judge doesn't believe this many people care. He wants
the signatures checked for doubles again."
"Why is he backing the loggers?"
"Who knows?"
"Think this will convince him?"
"I hope so. Can you think of anything I haven't?"
"Kyra told me she's got a booth at Pagan Pride Day. I'll bet she'd let us put a
petition and flyers in her booth."
The sound of kids yelling drifts through the window and Mark looked outside to see
Marisa playing tag with Andrew and Jennifer. Andrew was "it" and tagged Jennifer before
she could get to base.
"Hey, up for a game of tag?"
Gary glanced up, smiling as he caught the hinting look in Mark's eyes. "After we finish
this."
"Now there's an incentive."
Early on the Fall Equinox, all the residents of Kyra's building gathered in the
courtyard, weighed down by drums and other instruments, picnic baskets, and donation
items. Even Angela, James and the kids were attending Pagan Pride Day. It was Angela's
way of supporting her best friend. And her kids would never forgive her if Marisa came
home with her face painted and theirs weren't.
Adam corralled the men to help him load Kyra's van with her table and products, then
they all set out for the nearby college where the event was being held. They arrived
minutes later and Kyra went to find her assigned space. When she returned, Adam and her
tenants helped her carry her wares to her spot in the Pagan Village and set up her tent
and table.
Beth set down the box she was carrying, then turned to Kyra. "I wish I could stay, but
I have to help my coven set up."
"No problem. Thanks for carrying that."
"You're welcome." Beth turned to Michael. "I've gotta go. Come find me later."
Michael nodded and kissed her goodbye, then continued to help Adam unfold the tent while
Beth went in search of her coven's space.
An hour later, the event got under way and Michael and Marisa went to drop their
donations in the bin and see what was on the day's schedule. Marisa read the children's
activities schedule, then ran back to the booth. "They're doing face painting right
now. Can I go?"
Kyra smiled at her eager little Pagan and nodded. Jennifer and Andrew turned pleading
eyes on their mother. "Can we go, too?" begged Jennifer.
Angela looked down into the sweet faces of her young children, then to Marisa. "Do you
mind if they tag along?" Marisa shook her head no. "Then okay, but don't leave
Marisa's side." Before the last word was out of her mouth, the three children were
running hand in hand for the children's area.
"Is this okay here?" Gary asked, getting Kyra's attention as he set his clipboard down
on her table.
Kyra glanced over briefly. "Sure."
"Is that the beach petition?" Angela asked.
"Yep," Gary said.
"Can I have a couple sheets? I want to take them to work with me."
"I'll print some up when we get home," Mark said, then turned his attention to Gary.
"You cover the first shift. I'm going raffle ticket buying."
As Mark walked away, Kyra and Gary shared a laugh over Mark's inability to avoid buying
tons of raffle tickets, whether or not he actually wanted to win anything that was being
offered.
Mark ran into Michael and Beth, who were already at the table. "Hey Mark. We're going
to the tarot workshop in an hour. Want to come?"
Mark shook his head. "No, Gary would kill me if I left him alone in the booth that
long."
"We'll come cover the petition for you guys later," Beth said.
"Thanks." Mark handed his money over to the volunteer behind the table and received
back 50 tickets. "Don't tell Gary."
"We'd better go so we're not subpoenaed as witnesses," Michael said and took Beth's hand
to lead her away, once again feeling the sparks shoot up his arm. He was becoming
accustomed to those sparks, but he hoped they never went away. He gazed down at Beth
and wondered if the love blossoming inside him was showing in his eyes.
Beth looked up and noticed the emotion that was indeed there. She was starting to feel
it too, but the sensations made her nervous, so she chose not to say anything. She
wasn't quite she was ready to open herself up like that again. They went to the music
area and sat down to enjoy the first of many bands who were playing that day. Beth made
a note to have her band play the next year.
Back at Kyra's booth, the petition had garnered a lot of attention and Gary and Mark
were swamped by people wanting to sign it, which was good for Kyra, who was doing brisk
business selling her healing blends, with Angela's help in writing up the sales. To add
to the confusion, Marisa, Jennifer, and Andrew returned back, wearing beaded necklaces
around their necks, their cheeks highlighted with stars, suns, and rainbows, and the
skin under the paint flushed bright pink from excitement.
"Fairy houses!" Jennifer panted as she came around to the back of the booth.
"What honey?"
"They're going to do fairy houses now. I want to make one."
"Okay, well you three can go on back there, but stay together."
Andrew nodded seriously, taking it as his duty to lead the womenfolk, even if he was
younger than Marisa. Kyra noticed and the two older women shared a grin, then went back
to the people wanting to buy everything in sight.
After the band concluded their set, Michael and Beth went to the workshop room. Moments
later, the tarot workshop got underway and the leader passed out several decks, asking
each person to choose one that spoke to them. Beth grabbed a beautifully painted dragon
deck and Michael selected one featuring images based on mythology. The instructor asked
them to flip open the boxes, pull one card from the deck, and turn it over. She made a
practice of doing that each morning to get an idea of the energy of the day ahead. Beth
drew the 10 of Cups while Michael drew the Lovers card. They blushed and glanced over
at each other, each knowing that the card's meant true love and partnership without
looking up the definitions.
The workshop concluded just as the drum circle was about to begin and they hurried back
to Beth's jeep to get their drums. The drumming lasted for close to an hour, with all
the various rhythms flowing together, creating a beautiful, natural sound that prompted
many participants get up and dance around the inner circle.
As the time of the ritual approached, the rhythm began to mimic a heartbeat and the
participants took it as their cue to form a wider circle around the center. A troupe of
eight presenters entered the center and had the altar set-up in three minutes. The
drums quieted and the High Priestess welcomed the participants to Pagan Pride Day,
informing them that this was one of 70 other celebrations taking place that day. Cheers
went up and when the applause had settled, she spoke again, calling the children to cast
the circle. Kyra took a break from her booth and joined the circle in time to see her
daughter draped in metallic fabric, carrying a streamer on a stick, followed by Andrew
and Jennifer, and a rag tag group of children. At once, they began to run clockwise
around the inner edge of the circle and the adults cheered them on as they continued
around three times to cast the magic circle.
The children settled at the edge of the gathering and a woman stepped forward, musically
calling forth the elements with a conch shell, ankle bells, and a drum. The High
Priestess read the Charge of the Goddess and invoked the Goddess, then the High Priest
invoked the God. The brief ritual of thanks to the earth and the community continued
with a plea to bring tolerance and peace among all religions on the earth. The
participants shared cakes and ale and brought the ritual to a close.
Jennifer, Marisa, and Andrew ran back to the booth, still in costume. "Did you see us?"
Andrew crowed to Angela who had stayed behind to watch the booth.
"I sure did, sweetie. Did you have fun?"
"It was great!" Jennifer said.
Marisa giggled, then grabbed Jennifer and Andrew's hands. "We'll be right back. We
need to change."
Marisa led the two younger ones away and Kyra returned to the booth. "I hope you were
okay with that."
"I don't mind my children being exposed to other faiths. They should have all the
options. Besides, they had fun and got to play dress up. That's what they'll remember
most."
Kyra was delighted her best friend was so forward thinking and went back to selling more
of her wares. The rest of the day passed quickly and at the end of the day, all of
Kyra's tenants joined together again to help take everything down and headed home,
exhausted from the long day.
Michael and Beth went into her apartment and collapsed on her couch. Feeling emboldened
by the tarot cards they had drawn, Beth leaned over and gave Michael a long kiss,
letting her hand settle on his chest rather than his back.
Encouraged, Michael let one of his hands drift down to Beth's shorts-clad leg, enjoying
the way her skin felt. He parted his lips from hers and looked into her eyes to confirm
that this was acceptable to her. It was. Their kiss deepened and continued until their
lips were sore.
Beth parted their kiss and leaned back on the couch, realizing she was too tired to stay
awake any longer, but she didn't want Michael to leave. "Would you like to spend the
night?"
Michael hesitated, unsure what she was asking.
She quickly answered the questions in his pause. "I'm not ready for that, but we could
hold each other."
Grinning wide, Michael nodded. He would like that too. Beth stood and took his hand,
leading him out of the living room. He went into the bathroom to take off his pants and
t-shirt, leaving his boxers on, while Beth continued to the bedroom to change into her
cotton pajamas. After giving her a few minutes to get settled, Michael joined her in
her bed, snuggling down under the billowy comforter and spooning her against him.
Beth could feel his heart pounding against her back and wondered if he could feel hers
racing just as fast. She doubted she would actually manage to sleep, but it felt
wonderful to be held again.
Mewsings from The Ally
By Mystickally
It’s been an interesting time around The Alley as of late. This would be the reason why
there hasn’t been a Mewsings in a while! I apologize to you all for that. Lots have been
going on around here; First and foremost, the Pride has gone up in numbers! There are
now 26 resident cats in the house. I took in two males that are 5 months old now. I am
about to take them in to the vet to be tested for Feline Leukemia and Feline
ImmunoDeficiency Virus, as well as any other “nasties”, get some vaccinations taken care
of and of course, to schedule a neutering for both. Assuming they are both healthy, they
will be integrated with the rest of the Pride so that they can be properly socialized
and placed into good homes. I also took in a 9 month old female – too young to be a
mother, but with 4 kittens, all of whom are now a bit over one month in age. We took
them in as newborns (8 days old to be exact!) It has been quite an adventure!
I have had a lot of experience with newborn or orphaned kittens, but each case is always
an adventure. In this case, things were going fairly well. Other than the mother being
way too young to be a mother, she is also way too skinny and her babies are full of
fleas! They are still too young to be medicated, and the flea comb is helping somewhat,
but right now it still is a concern because fleas can cause allergies, worms, and
anemia, all of which can be quite deadly to a very young kitten. So far, the kittens are
doing rather well, so we are getting ready to take them in for their very first check
up.
Very recently, we almost lost one of the kittens though. He was doing wonderfully up
until that point! He was always running around and playing, then suddenly I found him
sitting alone, looking very disoriented and too weak to move too much. I found vomit
all over the place. I watched him closely for about 10 minutes before he started to get
weaker. He was fading fast, and I knew that we had to rush him to the vet ASAP! It
turned out that the little one fell victim to Fading Kitten Syndrome, which for the most
part is an unexplainable and sudden weakening and sometimes death of a young kitten.
Most cases are completely baffling. The kitten can be perfectly healthy one minute, then
all of a sudden, he’s off to a corner, sitting by himself, looking sleepy, tired, has no
interest in nursing, and having a rather distended belly.
I lucked out. My kitten had me there, being paranoid and watching his every move. Only
20 minutes earlier, this kitten was thriving and doing wonderfully. Then within only one
hour, he started to die. We rushed him to the vet and we found him with a tremendously
high temperature and some major dehydration. The vet kept the little one overnight for
observation. They hydrated him and kept him on a heating pad. 8 or so hours later, he
was perfectly fine again. They were amazed! He was jumping in his cage, climbing the
walls, and trying to get out. He was looking for familiar faces and when he didn’t see
us, he cried. They couldn’t explain it. This kitten’s name is now Silent Bob (any
‘Dogma’ or ‘Clerks’ fans out there?) He rarely lets out any kind of meow. He’s very
silent. But since his near death, he has become quite attached to Astartes and myself.
And his brothers and sister are Jay, Snoogans and Aneke (Anna-ka).
It really was by sheer luck that he has a Meowmy that is paranoid! LOL. But this is why
it is so very important for people to not allow their animals to have babies. Sure, they
are cute, but things like this can happen. You have to be financially prepared to handle
any medical emergencies, and trust me, there WILL be a few of them, and they WILL be
very costly! The babies will make it, and I am confident of it because I make my living
making sure they won’t live only short lives. ;-) This past summer has been an
incredible time for rescuers around the world, and in particular, my area on Long Island
and the 5 boroughs of Manhattan. We’ve all had an incredible time trying to keep up
with the many needy cats (and dogs!) in the area. Too many of them were having litters
and most of them were too young for it! Instincts take over, unfortunately, and age does
not play a factor in it. Young mothers lead to many more complications before and after
the birth. It’s a scary thing! So the moral of this story is please keep this in mind
when you adopt an animal. I’ve said it before but I feel it is worth repeating: get your
pet spayed or neutered! If you want to see what a newborn kitten looks like, drop me a
line! LOL I have pictures! Heck, I even have videos. My story was a happy ending, but
most other stories are not.
With that said, is there anyone out there that wants a cat? :-D
Elements of Norse
Shape-shifting
By Odhinn
The mythologies of the world are rich in shape-changing characters: Greek mythology
exhibits such shape-shifters as Proteus and Erysichthon (Hamilton 418); Native American
mythologies provide such examples as the Iroquois story of the girl who marries the
serpent, (Campbell 195-197) and the Peruvian tale of Coniraya, the deity who assumed the
form of a bird (Bierlein 148); In Polynesian oral tradition, Maui changes himself into
an Eagle in order to steal fire (Bierlein 112). Scandinavian mythology is no
exception. In the pantheon of the Aesir, three deities, Freya, Odin, and Loki, have the
capacity to change shape. However, no other deity of the Aesir demonstrates any
aptitude for shape-shifting. What then, do only these three deities possess that
enables them to change form? The answer lies not in ability, but in deficiency. In
Norse tradition, shape-shifting requires the abandonment of one's self control; this
surrender of control manifests itself in various manners.
Effeminacy, in the stoic, masculine-dominated Scandinavian society, is generally equated
to a lack of self-control. The culture of the Vanir (Freya's original pantheon), being
earth-centered, possessed certain matriarchal elements. Also, seiðr, the magic of the
Vanir used to perform the shape-shifting ritual, has strong feminine elements. Finally,
there are distinctly feminine aspects of the characters of Odin, Loki, and, of course,
Freya.
Another manifestation of Loki’s, Odin’s and Freya's forfeiture of self-command is their
frequent lack of compliance with the power-centered ideals of the Aesir culture. This
lack of regimen, like their effimeninancy, represents, from the Norse perspective, loss
of self-dominion.
Finally, there are obvious influences of the giants in the characters of Odin and Loki.
These giants represent chaos, or complete disorder and loss of control, and
consequently, were far more widely capable of shape-changing than the gods.
The impassive Norse viewed negatively any loss of control. This largely explains why
Thor, who epitomized the Norse ideals of masculinity and power and was the sworn enemy
of the giants, enjoyed more worship and sacrifice than did Odin. It is also evident
that because Thor represents such masculinity, power, and enmity to the giants—all
antithetical elements to shape-shifting—he is incapable of changing form.
Unlike the Aesir who were sky-god deities, the Vanir are believed to represent an older,
earth-centered, culture. Like other earth-centered cultures, the Vanir had matriarchal
leanings; Frigg and Freya, who had their origins in this pantheon, were extremely
important deities in the households of the worshippers of the day. The culture of the
Vanir included rituals involving orgies, ecstasies, and sacrificial rites, (Davidson
126) and remedies which were natural or herbal and were learned through interaction
with nature instead of technological or scientific means. These rituals and remedies
were mainly ascribed to women. Although magic was practiced by men, wicce,
spâkona, and galdrakona, were considered far more expert than their male counterparts, the
wigerlere, spâmaðr, or galdramaðr. This female association put off most
Northmen, who considered
dabbling in these magical arts a doubtful and undignified undertaking (Grimm 3:
1038-1039).
Freya is generally believed to be the same as Gulleveig, the sorceress who came to the
Aesir as a hostage of the peace between the Aesir and the Vanir. She was a priestess
of seiðr, the magic of the Vanir, and trained Odin in this art as well (Turville-Petre
159). The earth-culture nature of Seiðr is evidenced by its reliance on a rapport with
animals. The practitioners believed this enabled them to assume animal form or other
disguise; a practice known as hamrammr (Pennick 120). Freya could transform by way of
her falcon-suit, (Davidson 117) and Odin could change into a wolf, horse, or an eagle
(Turville-Petre 61). Practitioners of hamrammr wore a girdle of untanned wolf-skin or
wolf leather for the purpose of transforming into a wolf. The berserks, followers of
Odin who receive their name from their frenetic abandonment of self-control were called
"wolf-coats" for the pelts they wore into battle (Davidson 67), and were believed
capable of changing shape (Dumézil 29).
Seiðr, like its host pantheon, the Vanir, had matriarchal correlations. The lead
practitioner was usually a woman and was called a volva. Often a large group acted as a
choir for the volva, who, like the oracles of Delphi, would fall into an ecstatic
trance-like state, at which point she could receive information about such matters as
the coming seasons, or the destinies of young men and women in attendance (Davidson
117). Although unequaled as a galdramaðr, Odin sought to learn the art of
seiðr. In
volva fashion, he "would lie as if asleep or dead" when changing shape (Turville-Petre
61).
The Northmen considered Seiðr, like some other forms of magic, distasteful due to its
feminine nature. According to Snorri Sturluson:
Odin had that skill—indeed he practised it himself—which brought with it great power.
It was called seiðr . . . . but this sorcery, when it was performed, carried with it
such effeminacy that it was thought shameful for men to have anything to do with it. So
its practice was taught to the priestesses. (Dumézil 28)
More than mere effeminacy, seiðr accompanied Ergi, or passive homosexuality, considered
the most despicable of all crimes to the Norse (Turville-Petre 131).
Along with being shape-changers, Loki and Odin were also sex-changers and there were
instances in which both proved to be bisexual, or sexually inverted (Turville-Petre
131). In the story of The Building of Asgard's Wall Loki changed his form, into a mare
in order to woo the giant's horse away, and later bore Odin's famous mount
Slepnir.
Another instance of implied effeminacy comes in The Theft of Idun's Apples when Loki
borrows Freya's hawk costume to retrieve the apples. In the Lokasenna (The Flyting of
Loki), Loki flings insults at all the gods at the table, specially Odin and
Freya. He
accuses Odin of not being “even-handed,” and chastises him saying he “once worked charms
and spells like a witch.” Loki goes on to say that Odin “moved amongst men in the
shape of a witch, a woman through and through” (Crosley-Holland 164). Loki’s
admonishments, generally considered to be true to myth (Turville-Petre 10-11), are a
stinging insult. To associate a man with witches was a gross affront. For instance, a
common slight of the day was to refer to a man as a "witches' kettle-bearer," that is,
one who demeans himself to carry witches utensils (Grimm 3: 1045-1046). For all his
accusations in Lokasenna, Loki contents himself with merely calling Thor a bully.
If Odin did not always meet the Norse ideals, Freya had a practically disreputable
side. According to Saxo she was put into a brothel and King Olaf in Flateyjarbòk pulled
her along at the tail of his horse. In The Necklace of Brisings, she clearly
prostitutes herself with the dwarfs for the necklace. Loki, in Lokasenna, says that she
strays at night like a “she-goat among bucks” (Davidson 122). Loki himself, of course,
frequently swayed from the ideals of order and control, and needs no introduction as a
shifty and ignominious character. The sometimes questionable three deities further
illustrates a lack of regimen which may be equated to the lack of self-command essential
to their shape-shifting abilities.
The giants epitomize lack of order and, consequently, were consummate shape-shifters.
They have often been roughly equated to the Titans of Greek mythology, and one might
assume that they represent a much earlier, probably earth-centered, culture. However,
unlike the Titans, there seems to be little evidence of any worship or sacrifices to any
of them (Grimm 2: 557). Whatever their origins, by the time the giants appear in the
Prose Edda and other writings of the period, there function seems limited to posing
opposition to the Aesir. Rather than resembling the Titans, they actually more resemble
the immovable obstacle of Greek tragedy, a contrivance designed to illustrate and
develop the hero's character. The obstacle the giants represent is disorder, or lack of
control, to the Gods attempts to bring about order and control. The chaos of the
giants, like the Chaos of Greek mythology, represents an entropy-like stage of
non-creation, which is the necessary ingredient in their capacity to change form.
In addition to Odin’s training in seiðr and the feminine aspects of Loki and Odin, these
two gods were also well suited for shape-shifting due to their strong ties with the
giants. Odin's father was a giant, and Loki was actually a giant whom Odin accepted into
the Aesir as a result of a blood pact between the two (Crosley-Holland xxix). Thor, on
the other hand, was, with few exceptions, the sworn enemy of all giants.
Thor epitomizes the masculine, power-centered ideals of the Scandinavian culture, and
was actually the most popular Norse deity. Although Odin heads the pantheon of the
Aesir, he did not always meet the ideals of control and order. His worship was small
and select; most of the tales about him come from the poets (he was the god of poetry)
(Turville-Petre 65-66). Thor was viewed as noblest and most powerful of the gods
(Turville-Petre 75) and his image stood in many temples of the period (Davidson 75).
Thor's popularity was in no small part due to his adherence to aforementioned ideals of
masculinity and self-control. If This manliness and stoic demeanor increased Thor's
worship, it equally limited his capacity to change form.
A comic, yet revealing, example of Thor's ineptitude at disguise or changing form comes
in "The Lay of Thrym," when the gods attempt to disguise him as a Freya in order to
retrieve Mjolnir, his hammer which the giants had stolen. Although it is not a
supernatural transformation, it is important to note that Thor's masculinity, i.e., his
appetite and his fierce eyes, belies his disguise; only the shifty Loki saves the day.
The feminine representation of Thor's changing form and his distaste for such practice,
although intended as comedy, nonetheless denotes the masculine perspective of the
Scandinavian audience. The message is that Thor, symbol of the manly Aesir culture and
bastion of order and strength against the chaos of the giants, does not possess the
"shameful" capacity to change shape.
Shape-shifting in the Norse tradition, then, is contingent on the relinquishment of
one's self-control. One manifestation of this is effeminacy, which the masculine Norse
related to loss of control. This effeminacy is evidenced in matriarchal aspects of the
culture of the Vanir, in the practice of seiðr, and in the characters of Odin and Loki.
Another aspect of loss of self-control was the lack of adherence to the power-centered
ideals of the Aesir culture on the part of Odin, Loki, and Freya. Finally, there is
the influence of the giants, symbolizing chaos and disorder, in the characters of Odin
and Loki. Thor, on the other hand, epitomizes masculinity, power, and enmity to the
giants and, consequently, possesses no ability to change form.
Works Cited
Bierlein, J. F. Parallel Myths. New York: Ballantine, 1994.
Campbell, Joseph. The Power of Myth. New York: Doubleday, 1988. New York: Anchor
Books, 1991.
Crossley-Holland, Kevin. The Norse Myths. New York: Pantheon, 1980.
Davidson, H. R. Ellis. Gods and Myths of Northern Europe. London: Penguin, 1990.
Dumézil, Georges. Les Dieux des Germains. Trans. John Lindow. Gods of the Ancient
Northmen. Ed. Enar Haugen. Berkeley: U of California P, 1973.
Grimm, Jacob. Teutonic Mythology. Trans. James Steven Stallybrass. 4th ed. 4 vols.
New York: Dover, 1966.
Hamilton, Edith. Mythology. Boston: Little, 1942.
Pennick, Nigel. Practical Magic in the Northern Tradition. London: The Aquarian
Press, 1989.
Turville-Petre, E. O. G. Myth and Religion of the North. New York: Holt, Rinehart and
Winston, 1964.
MEAGAN'S MABON
by Kathryn Dyer ©1996
Once upon a time there was a little girl named Meagan. She lived with her mommy and
daddy, her big brother Corwin and her beautiful cat named Starweaver.
It was a cool day. The leaves had started to change color. Meagan walked home looking at
all the pretty colors. She was wearing the new sweater that her Nana had made for her.
Meagan sighed. Her brother had gotten his cast off of his arm. But he still didn't seem
to want to play with her. Meagan wished that things would go back to being the way they
were before he broke his arm.
Suddenly Meagan saw a flash of color at the door to her house. She looked closer and
started running. It was her best friend Cindy! "Hey!" she called out. Cindy turned
around and grinned. "Guess what?" asked Cindy. Meagan stopped by her panting, "You
haven't got a cold anymore." Cindy giggled, "Yeah, but that's not all. My mom said that
I can go with you to pick apples at Jeremy and Sybil's farm!" "Yay!!" shrieked Meagan.
She and Cindy started jumping up and down and dancing around. She had been looking
forward to picking apples but it would be even more fun having Cindy with her.
Especially since Corwin wasn't paying attention to her.
The two girls went inside the house. Meagan's father smiled as they walked past him
chatting about how many apples they were going to pick. "My Nana said that she'd help
teach me to make applesauce and apple butter," said Meagan, "Then we can have them for
Mabon." Cindy frowned, "Which one is that?" They sat down on Meagan's bed.
"Mabon is
when we celebrate the second harvest." "Huh?" said Cindy, "I know that a harvest is when
you bring the crops in on a farm but I didn't know that there was more than one."
Meagan nodded, "Yeah, remember I told you how Lammas is the grain harvest?" Cindy
nodded. "Well," continued Meagan, "Mabon is when you harvest the fruit, like apples. And
then Samhain is when you harvest the meat if you eat meat. 'Cus you have to choose how
many animals you can feed through the winter." Cindy looked puzzled, "But we don't have
to do that anymore." Elizabeth appeared in the doorway, "That's right Cindy, but we
still celebrate many of the holidays that our ancestors did. But Mabon is also one of
the two equinoxes. That's a day when the sun is up just as long as it's down. But I
didn't come in here to lecture. Would you two like to come help me make cookies for
Mabon?"
The girls jumped off of the bed and went into the kitchen with Elizabeth. They laid out
the ingredients and began making cookies. They rolled out the dough and used the special
cookie cutters. They had a stag for the North, an eagle for the East, a lion for the
South and a dragon for the West. They also had a star, a sun and a moon. Cindy looked
through the rest of the cookie cutters. "Hey, here's an apple! Wouldn't that be good
for Mabon too?" Elizabeth nodded, "Yes, you're right. And we have a pumpkin cutter you
can use too." Everyone worked busily making the cookies.
Soon Meagan looked at her mother, "Mom? How come Corwin is such a grouch lately?"
Elizabeth set the timer and put a tray of cookies into the oven. "Well," she said,
"your brother is going through some changes right now. His body is changing and so is
his life. How he sees things. How he relates to people and what they expect of them. So
he has lots of stuff to deal with right at the time his body is changing which makes it
that much harder. You'll understand better when your body starts changing more. Try to
give him some space. Once he works things out he'll be able to be your favorite brother
again."
"He's my only brother!" laughed Meagan, "He'd better be my favorite!" Elizabeth smiled
at her. "I remember my cousin Lisa getting really weird when her body started getting to
be like a grown-ups," said Cindy, "I hope I don't get like that." Meagan nodded, "Me
too!" she said. "Well," said her mother, "it helps if you know what is going on inside.
And remember, you can always go talk to a grown-up, even if it isn't me or your father.
You should never try to keep everything inside. If it's inside too long it might burn,
like those cookies will if we don't get them out soon!"
Soon it was time to go to the farm to pick apples. Meagan and Cindy had a good time.
They were made the official apple inspectors since they were still too young to climb
the ladders. Sybil had even made them buttons to wear on their coats. They checked all
the apples for worm holes. The apples that didn't pass inspection went into baskets that
went to the animals on the farm. Some other apples had started to rot or had other
damage. They put these into another basket to go to the compost pile. When all the
apples had been picked they divided them up. Jeremy and Sybil got the most because it
was their farm, but everyone got at least some apples to take home with them. When
Meagan and Cindy got back home, Meagan's Nana was already there, ready to teach them to
make applesauce and apple butter. They worked so long that Elizabeth called Anna and
got permission for Cindy to spend the night.
The next day Meagan and Cindy carefully packed some jars of the applesauce and apple
butter for Cindy to take home with her. Elizabeth also let her have some of the cookies
that they had made. They were just finishing when they heard Anna's car in the driveway.
The girls rushed outside to put the packages in the car. "Hold up!" said Anna, "I've got
a few things in the car that need to go inside." In her car she had some pretty gourds.
Meagan hadn't known that gourds could come in that many colors.
She waved good-bye to her friend and went back inside with the gourds. It wasn't very
long before it was time for the Mabon celebration. Meagan put on warm clothes under her
robe. She helped lay out gourds and grapes and apples on the Altar and around the
Circle. She felt a little better after talking to her mother about Corwin and he wasn't
acting so weird either. Someone lit the candles and the Coven members began chanting.
After Circle was over Meagan wasn't very tired so she helped clean things up. But soon
she began yawning. It was time to go to bed.
She picked up Starweaver and went to her room. She got ready for bed and was just about
to snuggle under the blankets when Corwin put his head in the room. "Hey Sis," he said,
"sweet dreams." "You too," replied Meagan and she went to sleep. It had been a good
day.
A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: Gentle Readers, soon we will come full circle to the round of
another year. I would like your input as to choosing the Meagan stories for the next
Wheel. Would you prefer to see the traditional High Holiday stories, other Meagan
stories (such as those featured on my website http://members.home.net/kdyer/) or stories
about her brother Corwin (and if so, High Holiday or general?). Also, if there is a
particular issue that you would like to see addressed in a Meagan story, please let me
know at kdyer@home.com. Thank you! -Kat
My Friend The Tree - chapter six
By "T"
Police line-- Do Not Cross.
I could barely see the extent of the plastic tape through the rain. It looped around a
few trees all the way along the edge of the stand. I was standing there, getting wetter,
wondering how far around it went, trying to decide if I should cross the tape to visit
my friend the tree. I was thinking about the night before; the people who had parked
their Cavaliers on the side of the road, about the laughter, the fire, the cops. I was
ashamed at myself for laughing at the kids. I wasn't bothered by my leaving when the
cops showed up. Think about it, two cop cars, that far from the city, with their lights
off, parking to block in the kids cars. Can you say 'the cops were expecting
something'?
A stray thought crossed my feeble brain, if the cops put tape up then something a little
more serious than a party was going on here. They wouldn't tape for mere trespassing
would they? Enough speculation, I decided to go home, and come back in a couple of
days.
I drove by at least a dozen times over the next couple of moons, each time I saw the
tape was still there. I tried to find out who owned the property without attracting
attention to myself. Am I paranoid? Maybe. I prefer to think of it as experienced,
guilt by association doesn't need the 'shadow of a doubt' criteria. I had found that a
numbered corporation was the listed owner of that parcel of land, doesn't tell a whole
lot does it? There was nothing in the papers or on the news about any incident that
would justify having the tape up for that length of time.
Finally, one gently raining night, the tape was gone. The glow from the city was bright
enough to read in. I parked Dayen near the top of the hill thinking that the rain would
have made the soft-shoulder too muddy and slippery to park on an incline. I grabbed my
traveling bag, locked Dayen and walked down the hill. There was a path worn through the
grass of the hillside with lots of garbage scattered around the bottom, beer and
soft-drink cans, cigarette buts and empty packs, junk food bags, and paper napkins. It
looks like cops have been here alright.
I walked on the grass beside the pathway and up the hill. Have I mentioned that the hill
always seems steeper when there is no snow? When I got to the top, I could see where the
police must have congregated, finishing their coffees or whatever, before entering a
crime scene. Their boots had crushed wildflowers and seedlings. Did they care? On a
hunch, I walked a little way along the tree-line where the tape had been. Yup, as I
expected, I could feel where they had stapled the tape to some of the trees. Should I
take the staples out? Or, would that cause even more damage to the trees. I'll have to
ask someone.
I threaded my way through the evergreens to the vale of my friend. There was more
garbage here. I walked to the edge of my friend's roots. I could see where some of it's
branches had been torn away, the white of exposed wood stabbing the darkness. There was
a lighter patch of bark on it's main trunk I couldn't see what it was, but it looked
painful.
"Hello my friend, may I approach?" I waited, and waited. There was no sense of welcome
from my friend. As a matter of fact there was no sense of anything. It was a complete
withdrawal from our world. In a human I would call it catatonia. This worried me. I
decided to try something that might wake my friend. Wait a minute! I couldn't do that!
"T" I berated myself, "how could you even think of forcing something awake? Idiot!"
Ok then, making a protective circle couldn't hurt, could it? I put my bag down to the
south of my friend. There was a small tree on the east side of the vale. I walked over
to the youngster with my double edged knife held between my palms with my hands flat. I
said to this small tree.
"I have nothing for thee, except my thanks.
A dead twig I ask of you, to help my friend.
A dead twig I ask of you twice, I give part of my life.
A dead twig I ask of you thrice, I put away my knife."
My knife made a shallow cut on my forearm, beside all the others. The blood glimmered
dark, in the diffuse light from the clouds. I jerked my arm so my blood would splatter
on the tree.
"Blood is life, I share with thee.
A dead twig I ask for, from thee.
A dead twig I ask for, from thee, to help my friend, the tree.
A dead twig I ask for, from thee, life is blood I give, to thee.
I reached forward and touched a dead twig that was waving in my sight. I touched it and
it came loose in my hand. I used the twig to scrape the blood from my arm. When the twig
was covered I shook it so the blood would fly off towards the small tree. Three times I
said thank you to the tree, each time shaking more blood off the twig.
I returned to my traveling bag and got out some incense. Did I tell you I'm stupid
sometimes? From the smell, I realized that the last time I had used the incense I hadn't
put it away separated. Now, I couldn't tell which incense I was holding. It smelled like
the rose, iris and celandine combination I use at spring solstice, mixed with jasmine
and sandalwood. I hoped the purity of purpose would come through the miasma.
I lit the stick, and passed the twig through the smoke three times. I tried again
asking "My friend, may I approach?" Again there was no welcoming answer.
"May I do a protective circle?" A glimmer, a thread, the smallest tiniest teeniest bit
of an acknowledgement! "I can't make something that would force someone to keep away
from you. But I can cast one that would make selfish intent feel uncomfortable around
you." The smallest bit of agreement from my friend allowed me to begin. I closed my eyes
and gathered my energy. When I felt I was ready I began circling my friend with the wand
and incense held to the sky.
Silently I walked around my friend, concentrating on the purity of purpose from the
incense. Trying to build an insubstantial wall at the furthest extent of it's roots. I
completed the first circle and turned to face my friend.
I bowed and said.
"The circle of smoke,
hard in the sky,
guard you from
natures of fire"
I held the wand at waist level pointing at my friend and walked around again. This time
I concentrated on protection from those that could do harm without remorse. I finished
the second circle and again faced my friend.
I bowed and said.
"The circle of smoke,
abide in the air,
discourage those who
can harm without care."
The third and final circle was with the wand and incense pointing at the ground outside
the root line. I concentrated on those who's lives are ruled by selfishness. A line of
smoke fell to the ground staying in place like a guardian.
I bowed and said.
"The circle of smoke,
rest on the grass,
protect my friend,
from people so crass."
Since I was facing my friend from the south, I decided not to go any further around to
my favorite sitting spot. There was something symmetrical about starting and finishing
the circles from the south, it just felt right. I took a piece of live grass from
between my feet (thanking the grass as I lifted it) and tied the wand and the remnants
of the incense together. I bowed to my friend again and placed the bundle on an
east-west line, symbolically tying the three circles together.
I was exhausted. Maybe it was all that walking around the tree? I don't believe that
either. I sat down where I was, not that I had much choice, I couldn't have walked very
far without falling. I sat there breathing heavily, talking to my friend the tree. I
apologized for the bad rhymes and for not stopping the ones that hurt it. When I got my
breath back, I told my friend that I would come back tomorrow to clean up all the
garbage the cops and the kids had left.
I got up, said goodbye to my friend, and walked back to Dayen. I used some of the water
I always carry in Dayen to wash the blood off my arm before I got in. Wearily, I turned
Dayen toward home. On the way by, I looked at the amount of garbage on the side of the
road. I figured I would need two of the big green garbage bags to hold all the stuff.
Cops!
Dayen took me home.
T
Aug 2000 Gregorian
My Life
By DreamDancer
My Life was a long one, as things of this kind are figured, and a pretty good one as
well. There were ups and downs of course, but from my reckoning, more ups than downs. I
was generally happy and content. My life was good.
But alas, like all good things, the time had come for my life to end.
On a cold winters night, snow covering the lands and Jack Frost playing the part of an
artist on my windows, I had a great meal, nothing fancy, just good wholesome stuff, then
spent my evening by the fire, losing myself in mellow music. I think I must have dozed
off, sitting in my favorite chair.
I didn't wake up tho, leastwise, not in any way I'd done before. I opened my eyes to
find myself astride a golden pathway. A place I had never before seen.
I suppose I must have blinked, I can't really say for sure. I know I then looked around,
and then what I saw shocked me, probably more than anything ever had. There, just a
short distance from me, was a set of gates, pearly white gates. This couldn't really be
true, I couldn't really be seeing what I was seeing.
I didn't really want to, but I felt a strong need to approach these gates, and so I did.
As I drew closer I saw, just like in the stories, beautiful people flying about, for the
had wings, and looked to be beings of light. I thought I heard, but wasn't really sure,
some music or singing of some sort. Was it voices? Was it woodwinds and strings? Was it
the wind, blowing thru chimes, tho I felt no wind upon my skin?
I entered the gate, and then I spied, waiting just inside, a beautiful man in flowing
white robes. In his hands he held what looked to me to be a ledger book of some sort,
tho not like any I had ever seen. It was both incredibly large, yet only as substantial
as a hint of a breeze.
I'd had my suspicions before, but now I knew to where it was I had come.
The man looked up from the book at me, smiled a radiant smile, and said "I welcome you,
Michael my brother".
"Are you, are you Saint Peter? And this place, this place, is it really Heaven?"
"Well yes" he replied. "That is a name I am known by. And yes, this place is known by
that name as well".
"There must be some mistake" I said. "From all I know, from all I've read and heard, I
haven't earned any right to be here".
"Oh, you do belong here" he said. "We do not make mistakes here".
"But how can this be? I did not spend my Sundays in church. I haven't taken any sacraments. I did not pray to God every day".
"No, you didn't, did you?" he replied. "You spent your Sundays with your family and
friends. You helped your wife keep house, you taught and played with your sons. You
wished each night for peace, and for happiness and health to all you knew".
"Yes, that is true, but I was still far from church on Gods' day".
"No, but you would go to see sick relatives and friends, give them help and comfort in
their time of need. And when your sons were grown and gone from the house, you spent
many a Sunday, first at the Saint Agnes soup kitchen, then the later part of the day at
the shelter for women and children".
"Saint Peter, I have never gone to confession, to pay my penance and have my sins
forgiven".
"No you haven't" he said, "but you sat with others in need. You gave them your ear when
they needed it. You lent them your shoulder to lean on, and your strength to draw
from".
" But" I said. " I had sex, many, many times before I got married. I was weak and
couldn't help myself, but still the bible says I am a sinner for this, and I will be
honest, I am still not sorry for what I did. I enjoyed it".
At this he just chuckled. "God gave you desires, and made sex enjoyable for a reason my
brother. And, you never hurt anyone by your actions, you always took care that your
partner enjoyed it as much as you, and most importantly, you always cared about those
you lay down with, loved them in a way even. You think this is so wrong?".
"But the bible says" I started, but he cut me right off.
"The bible is a very good book, with many good notions in it, but it is a just a book
none the less. The writers may have been inspired by the feel of God in many ways, but
the book was written by people, not by God, and people are not infallible as you well
know. Besides, which version of the bible do you think you went against? Do you know how
many times it was re-written? How many times it was translated from one tongue to
another. Do you think that in all these things, there might not be some
misunderstandings and things not exactly true placed in this book?"
" That may be true Saint Peter, and even so, there is one reason above all others that I
know I have no right to be here. You see, I am not even a Christian. In fact, I am a
witch. Say what you will, witches have no place in Heaven".
As I finished saying this, I saw the day go bright around me. A feeling of warmth and
happiness spread thru me.
"And who is to say that only those who follow the Christian faith may go to heaven?"
said a voice which seemed to come from all around me, and from inside my heart as
well.
I turned and beheld the most awesome sight. There, standing before me was the Lord God,
the Father of us all. I could not help but fall to my knees.
"Kneel not before me my son. Instead, rise, rise and embrace me, for you are my son, you
are of me as much as I am of you".
I rose and rushed into his arms and clutched to him as he embraced me. With my eyes
squeezed tight shut, a feeling of peace and total love wrapped around me like a
protective cocoon. Now, at this point, I felt I really did belong in this place.
He ended the embrace and stepped back. I opened my eyes and gazed into the beautiful,
radiant face of the Goddess, our Mother standing before me where I had just been held by
God.
"Human beings have a saying, that you are created in Gods' image, is this not so? Well,
my children have many faces, and they follow many paths. All of those many different
faces are the same as my face, and all of the faiths and paths are one with me, and I
with them. I am your Mother, I am your Father, you are all my children and I am of you.
Welcome home my son".
I stood for a moment, not knowing what to do, what to say.
"You don't need to say a thing" She told me. Just be at home. Now, walk over and take
the path to your right and follow it into the green fields. Your wife Jenny has been
waiting for you, in that place you call the Summerlands".
DreamDancer
8-14-2000
