SECTION III - STORY TIME
Convictions, Abby - Mystickally
Listening for the Roar - Cryingdragon
Michael and Beth Chronicles -Selene SilverWind
Mewsings from The Alley - Mystickally
My Path - Arianne ShadowWalker
Samantha's Secret "CCC" Journal - Astartes
Tarot Journeys (Adventures in Self-Transformation) - Review by Susan Davis
My Friend The Tree, Part 2 - " T "
Ancient Mother - ArtuPhoenix
Dragon Circle - Vixen Deamantra
Wiccan Ethics Study - Brenna Fey D'Amaurot
Meagan's Ostara - Kathryn Dyer
Abby
Convictions
By Mystickally (mystickally@yahoo.com)
Abby had intended to spend the day in the university library and start on her most recent research
paper. Instead, she found herself sitting at a large table, and leafing through a thick textbook.
She couldn’t remember a time when she had been as bored as she was at that very moment. Abby had
tried to focus and concentrate on her work, but she found her mind wandering. After a few minutes,
she finally gave up. With a loud sigh, she shut the heavy book, blinked, stretched and began
looking around the room. It was a busy day in the library. Many of her classmates were doing the
same thing she was: either staring off into space, or for a select few, getting some actual work
done. As she began to gather up all of her belongings, Kat and Cal ran up behind her, huffing and
puffing. As they stopped to try to catch their breaths, Abby laughed and handed Kat a bottle of
water. She watched as her friend greedily ingested a large portion of the water before handing it
over to Cal. Abby started to ask Kat what the big rush was for. Kat stopped her, before she could
get out the sentence, by holding up a finger to Abby’s mouth. Kat had snatched the bottle of water
away from Cal and was drinking out of it again. After finishing off the drink, Kat excitedly began
her story.
“We just got back from the student center. There’s going to be a huge demonstration tomorrow!”
Cal interrupted, “A Graduate student was denied a fellowship even though he was the top candidate.
He also had his grant money revoked because he refused to hide his jewelry.”
“They accused him of advocating violence and being a pedophile.” Kat added. “One of the Theology
majors came forward and said that his research showed that the jewelry is symbolic of a lot of
satanic cults, blah blah blah. It was all a bunch of crap, but they won’t back up their story. They
refuse to share the details of their ‘findings’.”
Cal interjected, “Whoever investigated him found out that he is a Pagan, has been practicing with
the CUUPS for about 7 years, and is even an ordained minister.”
Cal and Kat went on to say that the person in charge of the investigation against the young man was
a Catholic Priest who happened to be the head of the Theology department at the University. The
Priest had refused to be associated with any University that allowed any Anti-Christian students
or organizations. “I wonder if this person realizes that there are a lot of Witches on campus,
like me, that just don’t announce to the world that they are Pagan.” Abby thought.
“There used to be an organized group of Pagans on campus.” Cal explained. “ It was a recognized
student organization here. Anyway, Father had them disbanded about a year ago and accused them of
animal sacrifice when they tried to organize an ‘Adopt a Shelter Animal’ and a ‘Spay/Neuter Day’
event.”
Kat explained, “He stretched the truth, but it was enough to get the media involved. There were a
bunch of stories centered on Witchcraft. They interviewed some wacky people claiming to be Witches
and it made things look REALLY bad. They never once interviewed the actual Witches that were
involved. The Priest made sure of that!”
Cal added that many of the Pagans involved with the whole controversy were still around campus, but
keeping a low profile in hopes of just getting through school and graduating. That is, until now.
While many of them had transferred out last year, some were still on campus, and those were the
people that organized the upcoming demonstration.
“I think we should all be there.” Cal stated.
Abby suddenly became very anxious. Seeing the expression on her face, Cal responded, “It’s going to
be a peaceful rally. I think every Pagan on campus has been asked to be there. Abby, just BEING
there will be helpful.”
“And I’ll definitely be there.” Kat added. “I may not be Pagan, but I do have a big problem with
inequality and organized religion beating down on people!”
Abby giggled at Kat’s comments. Kat was raised in a very liberal family. Her parents weren’t
hippies; neither were they Pagans, but they lived their lives and taught their children many of the
same values, as most Pagans believe. Organized religion was one of the many issues she and her
family had negative opinions about, so a rally like this one was something Kat wouldn’t miss out
on.
Joining the three friends were Mike and Shaene, who went right into the same discussion. The latest
news was that the Graduate student had been suspended. Everyone’s mood suddenly became sullen. No
explanations were given in regards to why the young man was suspended, or even how or why they
began investigating his religious background. Suddenly the idea of a rally took on a deeper meaning
and urgency. Cal began to pressure Abby into joining the rally and speaking up.
“I can’t even speak to you guys without stumbling over a few words! I have absolutely no social
skills anymore!” Abby exclaimed.
“You were one of the best Public Speakers we had in high school.” Cal pleaded. “You led our Mock
Trial teams to victory! You CAN do it!”
The next day, Abby managed to tuck her apprehension away. She and Shaene made their way towards
the large crowd, where they found Cal, Kat, Mike and Cailey standing together by a large water
fountain. Despite the tension in the air, the day was somewhat festive. The demonstration was being
held in the middle of the college campus, right in front of the large, dome shaped Student Center
building. There were large crowds of people just roaming the area, and a lot of them were wearing
typical Pagan garb – jewelry, ritual robes, or horned crowns.
They all greeted one another. Cal gave Abby a hug and then led her off for a private conversation.
Smiling, Cal said, “I am so glad you came.”
A tensed Abby responded, “Yeah well you know me. I always have to get myself into SOME thing.”
“Well for a while you never got yourself into ANY thing.”
Abby sighed. She knew Cal was right. It had been a year since she really did anything. For the most
part, she’d kept to herself, not concerning herself with anything or anybody. The year had been so
rough that rather than face life, she chose to live from day to day, concerning herself only with
what she had to get done, and ignoring the outside world.
“I’ll be fine, Cal.”
“Abby, no matter how strong you think you are, or how strong you used to be, things are different
now. And if you really are ‘fine’ you wouldn’t have hesitated coming today.”
They rejoined the group and attempted to go about their business. The group exchanged worried
glances but accepted their silence. They began to walk around. Shaene caught up to Abby, put his
arm around her, and asked her if everything is ok? Abby reassured him that she was fine, but Shaene
was not convinced.
“You guys worry too much.” Abby sighed.
“I got an email from Tim this morning.” Shaene announced.
Exasperated, Abby answered, “Cal has a big mouth.”
“Cal didn’t tell him; I did.”
Abby gave Shaene an annoyed look, but Shaene just shrugged it off and explained “I figured you
would need all the support you could get.”
“Shaene, the past is the past. Why can—“
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden commotion. A concentration of people was standing around
a makeshift stage, voicing their opinions very loudly.
The group of friends ran towards the crowd and found a few individuals in suits surrounded by a few
police officers in front of the stage. A man with short, dark hair was on the stage, speaking into
the microphone and directing his hostile words towards the suits, while many of those positioned at
the foot of the stage in front of him were supporting him with encouraging gestures.
The man on the stage was waving around a picture of an infant, saying, “Is this the face of an evil
force? Can you deny this innocent child the right to live and be happy simply because his parents
choose to raise him as Pagan, just because we regard plants and animals as sacred entities? My son
will be raised by loving and caring parents who choose instead to see God not as a man and not as
a woman, but as an entity that has both female and male aspects equally! He will NOT be abused! He
will NOT be unloved! He IS special. He IS loved! And none of you can ever tell me that I don’t love
my child, or care for my child!”
The crowd cheered the man on, while the suits have him escorted off of the stage. The Suits climbed
up on the stage and was greeted by boos and hisses. They tried to quiet down the crowd while one
man stepped up to the microphone and exclaimed, “We aren’t here to point fingers, and this isn’t a
case of religious intolerance. We have reason to believe that the young man in question has
participated in certain questionable activity, and this University will not tolerate deviant
behavior.”
The crowd reacted with questions. “Why are you avoiding telling us the truth? Why is this
happening?”
The man explained that they were not at liberty to discuss the facts of the case. The angered crowd
protested even louder. The Suit went on to say that the only proof they are allowed to discuss is
the fact that they have screened every applicant they had admitted into the school that stated
their religious affiliation as Pagan. Their research led them to their suspicions. Of what they
were suspicious the administration would not say specifically.
A collective, loud gasp erupted from the protestors. Abby got wide-eyed and a look of terror
streaked across her face. Cal and Shaene glanced at Abby, and then at one another, giving each
other worried looks.
The protestors screamed their disgust even louder than before, and attempts at silencing the crowd
were unsuccessful. Suddenly one of the suits pushed the other aside and grabbed the microphone.
“It’s not very difficult to make these accusations against you people. You’re all quite open with
your open circle orgies and homosexuality. Most of you are dysfunctional in some way. You were
either physical, verbally, and/or sexually abused, juvenile delinquents, or was raised as poor
trailer trash, or WILL become white trash. It prevents your brain from fully developing, so any
intelligence you could have is altered. The lowered intelligence is what draws you to Witchcraft.
Hexing and casting spells is your defense mechanism. It’s genetics and you can’t help it. That’s
why we are doing what we’re doing. It will be for your own benefits that your lifestyles are made
known, so that you can all get help. That is ALL.”
All the Suits left the stage. All of the protestors were red with rage, thanks to the comments
made. Abby and the group were flabbergasted. They discussed their disgust with the situation and
wondered what action should be taken next. Abby remained completely silent through the
conversation, but judging by the look on her face, she was livid.
Cailey was practically in tears as she began speaking. “What we need is someone that can argue
until he is blue in the face! Somebody that can argue our side of the case and not make us look
like infantile Satan worshippers.”
Everyone started talking at the same time, discussing what each person feels is the next step as
well as arguing about who is going to be the one to speak at the next rally. Abby was in deep
thought and remained silent throughout the discussion.
Suddenly she asked, “You’ve all been wondering about my past, haven’t you?”
Everyone looks at Abby with confused expressions on their faces. They all nod their heads yes.
“Well, it looks like you’re getting your wish. I’ll do it…”
Listening for the Roar
By Cryingdragon (Ian Springer)
itspring@voyager.net
My parents spent their honeymoon amongst the glitz and neon of the city of
Niagra, Canada.
Twenty-four years later I stood in the middle of the main drag at midday, happy to be visiting the
monument that contributed to my existence but less than thrilled to see the flashing lights and
talking statues. All I wanted to see was the water.
My sister and I walked down the path together. The water's rumble echoed against the dirt at our
feet. We walked past a garden and crossed the street to the railing that overlooked the falls.
There are two parts to the falls: the American side, which was across from where I stood, and the
Canadian Horseshoe Falls, where the water carved into the cliffs in a U shape to my right.
The wind snapped at my hair and brushed the ends of my flannel shirt. My teenage sister, Vanessa,
quietly watched the roaring liquid while I longed to know what it looked like a hundred years ago,
before the dams were built and the sidewalk paved. Despite the asphalt covering the edges, the
cascade of fresh water jumping through the vein of the Niagra River was beautiful.
Vanessa and I took pictures and walked along the path, smiling at the variety of faces we saw.
The sounds of Arabic blended with southern drawl, British English, Canadian French, Chinese, and
the language of nature's wet thunder were musical yet dizzying.
I looked over the railing again. In regular cycles, boats, all named Maid Of The Mist, floated
passengers in front of the American Falls and into the center of the Canadian Horseshoe Falls.
The boat rides were the oldest commercial attraction in Niagra, and the only attraction among the
hundreds of wax museums, haunted houses, and other tourist traps I cared to partake of. My parents
avoided the thirteen-dollar charge and instead relaxed on a nearby bench. I bought tickets and
descended the stairwell along the cliff in line with my sister.
The crewmembers passed out biodegradable raincoats, so everyone on the boat looked like blue
shimmery plastic. I went immediately to the front of the boat and ground myself into a spot near
the edge. After several announcements over the ship's speakers about safety and the history of
the Maid Of The Mist boats, the ship started off with a lurch. The American Falls, which we passed
first, was a sheet of frothing white dashing itself suicidally on the jagged rocks below. The
speakers chattered on about the size of the American Falls, the history of Luna Island between the
falls, and the fifteen-meter-wide ribbon between the Luna and Goat Islands called Bridal Veil
Falls.
I, however, was not listening.
I was transfixed by the rainbows that hovered at angles, deceptively solid in their sunshine-
spliced way. My sister and I stared as the Canadian Falls approached and the roar grew. The boat
rocked and the two of us locked arms as the ship surged into the center of the U-shaped falls.
Sprinkles shot up from the water and fanned us on all sides. I lifted my head to stare into the
clouds of pouring white. Feathers from thousands of angel wings passed before my eyes, fluttering
from the tumble of an Earth river. My feet were on deck but I was floating, levitated by the wings
and roar of the messengers to the Gods.
The sound here was a thousand times deeper than it was above the cliff. It was as if both the
Goddess and the God slammed their fists against the rocks at the same time shouting "I will not
be ignored."
I did the only thing any romantic poet witch would do. I cried. Sobbed, to be more accurate.
I lowered my poor fool head to my sister's blue, plastic-covered shoulder, managed the words "It's
so beautiful," and cried. I lifted my quivering face long enough to see my confused teenaged
sister say "It's all right." Her wide eyes and tilted head showed a mixture of concern and
mortification. I drew in a great breath and held back. I wanted to make sure I caught the last
few moments of the tumbling feather symphony and confetti-tossed rain, but mostly I was ashamed
at being the only one around who had burst forth with such emotion. I looked just above the Maid
Of The Mist ponchos at a young Asian couple, who looked away. Others smiled the crooked bicycle-
handle smile that said "Oh, how cute." Some averted their eyes, as if ashamed.
I hardly remember the pull away from the falls. We walked off the boat in silence. I wasn't
entirely sure I could remember how to speak, and I was in no mood to try.
Railings at the foot of the cliff corralled the land-bound crowd toward the elevators. I stepped
through an open space and walked to a rocky area about 25 or 30 meters
across the river from the base of the American Falls. Vanessa followed.
"I'm going over here," I managed. I found a tall place on the rocks facing the falls and sat to
meditate. I looked to the sky above the falls to see Grandmother Moon
smiling down at the waters. I smiled back, closed my eyes, and listened to the roar. I let the
sound swell up through my body, up from the vibrations in the Earth and down from the vibrations in
the air until my heartbeat pulsed with the flow. I began working my way deeper into the sound,
into the wetness of the blood in my veins and the streaming of spiritual electricity through my
body and mind, but there were distractions. A couple was talking and taking pictures. The eyes
of sightseers were roaming everywhere. "C'mon. Mom and Dad are gonna be pissed," my sister
called.
The muscles in my forehead tightened. How could I explain to her, to my family, to any of these
strangers the surge of fading love energy I was trying to keep hold of? I would have to wait
another two days before I could discuss this with my Pagan friends, who had at least a remote
chance of understanding. I put my right palm down flat to the ground, both to feel the strength
and to keep me from clenching it in frustration. I breathed in a clear breath.
"Go up if you want. I'll be there." I shouted back.
I took another look at the water and the moon, muttering Migwetch (Ojibwe for thank you) to the
powers that be. I dusted my jeans off. The river calmly lapped at the land. I walked down from
the taller rock and touched the water. It is perhaps a Cancerian trait of mine, but whenever I
see a beautiful waterway I am compelled to touch it. Had I more time I might have taken my socks
and shoes off and stood crab-like in the shallows. The river was calm, with only a slight stirring
despite the fact that half a football field away was a torrent of unstoppable force against
immovable objects.
"Ian, c'mon. We gotta go. Mom and dad are probably wondering where we are and I'm hungry."
I turned to look at my sister for the first time in how long? Fifteen minutes? A half hour? I
looked at my watch but its bold declaration of 5:36 P.M. didn't tell me when we started our journey
to the Maid Of The Mist ride.
"OK, just a minute," I said.
I put my hand under the water and felt for loose rocks. A jagged grey rock presented itself to
me. I rubbed it with my thumb, taking note of its bumpiness and broken-shard nature. The whispy
bands and brown spots led my untrained geologic eye to proclaim it sedimentary, perhaps granite. I
rubbed water from it, thanked the Goddess and the river, and stuffed my gift from the spirits into
the pocket of my jeans. I would return to the falls later to sprinkle incense leaves in thanks for
the prize.
"I'm coming," I said, standing and walking toward the teenager with her fist on her hip.
In the elevator shaft I held the rock tightly and sometimes held my breath twice as tightly. I
repeated to myself that it was OK that the cement was here, that no one else was as emotional as
I was, that they all saw beauty in different ways than I, but I didn't believe me.
When we found my parents all I could release in response their concerned expressions was an "I'm
OK." My sister told them "He had a religious experience," in a bored monotone voice as if I'd
stubbed my toe or bit my tongue. I rubbed the Niagra rock I always keep in my pocket with my
thumb, and listened for the roar.
Mike and Beth
Morning Comes Alive
Selene Silverwind
Slvrwind@aol.com
The morning sunlight streaming through the window stirred Beth awake. She opened her eyes to find
herself staring at the ceiling of her new apartment. It took her a moment to remember where she
was, but she smiled when she did. She rolled onto her feet and padded toward the bathroom to start
her day.
A half an hour later she was showered and dressed in a light jogging suit. She opened her magickal
picnic basket of altar materials, hunting for her traveling Witch kit she had mistakenly packed at
the bottom of the basket. With a grin, Beth uncovered the small wooden box and set it on the floor
beside her. She turned to face out her east window and set the box on the sill. She flipped open
the cover, removing a tiny candleholder and a small birthday candle, which she set on the sill next
to the box. Next, she took out a short stick of incense and round incense holder. Finally she
plucked a tiny Goddess pendant, God pendant, and pentacle pendant from the box, setting them at
the back of the sill, behind the candle and incense.
With a flick of her lighter, Beth lit the birthday candle and the incense, waiting for the sweet
scent of sandalwood to drift up to her as she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, letting
her mind deepen into a trance state for her morning meditation. As her mind quieted, she released
all thoughts that came to her. When her mind was a blank canvas she asked the Goddess to send her
an image for the day. She received an image of a blazing sun and knew that it would be a good
day.
After a rapid series of sun salutations she had learned in her college yoga class, Beth moved into
the kitchen to prepare a cup of tea. Remembering the teacup Kyra had left with her the night
before, she returned to the living room and scooped it up, wanting to wash it before she returned
it.
Down in the inner courtyard, Anacati was approaching Kyra, who was tending her plants. "Morning,
Raven," Anacati called as she made her way over to the patch of herbs Kyra was taking cuttings
from. "And what a glorious morning it is," Kyra said, breathing deep to capture the fresh morning
air.
Anacati knelt on the grass beside Kyra and bent to sniff the thyme. "Mmmm. I love the smell of
your herbs," Anacati said with appreciation for her pleasant living space.
"Thank you. So do I. Do you need anything?" Kyra said, holding her scissors at the ready for
whatever Anacati might need.
Anacati thought a moment, "Let me check when I get to the office and I'll give you a call."
Anacati stretched onto her feet. "Oh, I met the new tenant."
"Wonderful. I thought she'd meld well with us. I've decided to have a dinner for her on
Thursday." Kyra chuckled, reminding herself that she shouldn't be so quick to plan other people's
weeks. "I suppose I'd better check with her on that."
"Count me in. Only a fool would miss one of your meals," Anacati said with a titter as she began
to move away from Kyra toward the carport in back of the building. "Walk in peace!"
"Blessed be," Kyra called back, turning back to her herbs and starting to cut another branch,
whispering "Thank you," under her breath as she snipped off a sprig of fresh lavender. Kyra worked
quickly as she took cuttings from several herbs in her garden and set them in her large basket.
When she heard another apartment door behind her closing, she glanced around to spot another
tenant, Mark, locking his front door. "Well Mark, you're up early today."
Mark laughed as he turned away from his door. "Yeah, it's so unlike me. But I have to go see a
client about a website."
"Business is going well then?" Kyra asked as she stood to brush grass off her knees.
Mark left his door, stopping near her on his way to the carport. "I'm getting really busy. I'm
doing a lot of internal systems and branching out to more interactive sites. I hardly even have
time to see Gary anymore."
"Well I'll tell you what... I'm having a dinner on Thursday for Beth, the new tenant. Why don't
you bring him?" Kyra suggested as she picked up her basket and garden scissors and moved with Mark
toward another area of the yard.
Just as Kyra was setting her basket on the ground, another door in the small building opened and
Kyra's husband, Adam, and her daughter, Marisa, came out of their apartment and made their way
over to Kyra and Mark. Marisa, never one for shyness, shouted out a greeting. "Morning Mark!"
"Hey Marisa," Mark said to the eleven-year-old. "How's school?"
Marisa bounced toward Kyra, tugging her mom into a hug. "It's great. I can't wait for high
school!"
"Fear not, it'll be here soon enough," Mark said as Kyra shuddered at the thought.
Adam leaned down to kiss Kyra.
"A pity that. Bye honey. I'll see you after school. C'mon Marisa, we'll be late. Good seeing
you Mark."
Adam dragged Marisa away as she called out, "Bye everybody."
Mark checked his watch. "I better be going too or I'll be late. But yes, I'll bring Gary on
Thursday."
"Good. Be off with you then. Blessed be."
"Blessed be." Mark called as he followed Marisa and Adam out to the carport. As he went he
passed Angela Lewis, still in her nurse's uniform, as she straggled into the building after a
long night in the intensive care unit.
"Morning, Angela," Kyra said.
Angela stopped in her path to greet her best friend. "Morning, Kyra. It's such a delight to see
you here all the time."
"Thank you. You look awful. Rough night?"
"Code after code."
"Well, you go shower and I'll bring you up some tea later," Kyra said in her mothering tone.
"Thank you. I'd love that." Angela started to mount the steps to her third floor apartment. "Did
the new tenant move in?"
"Oh, yes, you should drop in on her soon. Almost everyone else has. And I'm having a dinner for
her Thursday. Can you and James make it?"
Angela shook her head. "No, the kids are having trouble with homework, so we really like to be
focused on them between our shifts." With that she continued up the stairs. Kyra turned back to
her cutting and stifled a grin at the familiar scene about to play out. Within a few seconds of
Angela shuffling into her apartment, her husband, and her two kids, 9-year-old Andrew, and 7-year-
old Jennifer, emerged from the apartment. James was already wearing his police uniform and pulled
the kids swiftly down the stairs. They waved to Kyra as they passed and she waved back before
returning to her cutting.
Beth peeked out her apartment window and, seeing Kyra alone, picked up the cup she had just washed
and made her way down to join Kyra on the lawn.
"Good morning, dear," Krya said as Beth approached.
"Morning. How did you know it was me?"
"Everyone except Michael has left, and he has a much heavier walk than you," Kyra explained with
a smile.
Beth laughed and extended the teacup. "I wanted to return this. I washed it for you."
Kyra reached up and took the cup from Beth, nestling it down among her herbs. "Thanks. You
didn't have to."
"Thanks again for the tea. It put me right to sleep."
"Good, I'll give you a fresh canister on Thursday."
"Is that when you make your tea?" Beth asked.
Kyra chuckled again. "Actually, no, but I'm hosting a dinner party to introduce you to the
building on Thursday. I hope you'll join us."
Beth felt herself grow flush. No one had ever done something so considerate for her. A wave of
familial love rolled through her as she looked at her landlady. This really was a family. "I'd
love to. That's so sweet."
"Oh, it's nothing. Just arrive at 8:00 for dinner."
"Can I bring anything?" Beth asked.
"Just yourself," said Kyra, rolling to her feet and brushing off her knees again. She reached
down and lifted the basket. "Now, I need to get these inside and prepare them while they're still
fresh," she said, turning toward her unit. "See you Thursday," she said as she moved away.
"You sure will," Beth called out after her.
After Kyra had entered her apartment and closed the door behind her, Beth stayed in the middle of
the inner court, surveying her surroundings. She had just bent over a patch of lavender to absorb
its sweet aroma when she heard another door open above her. She jumped back reflexively and spied
Michael coming out his door with a book in his hand.
"Morning," she said, blushing a deep red at the sight of him.
Her welcome was greeted by Michael's warm smile as his heart skipped a little beat to see her
again. "Morning. You're up early."
"I've always been a bit of an early riser. Are you off to school?"
"No. I like to do some reading on the lawn every morning. It helps me start my day off right,"
he said as he went to a small storage closet near the lawn and twirled the combination. He popped
the lock and opened the door, sliding out a lawnchair. "Care to join me? There are plenty of
chairs in here," he said.
Beth considered it for a moment. It might be nice to spend more time with him, get to know him a
little better, given the way her blood rushed through her veins whenever she was around him.
"Yeah. I have something I need to paint," she said. "I'll be right back."
As Beth turned and moved up the stairs to retrieve her painting supplies, Michael grabbed a second
chair and carried them both to the lawn, a broad smile filling his face. He settled into one of
the chairs and flipped to the place he had left off, although he could scarcely focus on the text
as he awaited the return of Beth. He didn't have to wait long. She was back in a few minutes with
an easel, canvas, and art supply box, which she set out next to her chair. Like an old married
couple, they sank into quiet comfort as Michael read his book and Beth painted, pleased by the
company they were keeping.
After setting her herbs out to dry, Kyra stepped back out of her apartment to visit her best
friend. She was surprised to see Michael and Beth working side by side already, but was pleased
at the friendship blossoming between her two youngest tenants. She slipped silently by the pair
and dashed up the stairs to Angela's unit.
Angela was just stepping out of the shower when she heard the familiar knock at the door and knew
that it must by Kyra with her offer of morning tea. Angela swaddled herself in her robe and padded
out to the living room to let Krya in. "You're early," she said as she cracked open the door.
Kyra smiled and popped her head into the door. "Can you forgive me?"
Angela sighed deeply. "Well, I suppose," she said as if Kyra was asking for a great imposition
and opened the door of the rest of the way. "What did you bring this morning?"
"My cinnamon/orange blend to perk you up," Kyra said, holding up her tea basket.
"Mmmm, sounds delicious. Come on into the kitchen, I'll put on the kettle."
The old friends walked into the kitchen for their morning chat and Kyra settled at the table as
Angela filled a ceramic teapot with water. "How did the discussion with James go last night?" Kyra
asked.
Angela shook her head as she set the teapot on the burner. "Oh, you know him. He says we can't
afford it. I remind him of the money we have saved, but he's still not ready to budge."
"Well, I know how much you want it, I'm sure it will happen," Kyra said, attempting to reassure
her friend that her dreams of owning a home would come true.
"Any help you could provide in that area would be great?" Angela said, referring to Kyra's magickal
abilities.
Kyra cocked an eyebrow and wondered if she had heard right. "Are you sure? You never wanted me
to do anything before."
Angela settled at the table across from Kyra with a plate of muffins. "Yes. I've decided to think
of it as another form of prayer and I'll need all the prayers I can get to make this happen."
Kyra was thrilled that Angela had taken the last step in accepting her ways. "In that case, I
have something in mind already."
Gratitude flooded Angela's features. "Thank you so much," she said. The kettle whistled and
Angela scurried over to the stove to pour them each a steaming mug of water for the tea. She
handed the mugs to Kyra who dropped a mini-infuser into each cup to steep in the flavor.
"Anything new on the beach?" Angela asked as she dove into her cranberry muffin.
"Gary is still working on the injunction and we're organizing a protest," Kyra said.
"Good luck with that. The last thing we need is another concrete monstrosity on our sand," Angela
said and took a sip of her tea. "Mmmm, delicious as usual."
Kyra glanced at her watch. "Oh, Anacati should be at the office now. I'd better go check my
messages," Kyra said as she stood and picked up her mug. "Thanks for muffin."
"You're welcome. Enjoy the dinner Thursday. Does she know?"
"Not yet. I think she'll figure it out soon though."
Angela smiled at Kyra's mischevious grin. "Ooh, you'll have to let me know what happens."
"Don't worry, I will," Kyra said as she let herself out of the unit and thoughts of the dinner to
come consumed her. She hoped it would go as well as planned, but she knew she shouldn't worry.
Things always did.
Mewsings from The Alley
Mystickally (mystickally@yahoo.com)
…If you ever need any advice on your kitty (or any other animal for that matter!) please don’t
hesitate to email me. I will be more than happy to answer any and all questions…
Many people scoff at how many cats I own (the correct phrase would be ‘how many cats own me’!) I
admit that 16 is a rather large community of cats. As a feral cat rescuer, this is a job “hazard”,
but it is also a labour of love. I rescue these babies out of my own pocket, and I wouldn’t change
a thing about it. Adult cats are much harder to find homes for, and kittens are much harder to
save. I started off with 2 cats and ended up with 16 of them, plus 2 dogs and 2 guinea pigs! LOL
When people ask me if I am insane, I usually have to stop and think about the question a little
bit. Well, I love doing it and I’d like to think that I am very good at it. Not very many people
can (and would) rescue an animal, nurse it back to health AND fit the bill. I can’t help it – I’m
whooped! So you can imagine my reaction recently when I found out a “colleague” was recently outed
as a negligent rescuer.
I am a part of a rather large community of feline lovers. We’re all like family! We support one
another, we vent about everything to each other, we share rescue stories and attempts, and just
as equally, we share our losses. When one member of the community is having trouble with her cat,
we band together to help out as much as we can. We pull our resources and send this person money,
or we help to find homes. We’ve handled cross-country placements plenty of times!
On a rare occasion, we find a bad seed. This particular person is thought to have 4 cats and many
dogs. Suddenly there were witnesses to this person’s negligence. She kept a very unsanitary
environment for her animals as well as abusive conditions. It was overall an unhealthy environment,
both for the animals and for her. This information was brought to my attention by a very reliable
source because I happen to run a newsletter for the community. I took a few days to decide what
to do with the speculation before I finally brought it to the attention of the moderator of the
community. It was a tough call. On one hand, this person claimed to be a rescuer, and whether her
intentions are good or not, any animal that might come across her could be in danger. On the other
hand, this information is all speculation, and OUR feline community had never encountered these
problems. So, what are we to do?
I was furious when I was given this information! Rescuers have a hard enough time being taken
seriously without this one bad seed. My first reaction was to ask that this person be banned and
removed from the community. Then the diplomat in me (lol) thought “well, we personally haven’t
had any problems with this person. Is it really fair to judge her without having first-hand proof
that she is a bad rescuer?” Then again I thought “but why should we wit around for something bad
to happen? Should we really take that big of a risk?” All this went through my head and gave me
the biggest migraine!
Ultimately, the decision was not mine to make. I was only given the option of releasing her of her
newsletter position (she is one of my writers.) The decision was that she would not be removed from
the community, but watched very closely and banned from any rescue activity. Let’s hope all this
is speculation, OR that our attempts at keeping her away from any activities work. My biggest fear
is that another animal will be abused or neglected if left in her care. The entire community
doesn’t know about this situation (for fear of flame wars by us “higher ups. <giggle>) but if
we had acted hastily and had told everyone, I guarantee there would be an uproar, and this woman
would be bombarded by flame wars. (See why it was kept secret?) I’m still worried about the whole
situation, but the most I can do is keep an eye out for any trouble, and try to convey to the
world just how important it is to help animals in danger – AND to emphasize that it is NOT an easy
task to do so!
First thing that comes to mind: are you financially capable of funding these rescues or fosters?
If you are lucky, there will be an organization nearby that can help relieve you of the financial
burden (or do the rescue themselves!) Chances are, you’ll be on your own, and I guarantee that if
you call a shelter or animal control, you will either be led to believe they will rescue the animal
(s), or they do come by to pick them up just to put them to sleep. Most people turn a deaf ear. If
you’re like me, you take matters into your own hands. That means catching the animal (if the animal
doesn’t just come p to you, you’ll need to find a humane trap), and getting the animal to the vet
(for an examination, tests for diseases, spay/neuter <or speuter, as most rescuers call it,>
and vaccinations.) If it’s a cat, expect to spend at least $300. It’s a lot of money to do what I
do! LOL. It’s a challenge and very fulfilling, but again, it’s not easy.
The second thing that comes to mind is do you have the space to keep the animal, even if it’s for a
short time? Before my recent move, Astartes and I lived in a 3 story house. Aside from the two
bathrooms, the kitchen, and the bedroom, the rest of the house was free for the cats! Now, we all
live in a large basement with barely enough room for our temporary situation. Luckily we are still
in a position to care for them and still have enough room, but we haven’t done a rescue or foster
in a year. Space is something to think about! The animal you rescue should be kept secluded from
any other animal! For a cat, there are a lot of diseases you will never want to encounter. Immune
suppressing diseases such as Feline ImmunoDeficiency disease and Feline Leukemia are fatal. There
are other diseases as well, but those are the two that come to mind, and coming from experience,
it’s not an easy thing to deal with when caring for a FIV or FeLV positive cat. L
The third thing is you must (very important!) have PATIENCE. This animal may not be used to human
companionship. She may be frightened, and her first reaction is to be on the defensive. She may
attack you, hiss, growl, nip, or bite you. Don’t lose your temper because that will only make her
even more frightened. A lot of the animals need to be tamed. If you ever notice my reference to a
feral cat, what I mean is that the cat is not tamed. She is scared to death of humans. She will
more than likely react rather badly with you even being in the same room as her. You will need
time and patience in teaching and showing the animal that you are not going to hurt her, and that
you love her. Biscuit, my most recent feral rescue kitty, was lingering around my yard for about
a year. He did a great job of avoiding me though!
One afternoon, I happened to look out the window, and there he was on my front porch, chowing down
on the bowl of kibble I leave out for the feral cat community surrounding my house. I ran out to
see if he would come to me, but he ran away, so we left the humane trap out with some sticky,
smelly wet food inside. Not even an hour later, there he was, in the cage, screaming at the top of
his lungs! A closer look revealed the reason he came back: half of his tail was missing. There was
bone sticking out and blood dripping from the end of it. I rushed him to the hospital I was
working in at the time. He was in shock and needed to go into emergency surgery. We had to have
his tail amputated, and at the same time we had him neutered, tested and vaccinated. Well, Biscuit
tested negative for all diseases and his first year with us sure has been a challenge! He couldn’t
tolerate my presence for a very long time. I used to sit in a small room with him for hours at a
time, not saying a word and not looking at him (staring is considered a form of aggression).
My trademark is that I use musical therapy. While I sat in the room with him, I read a book and
kept the stereo on. My biggest obstacle was trying to find music that he liked. I tried classical
music (it made him violent lol,) then Big Band (he was bored to death,) and then several other
types. Finally I got bored and put on some Alanis Morissette and some No Doubt. Now, the whole
idea of the music therapy is to calm the animal. If you’re an Alanis or ND fan, you’d know that
their music is far from relaxing (well, to the average person. Personally, it soothes me
lol.)
Well Biscuit perked up and started purring. I continued reading my book and almost didn’t realize
the little guy had settled down next to me. It was several months before we got to this point
though. Many hours and many days of me sitting on the floor of that room staying absolutely silent
and letting Biscuit listen to the music, before he finally took the few steps to sit beside me.
THAT is why I do what I do. Nowadays, Biscuit still jumps at sudden noises and movements, but he
is very comfortable with me. He is taking a bit longer with Astartes (all ferals seem to be
scared to death of men. It must be the deeper voices and bigger bodies!) but he actually sleeps
with us, purrs, and lets us touch him.
Those are three things to consider. And if you are adopting a cat from a reputable rescuer, you
will have a happy, healthy and loving cat. A reputable rescuer will probably not ask for
compensation (for the care of the animal before giving her to you,) and that person will not sell
you the cat! After a few interviews and some paper work, you are given the cat. Also, the rescuer
will most likely ask that you keep her updated on the animal (OK, the rescuer will most likely
call you from time to time for a check up. LOL. We get very attached!) All we ask is that you
give your new furbaby a loving and protective home, and should you ever need help, advice, or for
some reason need to return the animal, please be sure to contact the rescuer. That person will be
more than happy to take her back. (Hopefully things will never come to that though! Besides,
you’ll be too attached to the little one to ever give her up!) Happy rescuing!
My Path
By Arianne ShadowWalker
Gracious Lady and Loving Lord,
I usually write poems only when bored.
But when things are confused and out of hand,
I have to speak and hope you'll understand.
In this proud country, everyone is free,
From the President to little old me.
No matter the color; red, black or white,
Each of us has inalienable rights.
People get upset over state versus religion,
Instead of unity we've got loads of bitchin'.
I'm not bragging or trying to gloat,
But misunderstanding just gets my goat.
Why do people go off in fits of pique,
When we invoke the right to be unique?
How we look or how we choose to dress,
Shouldn't offend, as we're not out to impress.
I've studied the Bible, Bhuddism and the Tao,
My paths are Native American and Wicca now.
I can hold my own in any religious debate,
I respect all faiths, I don't care to hate.
The Ten Commandments are a wonderful case in point,
But if I don't follow them, don't get your nose out of joint.
I follow what is known as the Law of Three,
All bad that I do returns threefold upon me.
My Path is looked down on, despised and spurned,
Its followers tortured, harrassed, even burned.
We're not so much different from anyone else,
We're using our right to be simply ourselves.
I may not agree with the paths people use,
But I'll defend to the death their right to choose.
So Lord and Lady, this prayer I do pray,
Let all clasp hands in friendship today.
Whatever deities we worship up above,
Let us follow their path filled with love.
I'm not a Satanist, I'm not a bitch,
I'm simply me, Ari....the witch.
Blessed Be everyone.
(c) Arianne ShadowWalker, March 1, 2000.
(FYI: A “friend” has translated these
Journal Entries into English)
Samantha's Secret "CCC" Journal
By Astartes
Journal Entry Number 1
--------------
I am beginning this journal as a direct order for the CCC High Command. This is to identify
potential information leaks and deal with them appropriately.
I guess I should introduce myself. The name the Humans have given me is Samantha, and I am
Lieutenant Major for the “Meer-ow-wow Mow-rrrr-rah” or, as the Humans put it, Conspiracy of Cats
Consortium. I am in charge of security for the Northwest Region of the United Stats of America. Our
race was given this planet to protect over four millennia ago and we have done it perfectly ever
since. The Humans are unaware of this, and we prefer it that way. We do not do this for fun or
profit, but because Humans are incapable of dealing with anything that the universe can throw at
them. Recently, as a result of several incidences (most notably Roswell, New Mexico) we have
recruited a sect of Humans we have dubbed The Men in Black. They are given knowledge of our mission
and the power to help us, but in return they cannot have any more contact with normal Humans.
Anyway, I’m going off on a tangent. This is about our current security problems in my very own
dwelling.
I have this Human, his Alias is Astartes, and he is responsible for the daily cleaning and feeding
of my Pride-mates and me. His mate, Alias Mystickally, also services us, but she is not our concern.
Astartes is getting too close to our secrets. He has started on a project he called “Cats: a Perfect
Being.” Initially, we thought it was a cute tribute to us, but it turned out to be more. I hacked
into his computer to read the final copy, and was shocked to find out what he found out. I must
contact the High Command and see what we need to do.
Journal Entry Number 2
--------------
Received conformation today about Astartes and his works. His mate seems to think it was a clever
little humour piece, and HE might think it was just his witty imagination hard at work, but this is
too close to the truth. High Command wants me to keep an eye on him. Reluctantly, I agreed.
Sat on his shoulder and cleaned his head. Humans not only smell bad, but taste worse. I would hate
to have to eat him.
Journal Entry Number 3
--------------
Astartes and his mate were published in an Internet E-zine “Cauldrons and Broomsticks.” Saw his
work distributed to Bast-knows-how many other Humans. Initiated “Operation Catnip” and had all
Felines see if any other Humans believed Astartes or not. He’s nice to my Pride-mates and me. He
knows exactly where we itch by some intuition we don’t recognize. ::shrug:: I hope I don’t have to
eat him.
Again, my Alpha and I (Humans call her Tabitha) sat on him to clean him. For some reason, he goes
into this small section of the room he calls the “Bathroom”, and has a jet of water cover him.
This does little to reduce the amount of odor and dirt that lurks on his body. We have decided as
a pride that for our continued health, we need to bathe him three times a day.
Journal Entry Number 4
--------------
Operation Catnip was a success. There were no reported beliefs of his story. He was either
considered very funny, or very weird. Either way, we won’t have to kill any Humans today. He still
looks at me funny.
Just a few minutes ago he yelled at me. “I know what you are doing, “ he said, “I know you used
Telepathy and Telekinesis to build those damn pyramids!” His mate then laughed and said he was
weird. I’m glad I won’t have to kill her. I just gave him my “Cat’s Glare” and proceed to bathe him.
It was my turn again. I hate voting about this. I always get voted down.
I think for my own sanity, I’m going to eat him tonight. I hope he doesn’t taste any worse than he
smells.
Journal Entry Number 5
--------------
Astartes keeps staring at me. I think he suspects something. I’m going to try a Cat Mind Meld with
him. It’s a technique pioneered by Feline Doctors named Spook and Vul-Cam. I hope he is intelligent
enough to be of any use.
I have sent a Priority One Alert to High Command. Astartes knows more than he lets on. He has
deciphered the meanings of the Egyptians, Stonehenge, and the Ley-Lines around Earth. If this is
just educated guessing, we cannot let him tell them to anyone else. We have to see if he has told
anyone else his findings.
The question of a Security Leak is ended. He is just a lucky Human who made educated guesses. I am
going to try and wipe his mind clean. I don’t want to eat him. Since this is not a Security problem
anymore, I am turning the Journal over to my Alpha and telling her to continue.
Journal Entry Number 6
--------------
Samantha said she ate him last night and that he tasted like chicken. She then hid his bones in the
canal behind the dwelling were they sunk immediately to the bottom. I took her word for it. She has
no reason to lie to her Alpha. His mate is grief stricken. I consoled her as much as I could, the
proceeded to clean her. She smells better than he did. Thank Bast.
Samantha has been acting strangely today. When I asked her what the deal was, she ignored me. I
pressed the issue and she told me, “Mind your own Meerow-hiss business.” She’s never used profanity
before. Hmmmm.
Journal Entry Number 7
--------------
Samantha has been grumbling under her breath all day today. It’s starting to piss me off. I put her
in her place and she told me to take it up with High Command. So I did. I’m awaiting their reply.
Mystickally is acting strangely as well. She looks at Samantha and me and has a crooked little
smile. I’m thinking of asking Samantha to eat her too.
I just got my reply and it pissed me off. They told me to mind my own business. Samantha looks smug.
I think I’ll sneak up behind her tonight and scare the living Rrrowl out of her. I’m glad she’s
partially blind. She’d be a heinous Rrr-hiss. otherwise. The only good thing was they asked me to
keep up this Journal and not to let Samantha know I’m reporting on her. I think that they think
Samantha is the “leak”.
Journal Entry Number 8
--------------
Mystickally is laughing at us. I know she is. She keeps getting secret phone calls and looks at all
the Felines out of the corner of her eyes. I think she’s up to something. Samantha looks royally
pissed at something too. I’m beginning to think she screwed something up. I’ll keep an eye out and
report my findings.
I hate kibble. Give me a nice, fat, juicy bird anytime. I try to tell Mystickally that a “Natural
Kibble Food” is still kibble. If you want natural, give me a colony of mice to breed for food stock.
I’ve had to discipline the Feline they call Onyx. She keeps stalking the poor Guinea Pigs in the
cage. She keeps staring at them and singing her “I’m gonna eat you little Piggies” food song. I told
her if she did that, we’d be out in the cold. She won’t listen.
Journal Entry Number 9
--------------
Well, Samantha and the High Command have screwed up major league. For some unknown reason, instead
of killing Astartes, they incarcerated him on the Mother Ship outside the Lunar Orbit. This of
course, led to his escape. Like any good spy novel, he is now on the run. I know he’s been in
contact with Mystickally. She still laughs at us. ::sigh::
Samantha is currently looking for Astartes. I’ll stay here and keep tabs up on
Mystickally. Someone
is gonna pay for this. I’m sending this file as it is. Hopefully we’ll find him before he does some
REAL damage.
(I intercepted this before I left. So what do you think? We should give this to C&B right? Viva
la Resistance! – A)
My Friend The Tree
Part 2.
By " T "
Here I am, driving along AT the speed limit. One of my rules is 'never break the speed laws where
one can be seen breaking them'. Isn't it silly tho? driving at 70
kph at this time of night? (that's 43.5 mph for those of you that haven't been forced to the metric
system)
It is, as usual, a beautiful night. How could it be anything else? I am filled with wonder at the
almost infinite variety of manifestations of nature (by whatever name one calls it). The stars are
wondrous, the winds endlessly varying, even snow storms with the swirling flakes each different,
fills me with awe. Three o'clock in the morning, the only traffic "up here" this far from the city
are the young kids party/driving, the cops out to get the kids, and me. I'm too old to be considered
a kid and I'm alone in Dayen (pronounced dane). What? you say that naming my car is strange? why?
After all I'm not the one that named et Dayen he/she did. Don't be confused by the ' he/she ' thing.
Sometimes Dayen is a real aggravating piece of machinery, and at others she, is the sweetest most
reliable vehicle imaginable. Sometimes Dayen seems to be saying, "c'mon lets go! Now! today! There's
no speed laws to obey!" But the very next day, he will cruise along as tho' there were no cares in
her world. Fickle piece of well built car!
I've driven along this part of road a few times over the past couple of moons, hoping, wishing, that
the big snow-blowers had been along. During the summer there is no problem parking, the soft
shoulder is big enough to park well off the road. During the winter it's a different story. The
paved part of the road, one lane each way, is kept reasonably clear of snow, but the shoulder (after
a couple of good snows) is a three meter (ten feet) mountain that starts right at the edge of the
pavement. There is no place to park, so I can't visit my friend the tree, and still have a car left
to drive back to the city.
This time, I'm lucky. The shoulder of the road has been cleared by one of the big snow-blowers. Do
you know the ones I mean? The mountain of snow left by the plows has
been cut in half vertically, leaving a three meter wall of ice and compacted snow. I decide to try
it. I slow Dayen and gingerly guide her onto the shoulder as close as I can get to the wall. Leaving
the engine running, and the lights on, I get out of the car.
Brrrrrr. It's cold. It must be -10c with the windchill, I can feel the warmth being leached from my
face and hands. My breath is a cloud that obscures the stars when I look up. There must be some high
wispy clouds because I have definitely seen them brighter, I can barely make out orion's belt
through the reflection of the city lights. As I look north, the dipper is clearer, but still not
very clear.
When I look down I see that my car is still halfway on the road, but since there is so little
traffic I decide to check out the wall. After walking to the front of Dayen I try to reach to the
top edge only to find I'm too short by at least 30 cents, call it a foot. I try to kick a foot hole
only to discover that the wall is solid ice. It looks like there is loose snow in among the ice
chunks, but that feels as solid as the rest. When I feel the wall with the palm of my hand I
discover that it is very smooth, too smooth for plow leavings. Oh! I see the wall faces south-
westish, so the sun would have melted the snow during the day and it would freeze at nightfall.
Not to worry, I get my hatchet and hammer, and chop a few foot holes in the ice. I decide to leave
Dayen's parking lights on while I go visit my friend the tree. I use the hammer in one hand, the
hatchet in the other and scale the wall. Very gingerly I pull myself up and over the top. The crust
of snow looks pristine and completely smooth, I wonder how deep it is, only one way to find out. One
step, another, no problem, the third and I'm up to my knee, the fourth and it's mid-thigh with a
thin skin if ice on top of the softer snow. I think to myself, ' Is it worth it? the tree is
probably asleep.' As I look further along what would be my path I can see the tips of some weeds
and tall grass poking through the snow. I decide to continue. Using the hammer like a pendulum
before me, I break the icy crust so I can wade along relatively easily. Why didn't I remember my
gloves?
Up the hill and through the cedars, The snow is less than ankle deep and I pause to brush some of
the snow from my pants. I can't see my friend the tree until I am almost out of the stand of trees
that buffer the vale of my friend. The way the light shines turns the dark bark to flowing silver, a
moonlit creek standing tall against the stars. I stand speechless at the sight, the moving light,
the seeming life. Me? The one with the Scottish gift of the gab, dumbfounded? The sound of a car
passing by breaks my reverie, I can tell that it's on the side of the road away from Dayen from the
sound and doppler shift.
Carefully, very carefully I rest the hammer and hatchet on the snow by one of the attendant trees,
making sure I leave impressions of the heads in the snow.
As usual I don't expect to hear an answer when I call to my friend. As usual I don't. This time
tho' there is no sense of acceptance or welcome or even the smallest feeling of
treeness.
I sometimes envy the complete dreamlessness of my friend's sleep. At this point my teeth begin to
chatter and I suddenly became aware that I had been standing in the snow long enough to become
thoroughly chilled.
I walked directly to my friend and rested one hand on the bark (I was blowing through the other one
trying to warm it up). With shivering body and chattering teeth my words were not understandable.
What I had meant to say was, "Hello, my friend sleep well, I can't stay or I'll freeze" I tried to
project how sorry I was for not staying. The cold and my shaking combined to prevent any coherent
thoughts. I regretfully turned away, made my way back to my tools, Dayen and home.
Derek Brown feb/18/2000 gregorian
ANCIENT MOTHER
By ArtuPhoenix
Ancient Mother
Gentle dreams
Loving compassion
Protection unseen
Wrap your wings
Around my soul
Whispers of light
That make me whole
Ancient Mother
I am your child
I am your blood
I am the wild
A whirling wind
I am a mirror
The stars above
And lightning shimmer
Ancient Mother
Teach me to be
Sacred to love
Eternal and free
The spiral dance
Above and below
Within and without
It's ebb and it's flow
Ancient Mother
Blessed I be
To know thy ways
Your lessons to me
A Witch in truth
The path I see
Between the worlds
I walk with thee
Dragon Circle
By Vixen Deamantra
Golden are the tones of the bardic singing dragon.
From the mountains to the sea, hear her cries of hearth and home.
Neverending, always searching for the perfect way to reach us
She rides her minstrel dragon as her siren spellsong grows.
Water dragon rises sharply from deep among the ocean's depths.
Where time has lost all meaning, visions come at her behest.
By regressing, she progresses through time's winding open door.
And she rides her questing dragon as her psychic insight grows.
Velvet skies and grassy fields are earth dragon's sacred space.
Given to her by the spirits that she guides each soul to face.
Always gentle, with compassion, she will ease the weary home.
And she rides her emerald dragon as her bond with spirit grows.
In the south the fire dragon screams, demanding independence.
While she uses unleashed power to heal the world's greatest woes.
She draws the needy to her like the moth goes to the ember,
And she rides her fiery dragon as her healing power grows.
There is one who weaves the fates of the mortal lives she touches.
For she shapeshifts like the fox in the mundane world below,
In the void she is the crow, seeing natural law with wonder.
And she rides her chaos dragon while life's passion in her grows.
We are the dragon sisters, five souls bonded to each other
In a circle that is open, but is bound around by love.
We sing the songs of life; healing, speaking, feeling, weaving.
And with our dragons in the night, we dance among the stars above,
Vixen Deamantra
11/15/1999
Wiccan Ethics Study
By Brenna Fey D'Amaurot
<Editors Note: All responses to the article should be sent direct to
Brenna Fey D'Amaurot, at brennafey@yahoo.com,
not to the Editor nor the Ezine.>
Hello. The following was designed for the purpose of completing a study on Wiccan ethics. Please
take a moment of your time to complete this survey, as it will be of great help to the author and to
pagans everywhere. If you do not consider yourself a Wiccan please do not respond, as the results
will be altered negatively. Thank you in advance.
-Brenna Fey D'Amaurot
Greetings fellow Wiccans…I would like to request your help on a project I am working on: I am trying
to ascertain the Wiccan belief or viewpoints on certain ethical issues. This questionaire is
designed to get at these beliefs. The following questionaire is not designed with correct answers
in mind; it is meant as a pure survey. Please read each question carefully and take your time.
Also, please be conscientious and form your answers as a Wiccan, i.e. as a member of the Wiccan
religion. If at all possible, word your answers with respect to your beliefs as a Wiccan rather
than as an individual who might disagree with certain Wiccan tenets. Write as much as you like.
All surveys will be kept anonymous, but I ask for your “name” and a method of contacting you for use
in cataloging efforts and possible follow-up on certain questions as I tabulate and analyze the
results. Please respond within the next two weeks, as time is an issue!
1. What do you think about abortion? Do you feel that it is right, wrong, or something else?
2. What do you think about lying? Do you feel that it is right, wrong, or something else?
3. What do you think about theft? Do you feel that it is right, wrong, or something else?
4. What do you think about breaking promises? Do you feel that it is ever ok, always wrong, or
something else?
5. What do you think about the death penalty? Do you feel that it is right, wrong, or something
else?
6. What do you think about war? Do you feel that it is right, wrong, or something else?
7. What do you think about suicide? Do you feel that it is right, wrong, or something else?
8. What do you think about the use of natural drugs (example: marijuana, psilocybilic mushrooms,
etc) and Alcohol? Do you think that it is right, wrong, or something else?
9. What do you think about sex between different age groups?
10. Do you think it is ok for people under 15 to be having sex? Why or why not? How about under
17? Under 18?
11. What is the youngest age at which you think it is ok to start having sex? Why?
12. Do you think Wiccans have a special duty to take care of the environment?
13. Do you think that Wiccans, simply because they are Wiccans, should be more concerned about the
environment than others?
14. What do you think about the use of manufactured drugs (example: cocaine, pills)? Do you think
it is right, wrong, or something else?
15. What do you think about taking care of the environment?
16. What do you think about smoking cigarettes/cigars? Do you think it is right, wrong, or
something else?
For each of the following questions, simply answer “yes” or “no” and explain your answer where
applicable.
17. If you are a smoker, do you leave your cigarette butts on the ground?
18. Would you be willing to sell your car or not buy one if you could take a bus instead?
19. Would you support a tax on gas to pay for research on alternative sources of
energy?
MEAGAN'S OSTARA
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.
One day in spring Meagan was walking with her father in the woods
behind their house. He was showing her some of the plants that lived in
the woods. Michael smiled down at Meagan, "Well, soon it will be Ostara
Meagan. We will be planting seeds to celebrate. Do you know what kind of seeds you want to plant for
the harvest in the fall?" Meagan thought
hard. She knew that Ostara was one of the holidays when pagans ask the
gods to make the fields fertile so that there would be food for winter. "I like flowers, daddy,"
she said, "but I wish that I could plant
niceness". Her daddy looked confused, "What do you mean?"
"Well," said Meagan, "Sometimes I have a hard time being nice to one of the boys at my school.
He's really mean to everyone. I don't like
being around him. I know that I should be nice to him even when he's
mean to me but it's really, really hard to do. That's why I wish that I
could plant some niceness."
"Hmmm," said Michael, "Do you want niceness for him so that he won't be so mean, or niceness for
you so that you can be nice to him even when you don't feel like it?" Meagan stopped to pick up
Starweaver who was rubbing her legs, "I'd like him to be nice to me, but if he won't then I guess
that I need some more niceness for me to give to him." Michael nodded, "I see. Well, it wouldn't
be right to work magic on him without asking him first." Meagan gasped, "I couldn't do that!"
"No," said Michael, "but there's no reason that you can't plant some niceness for yourself." They
turned a corner on the path and started back toward their house. Just then, Meagan's big brother
Corwin came racing toward them. "Hey!," he
shouted, "Mom's got the eggs to dye
for Ostara!" Meagan clapped her hands in glee and jumped up and down. "Run ahead," said her daddy,
"Just make sure you save some for me."
Meagan and Corwin ran back to the house. They slowed down when they got
to the door. It was a safety rule in their family not to run indoors
unless it was an emergency. Meagan didn't think that her mother
Elizabeth would think that eggs were an emergency.
When Meagan got inside the kitchen she saw her best friend Cindy sitting at the table. Cindy's mom
Anna was standing at the stove with
Elizabeth. "Hi!," said Cindy, "My mom met your mom at the store and she
said we could come over and make Easter eggs with you!"
Meagan slid into the chair next to Cindy. "Cool," she said, "but we're making Ostara eggs!"
"Meagan!", her mom turned around, "that's not
very nice. You know that Cindy is Christian and not Pagan!" Anna turned
with her, "Actually, we don't celebrate Easter as a religious holiday
like some Christians do. For us, it's just the day when the Easter bunny comes!
"Here kids, we have special dyes made from herbs for you to use. You should put on these gloves
first so that you don't dye your hands!"
Meagan and Cindy quickly put on their gloves while Elizabeth and Anna
set out the dye pots. There were all the colors of the rainbow. Meagan
had learned a name that helped her remember the colors of the rainbow. "Roy G.
Biv," she told
Cindy, "that stands for red, orange, yellow,
green, blue, indigo and violet." "I know that," answered Cindy, "and I remember that you said red
was for fire. Yellow is for air. Green is
for earth. Blue is for water." Meagan smiled at her friend. They colored all the eggs and put them
in special racks that Corwin had made for the eggs to dry.
Soon it was time for Cindy to go home. "Mom says I can come back on
Easter and we'll have an egg hunt!" she told Meagan. "I'll ask my mom if you can spend the night
before!" said Meagan. She gave Cindy a hug
goodbye.
Meagan couldn't wait for the holidays. Soon it was time to celebrate Ostara. Her parents had
explained that Ostara was also called the Spring Equinox. On the equinox the day was just as long
as the night. They told her that even though the Christian church had taken a form of the name
ostara for their spring holiday, Easter was based on the Jewish holiday of Passover. Christ had
been celebrating Passover when the bad people came to take him to jail.
The other members of the coven came to Meagan's house. She and Corwin helped to decorate the circle
with flowers. Just before circle was going to start Michael took Meagan apart. "This is for you," he
said, as he handed her a big seed that was colored bright pink. "What is
it?" asked Meagan. "Well, tonight we will all plant seeds to represent
things in our lives that we want to grow over the summer. This is a seed to stand for niceness."
Meagan hugged her daddy close. "Thank you" she said. She couldn't wait to plant her seed.
It took awhile for Meagan's seed to grow. Some days it was still hard for her to be nice to people
who were mean to her. But thinking about her growing seed helped.
When Easter came, Cindy was sick and couldn't come over to Meagan's
house. Meagan was really mad. Her parents reminded her that Cindy didn't want to be sick. Meagan
stopped and thought about it. Her parents had sent her to her room because she had gotten so mad
that she had been stomping all around the house. She thought about how she would feel if she were
the one who had been sick.
Soon Elizabeth came to tell her she could come back out. "I'm sorry
mommy," Meagan said, "Could we make a basket to take to Cindy so that
she will feel better?" Elizabeth smiled, "I think that that would make
her feel much better." She took Meagan downstairs and helped her make a
basket for Cindy.
Later they took the basket to Cindy's house. Meagan couldn't go in
because Elizabeth and Anna didn't want her to get whatever Cindy had. She stood in the yard and
waved up at Cindy's window. Elizabeth came
back out, "Cindy said to tell you thank you for the basket. It really
made her feel much better. It was very nice of you to think of doing
that for her. Especially when you were so mad about her not being able
to come over today."
Meagan stopped at the car, "I guess that my niceness seed is growing." Elizabeth smiled, "I guess
that it is."
Later that night Meagan lay in her bed with Starweaver curled up beside her. She
was still a little sad that Cindy could not come over to hunt eggs. But she felt proud that she had
thought of doing something that made Cindy feel better. Her niceness seed was really growing big.
All in all, she thought, it had been a good day.
