The Great October Book Giveaway - A Life Enchanted

Edited Oct 26/18


The following folks are taking home books:

Earth Works - Heidi and Misty F.

Italian Folk Magic - Shell

The Enchanted Life - mxtodis


*******************

The days of October slip by too briskly each year and I find myself caught in a whirlwind of activity, trying to eke out as many sweet and magical moments as I can before the month expires. I have been to a spooky corn maze, lingered by bonfires, perused fall markets, nibbled warm cinnamon-dusted doughnuts (purchased to keep my cold hands warm, as much as for the taste), and am still planning a selection of Halloween-themed jaunts as we race toward that bewitching evening.

But I also understand that the enchantment doesn't end when October does. It lingers in our daily lives, in the wonder of nature and the seasons beyond our doors, through the tides of our years. It is in our stories, our family lore, our personal practices. It is in how we make a home and feed ourselves (and others). It flows through our gifts and celebrations and is something to be acknowledged, sought, cultivated.

When you stop believing in magic, in the wonder around every corner, when you stop leaving a plate out for ancestors or St. Nicholas, if there is no joy in gardening or mending or singing charms...when a feather is just a feather and flowers no longer heal...then you are in trouble.

This year three books came out that were good reminders that enchantment can be found everywhere - even in the places it can be difficult to look. These books speak of family, folklore, strength and healing. They offer personal stories and more worldly tales. There are recipes and ceremonies and spells to weave. There is deep wisdom here, and I'm wildly happy to get to share them with you.

Take a closer look at these beauties here:

Earth Works: Ceremonies in Tower Time by H. Byron Ballard

"Earthwork" is a word used to describe a constructed bank of dirt, often raised in ancient cultures as a means of defense. Earth Works is a book of essays and rituals for a time of deep cultural change, a shift that author Byron Ballard calls "Tower Time." The first part of the book explores scenarios in these chaotic times and suggests possible reframing to understand the historic underpinnings and the long-term effects on both the planet and its inhabitants.

The second part of the book--called Berms--consists of tried-and-true rituals and ceremonies for communities, small groups and individuals to improve resilience and face inevitable change with courage, consideration and humor. 

Ballard has decades of ritual experience and brings that understanding to the practical and esoteric considerations of making ceremony both personal and powerful. You will find ideas here and inspiration--and something like hope.


Italian Folk Magic by Mary-Grace Fuhrun

Italian Folk Magic is a fascinating journey through the magical, folkloric, and healing traditions of Italy with an emphasis on the practical. The reader learns uniquely Italian methods of magical protection and divination and spells for love, sex, control, and revenge.

The book contains magical and religious rituals and prayers and explores divination techniques, crafting, blessing rituals, witchcraft, and, of course, the evil eye, known as malocchio in Italian—the author explains what it is, where it comes from, and, crucially, how to get rid of it.

This book can help Italians regain their magical heritage, but Italian folk magic is a beautiful, powerful, and effective magical tradition that is accessible to anyone who wants to learn it.

The Enchanted Life: Unlocking the Magic of the Everyday by Sharon Blackie

Enchantment. By Dr. Sharon Blackie’s definition, a vivid sense of belongingness to a rich and many-layered world, a profound and whole-hearted participation in the adventure of life. Enchantment is a natural, spontaneous human tendency ― one we possess as children, but lose, through social and cultural pressures, as we grow older. It is an attitude of mind which can be cultivated: the enchanted life is possible for anyone. It is intuitive, embraces wonder, and fully engages the mythic imagination ― but it is also deeply embodied in ecology, grounded in place and community.

Taking as her starting point the inspiration and wisdom that can be derived from myth, fairy tales, and folk culture, Dr. Sharon Blackie offers a set of practical and grounded tools for enchanting our lives and the places we live, so leading to a greater sense of meaning and of belonging to the world. To live this way is to be challenged, to be awakened, to be gripped and shaken to the core by the extraordinary which lies at the heart of the ordinary.


I have two copies of Earth Works, signed and gifted directly from the exceptional Byron Ballard, and one copy each of Italian Folk Magic and The Enchanted Life to give away. You have until Friday, the 26th of October at 9pm Pacific to get your name in the hat. Leave a comment or send me off an entry via the "make contact" form at the top of the page. If you want better odds, feel free to share this giveaway or the authors' books/pages around and then swing back and let me know and I'll enter you a second time. (And you are always welcome to let me know what book you prefer if you win. I try to match the names drawn with preferences, whenever possible.)

I've had so much fun this month, and it's not quite through yet! Let's see what else October has for us, shall we?

Legal Bits:

* This giveaway (or "sweepstakes") is open to all residents of Canada, (exluding Quebec residents) the USA, Great Britain, Europe, South America,  who are 18 years of age or older. This giveaway is void where prohitibited by law.  Please be aware of the contest/sweepstakes laws in your area.

*  Canadian residents will be subject to a skill testing question before being able to claim their prize (this is standard law in Canada).  The skill testing question will be in a form similar to: 1 + 2 - 1 =

*  This giveaway is not for profit and no purchase is necessary to enter.

*  This giveaway is sponsored/administrated solely by this blog/blog author and is not affilitated with or sponsored by Blogger, Facebook, Twitter, or any other entity, nor can they be held liable.

* By leaving a comment intending to enter into the draw for the giveaway (or "sweepstakes") you are knowingly agreeing to these rules/conditions.

I have chosen all the books/cards featured this month myself.  I have not been paid to feature a book, nor have I been asked to advertise for anyone.  This giveaway is not endorsed or sponsored by anyone other than Rue and Hyssop

Pumpkins, Protection, and a Mad, Mad August

Summer 'Dog-Days' are from mid-July to mid-August. Our ancestors noticed Canicula, the Roman dog star, was in conjunction with the Sun - attributing mad dogs, irritable shedding snakes, and all sorts of vile behavior to Dog Days. Ponds stagnate, poison-ivy thrives, and the fetid air maddens us now with gnats, hungry mosquitoes, and flies; all of us enveloped in a humid miasmic cloud that hangs over these hills.

-Linda Ours Rago, Blackberry Cove Herbal, Traditional Appalachian Herbalism

I counted eight pumpkins, and felt a flutter of excitement in my belly. There were years when I wouldn't grow them because my allotted garden space was minimal and pumpkins were impractical - the plants took up too much room and their many fruits were more than I could use. But as the years raced by I arrived at this magical age when I realized that what was practical was less important than what brought me joy. I decided that life is too short not to grow pumpkins.

The tomatoes that were in my basket a moment ago are as crimson as the sun in its attempt to shine through the wildfire smoke. How many suns and moons have burned red this summer...I've lost count now. The wind changed direction and blew a thick haze into town this morning, like fog rolling in off the ocean. It settled in, right to the ground, and I can barely see the neighbour's house across the road. I'm covered in falling ash as I pick my way through the garden beds, examining the crops and tugging at invading grasses.

I've been having my breakfast in a cornfield since the beginning of August. It somehow seems right that the first day of the golden month would mark my appearance in the middle of an acre of corn, crawling through rows on my hands and knees, talking to the plants and the birds who watch this strange creature moving through the field. My farmer friend is losing her battle with weeds this year. Black nightshade, and a few other vigorous self-sowers, took over the spaces between the cornstalks and some of her successive plantings are being dwarfed by the invaders. She can't keep up so I've volunteered my first hour or two at daybreak, until my back gives out or until the sun rises too high and hot - whichever happens first. Then I wander back down the hill into my day, stopping at the small help-yourself farm stand to buy eggs for my breakfast.

In the last week we've come through another eclipse, a half dozen planets in retrograde, and meteors streaking across the night sky. In my area there are forest fires, large festivals luring the masses into our small towns, and hundred-degree days which, when all stirred up in the cauldron of The Valley, serves up its own sort of madness. I've had trouble getting enough sleep, have found my brain a bit foggy, and, courtesy of the smoke, I'm waking each day with squeaky lungs and a sore throat. These dog days are wearing on me, but I'm making my way through them with as much easy living and small, meaningful magics as possible.

Though we now identify the 'dog days' as the most stifling weeks of summer, most folks understand that the phrase originated with the yearly reappearance of the dog star, Sirius, which some ancient peoples associated with calamity and ill luck. The length of these days of discomfort (and possible devilry) could be anywhere from three to six weeks and could start as early as the beginning of July or run into late August.

Here in The Valley, we are weary from the smoke and ash of wildfires (though thankful that the flames did not swallow peoples homes like they have in previous years). The creeks are dry and the hillsides brittle, and we could sorely use some rain. Our dog days are not over yet. But we do what we can to keep our spirits up. It's a good time to keep up with your spiritual work too, refreshing the wards on your home and land. I keep my altars fed and watered, the spirits I work with honoured (even on the days when I'm too tired to think of ritual or libations), and there are a few protections that have been employed, both to thwart the 'mad-dog' energy and to shield from some of the more criminal activity that increases in our area during the tourist season.

Your favourite floor wash recipe is a wonderful helper for stagnant energy (and can only benefit the house after a dusty summer). If you are feeling 'bitten' by the summer blues or working to bump up your spiritual safeguards, tossing some dried, crushed-to-powder eggshells in your mop water might be in order (if you are unsure about this practice, research Cascarilla and the folklore associated with eggs). I keep any broom-straws that shed from my working broom and I will add one to my mop bucket when cleaning with floor washes to prevent any unwanted guests treading over my floor.

If you are not against calling on saints (or in this case, saints who are also angels) then Saint Michael can be petitioned for protection. Some practices involve hanging or tucking his image over your front door (slipping a small prayer card behind the lintel can be an inconspicuous way of doing this). There are also various amulet-type charms such as equal armed crosses fashioned from particular trees (rowan crosses with red thread, for example) that can be enlisted for their protections on homes or persons. I like to make use of what the land around me offers up. Last year I listened to an insistent prodding to twine some late-season raspberry canes into a delightfully prickly swag that lives over my door. It has been a wonderful guardian ally for my home.

The land is beginning to pull back its energy, no longer bursting outward in fireworks of colour and lushness but plodding along through scorching sun and the floating soot from wildfires. There are signs, in the tansy and goldenrod nodding on the roadsides, the deepening hours of darkness, and the quail families coming together now, legions of them running down the road or pecking and scratching through the underbrush, that speak to cooler days and the deep amber light that late summer brings.

I'm hoping for an early autumn this year - rains and winds to quench the fires and dry land. The charms or protections you weave now will see you into new seasons, and you can add to them with the next tide's harvests or found treasures (a door wreath or swag is perfect for this sort of work).

How have you fared this summer? Were the balmy months friendly to you, or did you wilt and melt and find solace in shade or swimming holes? The weather man reports that the heat has not had its last run at us. The hundred-degree afternoons should be finished now, but the days still linger in the nineties and we are yet moving very slowly during the mid-day hours.

I'm wishing you so many more pleasant days of summer - less madness and more ease. And if you are one of us who attempt to court the fall days in with apples and home-grown pumpkins, who tempt the cool breezes to come soon, then I wish you all the brisk mornings and crisp nights you desire.



Witch Notes: Further Reading

This beautiful post, from Hecate Demeter on her August days.

A good look at spiritual house cleansing with plenty of floor wash ideas, from New World Witchery.

Spiritual Cleansing, Draja Mickaharic

Protection & Reversal Magic, Jason Miller

Communing With the Spirits, Martin Coleman
*Though this may seem like a strange recommendation, it references ancestral spirits (which some of us work with in our homes) and charms and such for keeping trickster spirits away.




All photos mine except the photo of the night sky, courtesy of Robert V. Ruggiero via Unsplash.

Wildfire Harvests and Full Moon Renewals

The red tractors were in the hay fields yesterday. As I drove by I watched them trace lazy, winding circles around the pastureland gathering the cut hay and transforming it into massive rolls that looked like the shredded wheat my grandfather used to eat. I love the drive over to the next valley. I pass small lakes favoured by the local fishermen, and then ranchland dotted with cattle, and finally orchards, farms and vineyards that are pulling in harvest after harvest at this time of year.

August evening sky, pre-wildfire haze.

I'm glad I went out yesterday morning, before the wind changed direction. At some point in the afternoon the wind swept in from the south and brought with it thick smoke from the fires burning just below us in Washington state.  Today, I still cannot see more than a block in each direction - there is only a wall of haze. Unless the air shifts, there will have been no sun today at all. More than that, if the smoke isn't blown out off the valley floor soon it could damage the grapes growing in the hundreds of vineyards dotting the hills. 

It is a bad situation all around, but those who have the worst of it - the ones forced to flee their homes, and the wildlife running for their lives - have my most fervent thoughts and wishes for safety. There has already been tragedy east of here where 30 homes were lost, and straight south, across the border, where firemen have lost their lives. We can deal with smoke and haze and sunless days. Our tourism industry has taken a hit this past week and as of today, you could likely stand at the highway (if you could stomach the smoke) and watch the line of tourists heading home early. Revenue and crop losses are not good. But we still have our homes.

I'm heading up to my friend's ranch this afternoon to check in on her and her corn harvest. I'm not sure what the smoke will do to the beautiful sweet corn she grows. She is a farmer though, and used to trials. Last year birds devastated her field. She tried every trick and invented a few of her own to keep those birds away, but they were legion. This year she got ahead of them and put "corn condoms" on the cobs - coffee filters held in place by an elastic. It allows air in to the cob, but the birds don't see the tops of the corn and therefore don't land on the stalks to pick at it. She is brilliant.

We all create our own ways to traverse what life throws at us (whether fire or plague or something a little less dramatic). Of late I've found solace in chanting - something I've played around with over the years but never really committed to.  A few simple mantras have become favourites. The familiar om mani padme hum and the Green Tara mantras have been wildly helpful in bringing me to a place of calm.

The second full moon in July stripped me bare. This time it was a cold fire, refining me. Nearly a month later as the moon grows toward full again, I feel like a new person. I'm finding peace more easily than I have before. I'm sleeping better and finding new ways to stretch my body in yoga class. I've eaten something out of my yard and/or gardens every day. I have been swimming - full-on swimming, not just wading - in the lake for the first time in years. And just like that, the sun moved in to Virgo today - my birth sign. I am all set to renew my life for another year.

 Second full moon of July in the arms of the cedars.

Coinciding with my birth month, I'll be kicking off another year of magic making with the marvellous Briana Saussy as I dig in to her course Spinning Gold. In Bri's words:

This year-long course provides the principles and practices needed for a life of wholeness, holiness and healing. As a student, you'll access and enjoy real teachings from practicing sacred artists, and a sacred arts community full of love, support, and real accountability.

You can reserve your spot in this incredible journey by heading to Briana's site by August 31st.

Also of note: I've had a few exciting conversations with some brillant magical folks about conjurings for October. If you are new here, make sure you stake out a spot during the most magical month of year - there all all kinds of books coming your way in the yearly Great October Book Giveaway! And there are a couple extra surprises too...

I hope the sultry months have been kind to you, and that you too have sampled local harvests and found adventure whenever you could. My thoughts are with those of you in wildfire areas - continued safety to you and yours.

Summer is still here - it hasn't lost its grasp yet. But there are cooler evenings creeping in, and the sound of geese on the wing is already being heard. Kiss your summer loves and hold them extra close - these hot, heady days won't last forever.

The Magic is Everywhere

My little town smells like citrusy evergreen tips this morning. And sure enough, as I headed out to feed breakfast to the local elementary school kids, I took a look at the neighbour's trees and noticed flashes of bright green at the ends of all the branches.*

The wild neon of the weeping willows along the lakeshore has mellowed a bit in the last week. Cherry blossoms are already giving way to leaves, and the large rue plant in the front garden is forming flower buds. According to the local orchardists, Spring arrived two weeks early this year.

In the vinyards every stray, creeping vine, save the two main producers, has been clipped from the trellises. They are bare and sad-looking at the moment, but they will leaf soon. In the cellar at my brother's winery, he is bottling like a madman. Last year's gewurztraminer has just hit the shelves and the 200-plus wineries in The Valley are gearing up for tourist season.

My own energy is trying to keep up with the shifts. It has been an odd and unsettling transition from Winter to Spring. I'm feeling as though a bit of tempering is happening - an adjustment here, a refining there. I wish I could say I've gotten to be an expert at this over the years. I still find change somewhat uncomfortable. I'm perfectly happy to watch the seasons melt in to one another, but watching parents age, and my almost-adult nieces struggle through the last of their teen years, has been a bit more of a challenge.

As always, I turn back to my practice. Busy mornings have thwarted my usual long river-walks, and so I squeeze in yoga, breathing exercises, and bits of meditation throughout the day. I take a moment (or more, if I'm lucky) to linger at the altar. My offerings have been meagre of late. Candlelight and incense only go so far. It's time to uncork a treasured bottle of wine, and add some fresh flowers.

Spring is settling in, and I'm finding my groove again.

Move, stretch, bloom, inhabit, and then move some more. Watch the sun stretch out its stay in the sky each day, and set a little bit further north each evening. Find solace in the cycle, and your place within it. Love more. Smell more flowers, and trees, and weeds. Notice the magic.

The magic is everywhere.

*Should you decide to sample the delight of fir or spruce tips (chock full of vitamin C, and lovely immune stimulating properties) then pinch a small amount of the soft, bright-green tips from a tree (that has not been exposed to sprays) and nibble away!

You might also:

~ soak tips in hot water and enjoy as tea

~ infuse in honey, being sure that all plant material is covered with the honey (turn honey over daily if it is difficult to keep the tips submerged)

~ create a syrup

~ chop fresh tips finely, and add to sugar and a small bit of oil for an uplifting bath scrub

The Many Faces of March

My lettuce and green onion seeds have been in the ground for a little more than a month now, and have just this last week made a show of life.  I was so very eager in February, when the unseasonably warm weather arrived. Eager for life and Spring and growth. But there were still frosts, fogs, and dark days to come that required candlelight and tea and some satisfying hibernation.

March in the Valley has a way of teasing you out and still not being hospitable enough to be of any sort of good company. But this month of the Spring equinox, of green beer, of the anniversary of a particularly bad day for Ceasar, and punctuated by astrological oddities and a Friday the 13th, has had its moments, and has now come nearly to a close.

Before it melts into the arms April, I should thank it for the cherry and apricot blossoms. And for the arrow-leaf balsam root flowering on the hillsides, waving multitudes of cheery yellow faces. The Oregon grape bloomed this morning, one brief day after I took the photo of the buds (below, right). Everything is the bright green of newness.

While I've been a quiet blogger, I've still been stirring. Some of what moved me in March, included:

~ Briana Saussy talks about daily practice.
"Daily practice at its deepest puts us right into the mucky middle of life for that is where the magic happens."

~ The amazing folks behind Candlesmoke Chapel are down, but not out. They are selling some rare books, tarot cards, and more to fund a move after a break-in at their home. Some of these are once in a lifetime finds - bid on something and help out some wonderful people.

~ Reading: Night of the Witches: Folklore, Traditions & Recipes for Celebrating Walpurgis Night by Linda Raedisch

~ New World Witchery has a Spring Lore contest going on until the end of April. Great prizes to be had simply for sharing a bit of your family's folklore.

Also, one of the lovely hosts, Laine is struggling a bit with a medical issue, so if you have some prayers or good thoughts to send her way, I'm sure it would be appreciated. We love Laine!

~ Aidan breaks down his theory of practical magic, and I dig it.
"Practical magic is largely about shifting things from the ‘possibilities’ side of things to the ‘probabilities’ side. And then working to increase the likelihood of a particular probability to manifest."

~ I spent Friday the 13th with seven of my best girlfriends, sitting around a farm table eating a ridiculous amount of food, and drinking local wines and lime daiquiris. Some of us were tired. Some of us were sick. Some of us had kids and/or husbands at home waiting (or texting every half hour). But we made time for each other. The laughter was healing. The daiquiris were healing to those of us with sore throats (ahem).

Get your friends together. I know you are all busy. I'm the one often left to organize a gathering and it can sometimes take a month to wrangle all the schedules and settle on a date. Do it anyway. The payoff is worth the effort.

Satisfaction in Fire

I've been burning things again.  

There has been much fire this week.  Fire consuming wood and herb-stalks and symbols of all manner of things I'd like to be rid of. I never seem to tire of it.  Candles, incense, campfires, lanterns...I can't seem to get enough of flame and smoke and heat. 

It's that time of year. My energy seems to ignite as the days grow brighter.  Time for opening windows and cleaning out the winter-webbing.  The earth keeps stirring, and the moon is waning through its last quarter, and I needed to let go of a few things and re-kindle a few things. 

I attacked my main altar this afternoon, which is a behemoth.  Brimming with candles, animal curios, rocks and plant specimens, potions, skeleton keys and ancestor relics, the altar was in sore need of a good overhaul and cleanse.  I moved some trinkets out and took stock of candles and incense, and found seeds of some mysterious sort (un-labeled, of course.) Everything received a good dusting and plenty of love and thanks, and some lucky items were blessed with a shot of whiskey or an annointing with a fragrant oil. The energy of the space is bright, and clearer than it has felt in weeks.   

I was able to cook my simple dinner over the fire tonight, the dusk falling so slowly, and I spent some time scrying into the flames.  The scent of sage, lavender and chaparral drifted up whenever I tossed a handful of dried herb remnants onto the glowing coals.  Every inch of me has been fumigated so it seems.  I'm waiting a bit longer for my bath tonight, lingering over the scent of smoke in my hair.  I fear that I would live like this, if left alone to my eccentricities - wandering the world with woodsmoke-scented skin and ash on my clothes. 

There is such satisfaction in fire and its evidence.  

My bones are warm, my spirit is enlivened, and the altar glows with flickering candlelight. 



Fire Photo © Justin Smith / Wikimedia Commons, CC-By-SA-3.0

There Will Be Waiting Yet

Today the snow returned, and then the light. I sat for a time in the backyard, watching the snowflakes sparkle in the sun while they fell from the sky like tiny stars.  

This time of year is a tease. While eastern and northern folks don't even hope for signs of spring until April, we often see movement in late February. The snow melts, and even as the frost comes and goes, the most opportunistic plants push forth. It is not unusual to see the green of chickweed and little chive shoots this soon (delightful in an early-spring potato salad.) But this morning, glancing at the inches of snow lingering on the garden beds, I realize that I'm still in for a bit of a wait for those green gifts. 

I'm making potato salad anyway.

I've had my head down these last weeks - working my way through winter the only way I know how.  Shovel snow, feed the birds (and now the hungry ducks and deer come too,) trudge along through year-end and tax-time work at the office, snuggle cats, light candles, meditate, leave offerings, and then...breathe. 

Still, there is the slightest shift - barely perceptible - but it's there. I saw it in the mountain sheep ewes coming down the hill yesterday, heading low into the valley as they do when the grasses start to show at the edge of the roadsides. I saw it in the swans returning - just a few - but they are coming back to stop over on our lakes before they head to other destinations. The little pumpkin farm to the south of us has new covers on their greenhouses where they grow bedding plants for sale. The orchardists and those that tend the vinyards have been seen wanding through their rows of trees and vines, inspecting.

There will be waiting yet.  Which may be good for me.  As much as I long to see the earth again, I have work sitting in neat piles, and people wanting things from me - and I've been resisting. I'm only half-awake here, barely into the second week of February, and if the ground thawed tomorrow I know myself enough to fear that I'd toss my tax files into a corner and plunge my hands wrist-deep in the ground and not come back inside for any reason.

There are also many plans for this year.  Ideas and journeys and all sorts of adventures that make my mind swim with delight.  While I could easily lose an afternoon to dreaming about such things, I'm working on keeping my concentration on the tasks at hand, which often proves terribly difficult for my wandering brain.

My month thus far has been filled with distraction, but also with gentle forward progress.  

How is your February faring?  

Mild January Movement

The snow has melted here, low in the valley.  You don't have to go far to find it again, but for now, we are content with ice and sometimes mud on warmer days.  The only downside about the snow being gone is that it kept the landscape bright, even on the cloudy days.  Now, as the temperature does its up and down dance, is when we have the low cloud settle in.  So low some days, you feel as though you can almost touch it.  The mornings never brighten, the afternoons seem like eternal twilight, and the nights arrive early and linger.  It seems as though we are revisiting the days before the solstice.  It is the way of the valley, especially my little town between the lakes, shaped like the smallest part of an hour-glass.  Further to the north and south, the valley opens up and the clouds lift, but here in the hollow, we'll be having a strange sort of whirl with mist and fog for several weeks.

It can bring you low, this fog.

I've been faring well, or at least satisfactorily, having avoided all colds and flu bugs going around, and working my way through the grasping claws of winter melancholy.  I've made it a priority to move everyday, in one way or another (outside whenever possible) and it's a proven mood lift.  I've discovered a fitness studio with wonderful yoga classes in the next town and my body is thankful for the deep stretching it has been missing.

I've found that this year, people seem more willing to share their struggles.  I've read articles, and had so many people talk to me about their wrestle with January and their frustration, foggy-thinking, lack of motivation, resistance to resolutions, desire to hibernate, and even their battles with despair.  There is small comfort in knowing that I'm not the only one who rows against these winter waves.

I keep to my practices to stay above water.  I plan outings, to shake up the endless cold days of same-ness. And I take comfort in the wise words of others.

Here is what is moving me today:

Crystal Blanton (and friends) talk New Year's resolutions on The Wild Hunt.

Louis CK talks about embracing the sad moments (and putting the cell phone down.)

Jessica finds out that sometimes, there are no lessons.

When You Need to Tackle Your Frost Giants

The new year has come in like a...well, like a Polar Vortex, really. 

January is its own special kind of vortex for me - it always has been.  I get completely drawn in to the idea that we have an entirely fresh start, but then get looking at the list of things that did not get accomplished last year or how I'm not where I thought I might be, and I start to spin. Add to that, the perpetual, deep cloud cover here in the south end of the valley, the low fog, the long hours of low light, even with the growing sun, and things begin to slide sideways in my happy little existence.

This is when I'm glad that I have more than just small bottles of booze in my toolbox.

In the old days, before magic found me, I spent long hours hiding in my house, cursing the weather beyond my window.  I used to sniffle my way through really bad romantic comedies, all the while telling myself that if that girl could change her life (in two hours, with an amazing make-up crew, and the super-cute boy next door, who we're supposed to believe she never noticed before,) then so could I, dammit!  

The thing is, there is rarely a Mark Darcy standing around waiting to tell you that he likes you "just as you are." Instead, in January, there are multitudes of people telling you "here's how you can change everything about yourself so people will like you - for just $49.99 a month!"  In this first week of the year, I've stopped counting at 30 emails from people/companies wanting to sell me some way to make my life better.

For the record, I'm not opposed to self-improvement via courses, gym memberships, weight-loss programs, or salsa lessons.  If you are the type of person that wants/needs structure, accountability, group or partnered plans of attack to work toward your goals, then I'd say absolutely - check out some classes/memberships and see what fits. What I'm opposed to, is the timing and volume of the ads, and the general feeling running through many of them that you aren't okay unless you sign up for their version of improvement, and that 2014 might just be the 9th circle of hell for you if you don't sign up immediately.  

What I'm looking for this time of year is not another reminder of how I don't measure up, but a good scrubbing of everything that isn't making me feel good - including the "only we can help you like yourself more" emails.

The first thing I do is hit "delete" - repeatedly. 

After that, I turn to my own body and check in.  Your body can tell you everything you need to know.  Unless you've been ignoring it for years and then, you've got some catching up to do. Your body will tell you what it wants more of (chocolate seems like the right answer, but in this case it's probably not.)  Water, sleep, meditation, movement, protein, laughter, sex - the answers are there.  Personal trainers are great, but you have the capacity and the know-how to design your own destiny.  

I trace back any uneasy feelings to their source, by continuing to ask "where is this coming from?"  Then I pull out my toolkit. I take baths, annoint myself with oils, meditate, speak with my ancestors/gods/guides, do some sympathetic magic for what I'm after (even if it's simply to feel better or lessen my winter blues,) and then decide on a practical plan of attack.  It's not a quick fix.  The meditation, bath and some good digging into what is going on in my mad little brain, can be pretty instant relief.  But for a longer than an evening session of anxiety-easing or life-changing, you've got to follow up with some action.

Kick the winter blues to the curb.*  Burn the weight-loss program ads in the fireplace.  Ask your body what it wants, and listen.  Then do the work yourself, kindly and introspectively at first, then with a good handful of magic, then bust some actual ass - on your terms.

- Some info on  spiritual cleansing from the fabulous Bri Sassy: "So Fresh and So Clean.."

- An in-depth post on candle work from Candlesmoke Chapel: "Putting The Work In..."

- A wonderful list of items you can use for magical aid, right in your cupboard, by Sarah Anne Lawless:  "Pantry Folk Magic..."

*I am, of course, speaking of low-level "blues" here and not suggesting that those with serious depression or anxiety can just wash it away with a bath.  Please see a health care professional for any severe issues.

The Fountain of Youth is a Salami and Havarti Sandwich

There is a fountain of youth: it is your mind, your talents, the creativity you bring to your life and the lives of people you love.  When you learn to tap this source, you will truly have defeated age.   ~Sophia Loren

In the next town, there is a little Italian deli tucked into the entrance of an alley.  It is a place no tourist would likely find, but the locals know it well.  Inside that tiny shop, there is a magical army of women and men that make incredible sandwiches, piled high with fresh veggies, meats with hard-to-pronounce names, and strange and delighful toppings.  If you squeeze into this shop during the lunch rush, you will get carried away by the scent of the deli counter and the sounds of people shouting orders and the tearing of butcher's parchment as it flies off the roll to wrap up a mile-high masterpiece cradled in the bosom of a fresh baked Kaiser bun.

I don't often get a chance to stop in at this deli, and there are times I've tried but couldn't find a parking spot or even get in the door during a rush.  But yesterday I found myself inside with my nose pressed up against the glass filled with mysterious meats and cheeses, picking out lovely things to be delivered to my very own sandwich.  When the efficient woman behind the counter asked if I wanted "the works" for my toppings, I simply smiled and nodded, even though I had no idea what I was in for.  (I'm working on my control issues, you see.  No more being picky and missing out on something good.)

I was practically levitating while eating my lunch.  I had things falling on my shirt and dripping down my chin. I found crisp pickles and rich artichoke hearts and what I think might have been marinated sundried tomatoes tucked into layers of salami and proscuitto and havarti.  I was grinning like an idiot when I returned to work.

I've been in a few situations recently that involved showing my ID or revealing my age.  Each time, I've had someone say "I'd never have guessed you were that old," or "that's not possible."  One person made a comment about how I must have good genes.  I suppose I do.  While my father's family line boasts longevity, my mother's line is filled with people who's age is hard to pinpoint.  (There's something in that Ukrainian blood, I know it.)  But genes only take you so far.  So - I'll tell you my secret - my Fountain of Youth.

Find something to delight in.  Every day.

And not just delight in.  Revel in.  Laugh far-too-loud at.  Swoon over.  It definitely helps if you find something that hits high on your joy-meter, but if you aren't almost peeing, or tearing up, or nearly having an orgasm; if you heart isn't growing three sizes like the Grinch, it still counts.  No pressure. 

I have rough days too.  Sometimes the gods are unkind, or just like to see you fall, or Mercury is a bitch. Stuff happens.  I'm not glossing over the crap - the stuff that knocks us off our feet.  I'm just saying  that if I can get through the day finding at least one reason to grin like an idiot - I feel good.  

In the last month, I have found foolish levels of delight in a haunted amusement park, a cat chasing a piece of crumpled paper, my niece telling me a story, the way the light finds a way through the clouds to beam upon one spot on the hill like it's showing the way to Brigadoon, the crows leaving walnuts on the road for me to drive over so they can swoop down and get the prize inside the shell, a package wrapped in green paper, and a cup of Indian chai that rocked my world.

Every day there is something.  And I expect there to be.  I find something to laugh at.  Something that makes me jump up and down like a Price Is Right contestant.  Silly things.  Things that other people pass by and don't notice.  I notice.  I'm the kid tugging on your coat saying "did you SEE that?" 

I used to have a friend who told me I should act my age.  I should cut my long hair short, because women of a certain age wore their hair short and classy.  I should put away the blue jeans and leave behind the Keds and wear grown up clothes.  I should settle down.

I don't want to act my age (whatever that means.)  I want to spend the rest of my life caring more about what amazing things I can see, taste, touch and experience rather than thinking for one moment about my age.  I have found the Fountain of Youth - it is decidedly in not giving a shit about your age.  It is in finding joy.  It is in a salami and havarti sandwich from a little Italian deli tucked into the entrance of an alley.

Where is your Fountain of Youth?

PS - that picture up there?  Bethesda Fountain.  Awesome right?  From Wiki Commons - by Emma Stebbins.

Muscle Magic?

November has sunk into the valley in a cold, wet way.  Having had a warm, sunny October, I don't feel comfortable complaining, so I wait for the dry mornings to take my walks and extend hope that the deep cloud lets a bit more light through each day.

I'm feeling myself slip into that familiar hibernation feeling that happens as the days grow shorter and the temperatures drop.  To combat the urge to curl up and not move again, I've committed to using the treadmill on the days I don't go out for a walk.  I've been having quite a bit of fun on it actually, and I've found that a good, hard pace and the steady thud of my feet on the machine begins to take me out of my body, and leads me to some interesting meditative experiences and epiphanies.  I think that this is not unlike the euphoria that is referred to as a "runners' high" - except that I'm rarely at a full run.  It may be more along the lines of what is experienced while doing ecstatic (trance) dancing or a drumming journey - the sound of my feet and the white noise of the treadmill offering up a drum-like repetition for my mind to escape in to.

The whirling Dervishes knew how to get there.

The other body-magic synergy I've been pondering is muscle-building as sympathetic magic.  

Muscle is created after first tearing down the tiny muscle fibers in the tissue.  Your body then repairs or rebuilds these little fibers and the newly generated fibers begin to create bulk.  You are essentially tearing yourself down and rebuilding yourself - stronger.  This really gets me excited when I think about combining it with activities such as "tearing down" non-beneficial habits, relationships and situations where you just didn't say "no" when you might have wanted/needed to.  Add to that some work on creating new energy or movement in certain areas of your life, while your body is literally creating new muscle cells.  Work associated with health, fertility, prosperity would all be something I'd consider here.

I've been glancing at the hand weights that have been winking at me from the corner of the room, and I've been thinking that since I'm no longer hauling dirt, plants or vegetable harvests or pushing a lawn mower anymore, it might be time to pick those little irons up again.  

And why not work a little magic while working my muscles?

* For some great reading along this topic, check out the brilliant Peter Paddon's "Visceral Magick"

* Although I'm fiercely behind on her podcasts, "Iron Powaqa" is a weight-lifting witch with sass - worth a listen!  I'm going to try to catch up on these and see what insight she has on this topic.

* art "Dancing Dervishes" by Amedeo Preziosi via Wiki Commons

Compost Magic

Whether you have been participating in Easter or Passover, or simply reveling in chocolate bunnies, I hope your long weekend has been marvelous!  And suddenly April is upon us.  Last year we were knee-deep in April showers, long before April even arrived.  This year, we are riding a heat wave that looks to last long into the week.  Taking advantage of the balmy weather, I'm trimming perennials and re-potting herbs.  I've got a few plants to move around yet, and I'm still amending a few of the beds with the gorgeous compost from my little beehive bin.

I'm working on ideas to keep myself more aware and "in the now" while out in the gardens.  Last year, my goal was to appreciate the summer, even though I'm not a fan of the intense heat that we get in The Valley.  I was pleased that I was able to concentrate more on how thankful I was for the sunlight that was growing my garden, rather than whining about the temperature.  This year, my project is "slow gardening."  The focus is on taking time with each plant or crop.  Appreciating their growth process and the journey toward my table, medicine cabinet or becoming a magical ingredient.

Here's an idea that came to me while whispering compliments to my compost bin.  (Don't you compliment your compost? )  If you are starting up a compost pile, or adding your weekly bucket of veggie scraps and yard clippings to your bin. Choose one item, or your kitchen bucket (if it isn't smelly and you are able to hold it for a time,) and find a place to sit and hold it comfortably.  

Think about something in your life you would like to transform.  Perhaps there is a habit you have that is not conducive to your well-being.  Is there is a relationship that has become complicated or neglected, and needs some "getting back to basics" energy?  The idea here, is to take the breaking down and re-forming process of composting, and apply that to your situation.

For example - I'm having a bit of a re-lapse of late with negative self-talk.  Nothing too serious - but I'm being reminded that I'm not treating myself with love and respect.  So what I'm doing is this:  I'm taking some time to sit with my compost item of choice.  (A nice long root, pulled from one of the veggie beds.)  I'm addressing the issue that I want to release - thinking about how negative self-talk feels and snowballs into treating myself poorly.  

I then think about seeing this situation decompose and become something more useful.  Instead of instantly turning to cruel words, I see myself taking a breath and having patience with myself when I do/say something that seems wrong or silly.  I see myself not cringing whenever I spy a candid photo taken of me.  I imagine that I am laughing-off something that would otherwise frustrate me.  Pour these thoughts/feelings into the item that you are holding.  See/feel/imagine the item taking on your concerns and how you see them transforming.  Keep in mind, that things will not always transform as you want them to.  If you are trying to "fix" a relationship, you can only change yourself and your contribution to it - not the other person.

When you are finished setting your intention for this process, release your compost to the bin.  Walk away knowing that while millions of micro-organisms work on the physical plane in your composter, your goals are being realized on an energetic level as well.  Keep track of your process as the season continues, adding to your compost pile, and doing your own work on breaking down and re-forming.

Composting is a way of re-imagining items we feel we don't need anymore.  What do you want to re-imaging in your life?  What can you let go of, so that it can become something rich and fertile?

(I don't really need to add a caveat here that this sort of thing doesn't replace medical assistance for serious physical or mental conditions, right?)  

Today

 

Today was sunshine and clouds.  A black widow spider.  31 snowflakes.

A good long walk.  A good long laugh.  A good long cry.

Today was hot chocolate.  Compost.  Turned over earth.  Whispering blessings.

Today was incense on charcoal.  Whisky for the garden spirits.  A wild wind.  Local honey.

Today was both procrastination and finally finishing.

And two funny dogs that looked like footstools.

Today was deep breathing.  And deeper realizations.

Change of Light

There is a certain kind of light that signals the change to autumn.  Although the season doesn't officially arrive until the end of next week, we've been feeling it creep up on us for a while.  We've had nothing but bright, warm September days here in The Valley.  The warmth is wonderful, the breezes are cool and comfortable, but it is the light that is the real show stopper.

There is a golden, fuzziness that the light takes on in the fall.  It is not the heat-haze of summer, not the bright, clear glow of spring or the small, entreating rays of winter.  This is, as if you were walking around squinting ever so slightly - making things appear just a bit softer around the edges.

I think I am becoming a bit softer too.  Gone is the frantic rush to get the garden watered early before the scorching heat hits. The sweaters have come out for cool mornings and even cooler evenings.  And I am lingering.  Stopping at the river to touch the plants again - not rushing through my walk to avoid the bugs and the sunburn.  Sitting in the back yard with a coffee watching the cats stalk through the grass.

The dark is coming on quicker now.  The light leaves us before 8:30pm.  The evenings have been prime star-watching nights.  Clear skies foretelling the next sunny day, are chock full of twinkly lights and planets and satellites.

I'm curling up with a cup of tea in the evening.  I'm taking time to read a little fiction, which I rarely do unless I'm on vacation.  The extra blankets are coming out of the closets and being draped over chairs and on the end of the bed for insurance against the surprising temperature drop during the night.  I'm excited about the upcoming festivities in October.  Lists lie everywhere on my work-space.  I'm feeling the need to organize and surround myself with notebooks and pretty office supplies.

It intrigues me how the simple shift of the light, can affect so much of my life - how I feel and how I function.

What does this change feel like to you?  Or do you live somewhere where there is such a subtle shift in your surroundings, it is barely noticeable?  Do you adjust your schedule, your practices or your lifestyle in the autumn?

Back to Practice

I was going to write a post that paralleled going back to school and getting back to my personal practice, but that clever Teo Bishop beat me to it.  You should definitely read his post, even if you are not following a Druidic path.  Much of what I’m feeling of late is similar.

September not only grabs me with its warm days and cool nights, but with its pretty school supplies, and the memories of getting back to a regular schedule.  Because I drive my niece 20 minutes down the road to the next town to catch the school bus, I have to be up early now Monday to Friday and it’s the perfect excuse to get back to my routine too.

Although I light my altar candle each morning and greet the directions and refresh the water and take care of any offerings on my two deity altars, I’ve let my meditation practice slip.  My excuse is that gardening and wild crafting are meditative, but that’s not entirely honest.  I am in tune with the earth while I’m outside, but I’m also not entirely open to receive messages or check-in with my guides and guardians.  Sometimes they have to shout to be heard over my constantly muttering mind.  Taking time to be still and silent is important to me, and something I’ve let slip.

I’m looking forward to returning to a routine.  My Craft is fluid.  I don’t subscribe to one way of doing things, one religion or ceremony.  My actions flow with what is calling me at a certain time or what particular road I’m following.  (I know there are some right now, groaning about eclecticism.  I’m not going to change, dearies.  Oh - and read this article by one of my teachers, Christopher Penczak.)  Speaking of Christopher - I loved his Temple courses (I finished the Outer Temple course this past January) and highly recommend them.  I enjoyed his system of classes and the work.  Although I do use some of the practices that Christopher teaches, I still find that I naturally move back into a more fluid and less structured path.

Having a daily practice, a small bit of structure in my otherwise fluctuating path, is a nice touchstone for me.  It is a place to focus my energy for the day and a good space for tuning in.  I’m looking forward to getting back to my ritual.

Balance

Photo from stock.xchng.

Before getting to the topic of this post, I just wanted to thank you all for your kind thoughts regarding my loss.  Your sweet words have been a balm to my sadness.  So many thanks to you.


The last time I met with my women's group, we discussed the upcoming equinox and our thoughts on "balance."  Being that I'm trying to find my own again, I though I would post these ideas to help assist in finding and maintaining balance:

~ Observe the in-between times of dawn and dusk. Note that balance is not necessary exactly ‘equal’ but a fluid fluctuation between one thing and another. Nature is never perfectly equal.

~ Start a meditation practice.  At the very least, spend 5 minutes a day in silence - doing nothing.  Merely sit and breathe.  Focus on your breath.

~ Spring cleaning - a clean, uncluttered environment leaves room for energy to flow. There is a saying “you can’t land a plane on a full runaway.” Remove unwanted or unused items and make room for prosperity to enter.

~ Besides physical cleaning, energetic cleaning can leave a space more balanced and open to beneficial energy. Smudging your home with sage, sprinkling salt water in the corners of each room of your home or walking the perimeter of your home with a bell, singing bowl or rattle are all great ways to cleanse unwanted energies from your home.

~ Having a gratitude practice is a way of acknowledging that which we have and while holding the space of gratitude, attracting that which we desire.

~ Practice “Tadasana” the basic standing pose in yoga. Feel how your body shifts muscles to keep you standing straight. Feel where you are holding in/holding back in your body and release those areas.

~ Do one thing at a time.  Be present.  Zen proverb: "When walking, walk. When eating, eat."

~ Spend time in nature.  Connecting to the flow of the earth, sky and water can do wonders for your spirit.

I hope you all enjoy this time of balance as we enter the Equinox today and tomorrow!