Still have not done anything.
Complacent.
I look at myself in the mirror... you know, right out of the shower standing there in front of it without hiding anything... and I am grossed out by what I see. I have really started putting on weight.
My friends say I am insane. That the weight I have put on since I quit smoking (again) looks good on me. That I was always too skinny and now I look healthy.
WELL, I do not feel healthy. I feel bloated. I have weighed between 135 and 155 pounds the majority of my life. Maybe being six feet tall does not help my lanky factor, but it is what I am use to. Weighing in now at 182 pounds, might still be within norms for my height, but it makes me feel ill. PLUS, I don't like the way it looks. Maybe if it was a little more dispersed over my body, but it seems to all be going to my midsection... I do not want to look pregnant or as though I have a beer drinking problem.
It just does not feel right.
BUT, have I done anything about it? NO.
The membership to the gym is nothing more than another card for my key ring.
Where is the motivation? That brief glance at myself in the mirror every morning should be enough for me to fast the next seven days and hit the gym like a manic Karen Carpenter.
Tomorrow is Sunday, the gym (advertised as OPEN 24 HOURS) is closed. So, Monday, I am going to get up at a decent hour and go hit the gym before work. I am going to try and go all five days, Monday through Friday and take the weekends off. At least do some intense cardio workouts just to burn off all these excess calories I am storing. AND, I need to start managing the intake valve a bit better!
Life's little curve balls... turn into our little butter-balls.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Panic Attacks
I have now entered the ranks of medicated Western society.
A couple of years ago I was having really bad chest pains to the point that I thought something was wrong with my heart. Seeing how my father died at such an early age of a massive coronary, I thought it wise to see a doctor. After every test they could come up with I was told I was healthy as an ox.
It was not too long after this that I transferred from the overly busy pharmacy I was at to a much slower one... and then not even after six months at the smaller, quieter pharmacy I was again transferred to another higher volume environment.
After almost two years at the new pharmacy, the chest pains returned. Except now, I noticed something about when they occur. When it is extremely busy. When it is overly loud. When there are a lot of people.
SO, I went back to the doctor. Told him how I was now avoiding large crowds and loud environments. How I have to leave the pharmacy at times because it feels like my chest is going to explode. How it feels like I am losing control.
Panic Attack.
And how is it fixed? Medication. Western society's answer for all ailments.
But, I have done some reading on my own and discovered that I may have caused this myself... and can possibly fix it too.
Last year, my partner spent almost the entire year unemployed. It put a strain on us financially--along with every other American.
About midway through the year I ended my meditation group I was holding out of my home and pretty much walked away from the Buddhist path all together. I stopped meditating.
I quit going to the gym.
My work environment has been deteriorating for quite some time due to scheduling issues, short staffed, over worked. Not too mention, the first of the year is always the worst-- cold and flu season is in high gear and every one's insurances change.
Sleeping habits were the first thing to start changing.
Stress is a patient opponent. If allowed, it quietly builds up inside of you until one day it finds a way out. What was once just a mental/emotional discomfort that got pushed to the side as soon as the moment passed has now taken on a physical form. Luckily, mine came in the form of anxiety attacks.
For now, I will play along with the pill-pushers... but I am also going to start meditating again and heading to the gym. Both are great stress reducers and I would rather be doing that than becoming addicted to xanax. Really do not need the added stress of a rehab bill.
A couple of years ago I was having really bad chest pains to the point that I thought something was wrong with my heart. Seeing how my father died at such an early age of a massive coronary, I thought it wise to see a doctor. After every test they could come up with I was told I was healthy as an ox.
It was not too long after this that I transferred from the overly busy pharmacy I was at to a much slower one... and then not even after six months at the smaller, quieter pharmacy I was again transferred to another higher volume environment.
After almost two years at the new pharmacy, the chest pains returned. Except now, I noticed something about when they occur. When it is extremely busy. When it is overly loud. When there are a lot of people.
SO, I went back to the doctor. Told him how I was now avoiding large crowds and loud environments. How I have to leave the pharmacy at times because it feels like my chest is going to explode. How it feels like I am losing control.
Panic Attack.
And how is it fixed? Medication. Western society's answer for all ailments.
But, I have done some reading on my own and discovered that I may have caused this myself... and can possibly fix it too.
Last year, my partner spent almost the entire year unemployed. It put a strain on us financially--along with every other American.
About midway through the year I ended my meditation group I was holding out of my home and pretty much walked away from the Buddhist path all together. I stopped meditating.
I quit going to the gym.
My work environment has been deteriorating for quite some time due to scheduling issues, short staffed, over worked. Not too mention, the first of the year is always the worst-- cold and flu season is in high gear and every one's insurances change.
Sleeping habits were the first thing to start changing.
Stress is a patient opponent. If allowed, it quietly builds up inside of you until one day it finds a way out. What was once just a mental/emotional discomfort that got pushed to the side as soon as the moment passed has now taken on a physical form. Luckily, mine came in the form of anxiety attacks.
For now, I will play along with the pill-pushers... but I am also going to start meditating again and heading to the gym. Both are great stress reducers and I would rather be doing that than becoming addicted to xanax. Really do not need the added stress of a rehab bill.
Friday, February 19, 2010
But then again, I wake-up this morning and I create a new blog for the Pagan group while I reread what I posted last night before I fell asleep... and, I wonder.
I wonder what it is I gain spiritually from the Pagan path. It does not offer up any code of conduct for people to practice and improve their way of life. It is all left up to the individual. There are no great philosophical works, no great spiritual teachers, no intellectual forums that discuss the human condition or an answer or solution for it. Often times it feels like empty rituals and role playing. A spiritual journey through fantasy. An indulgence for my weak and unstructured mind.
I become easily lost. Confused. Torn.
The one big appeal of it for me is its creative nature. But, as a friend would say sarcastically, "As long as your doing it for the right reasons." Granted, she could care less about it for it falls outside of her norm (christian) and is categorized by her as voodoo nonsense. Is my muse that important? More important than who I am as a person in the world? Does feeding my muse make me a better or worse person in society? Is it improving me in any way?
Honestly, no.
So why do I bother? Why do I leave the path of Buddhism so easily whenever an obstacle is presented. Surely I do not care nor do I have to associate myself with those elements that I feel detract from what I believe Buddhism to be.
But yet, here I am again.
All my Buddhist trappings are packed in boxes and hidden in the attic or shed. I erased it all to help me forget about it in order that I could focus on something else. Art. Buddhism ticked me off because the group I was in started looking very much like all the other Western organized religions. Money. Money. Power. Money. I could not take it, so I walked away. Re-embraced my Pagan side.
Yet here I am. Missing Buddhism, again.
Why does my seesaw plagued me so?
Why can't I just be happy with what I have and quit thinking about it?
What is it I am searching for?
UGH.
I wonder what it is I gain spiritually from the Pagan path. It does not offer up any code of conduct for people to practice and improve their way of life. It is all left up to the individual. There are no great philosophical works, no great spiritual teachers, no intellectual forums that discuss the human condition or an answer or solution for it. Often times it feels like empty rituals and role playing. A spiritual journey through fantasy. An indulgence for my weak and unstructured mind.
I become easily lost. Confused. Torn.
The one big appeal of it for me is its creative nature. But, as a friend would say sarcastically, "As long as your doing it for the right reasons." Granted, she could care less about it for it falls outside of her norm (christian) and is categorized by her as voodoo nonsense. Is my muse that important? More important than who I am as a person in the world? Does feeding my muse make me a better or worse person in society? Is it improving me in any way?
Honestly, no.
So why do I bother? Why do I leave the path of Buddhism so easily whenever an obstacle is presented. Surely I do not care nor do I have to associate myself with those elements that I feel detract from what I believe Buddhism to be.
But yet, here I am again.
All my Buddhist trappings are packed in boxes and hidden in the attic or shed. I erased it all to help me forget about it in order that I could focus on something else. Art. Buddhism ticked me off because the group I was in started looking very much like all the other Western organized religions. Money. Money. Power. Money. I could not take it, so I walked away. Re-embraced my Pagan side.
Yet here I am. Missing Buddhism, again.
Why does my seesaw plagued me so?
Why can't I just be happy with what I have and quit thinking about it?
What is it I am searching for?
UGH.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Can It Feel Any Weirder Than This?
Weird.
A word often used when I think of myself.
When Tom and I went our separate ways, I could not imagine life without him.
At the time I was practicing Eclectic Wicca with my Coven in LaPorte. I remember that first night, in the basement of my friend Kim's house: on my knees, sobbing, shaking hands lighting candles and incense, through blurry eyes pleading with the God and Goddess to hear my prayers and fix this broken relationship. I begged them to help Tom see beyond the scars of my past. I begged them to free me from the chains of my abuse to I could be a better person for Tom.
Tom said the reason our relationship was ending was because of me, that all of our problems could be traced back to the fact that I refused to get help concerning my self-mutilation and sexual abuse. The only way he would ever consider a reconciliation was if I got help.
I did not make it to the second night. I told Kim the next day that I would rather kill myself--and I had a plan of action in place--than relive my past with some stranger. I loved Tom, but stirring up all that old pain that I had strive to bury for so many years was too much. Luckily, Kim worked on the mental health ward of the local hospital. She had me committed to, what I lovingly refer to as, GOTHICA.
I was there a little over a week. The entire time searching for help, solace, comfort from my duotheistic gods. To no avail.
Nothing. Instead of comfort, it became worse. I learned that Tom was a cheater. He had been cheating on me from the first year we were together. It seemed as though everyone but me knew about it. While I was in the hospital, he was out living it up... and already moving on by sleeping with several people--in order to find comfort. For somehow, I had gone from the boyfriend with unbearable mood swings who was too difficult to live with because he was always fearful of my self-mutilating turning to something worse, TO, the boyfriend who was abusive. He had told people he was fearful of me. It started as emotional abuse and somehow escalated over time to physical abuse.
And there was no comfort to be found. I was learning all this about my "soul mate" while also attending a very rigorous schedule of counseling and therapy. Thank goodness for the medications they were giving me or I think I definitely would have fallen off the edge.
I was a walking raw nerve. An emotional train wreck. And slowly becoming aware of something... no one, nothing, was coming to my aid. No matter how deeply I prayed, I found no comfort. No outside force was coming to my rescue. No divinity seemed to give a crap that I had suffered, that I was suffering, or that I would probably continue to suffer for quite some time.
If there was some greater power in the universe, it felt as though I had been selected to play out some cosmic joke. Molested for the better part of my childhood and early adolescence. A war torn family unit, that seemed to be my fault. Unspecified seizure disorder courtesy of the government. Gay, which in this country is not exactly a blessing. I could not stop self-mutilating. Night terrors. Panic attacks. Low self esteem. Unbearable depression and mood swings. A twisted sexual fantasy life. And now this... my almost eight year relationship ended a week before the anniversary and it was all planned out.
The whole move to Indiana, the changing the locks of the house, the end of our relationship had been premeditated--and I never saw a bit of it until it was too late.
Why?
The only thing I could think of is: I had been living my life in a fantasy world. I saw what I wanted. Believed what I wanted. All in some miserable attempt at happiness. Blind happiness. Blind love. Blind faith. Blind.
If there are gods, where are they? What have I done to deserve this? Why couldn't they protect me? Spare me some of it?
Fantasy. Was that all my life was? Was that all my religious beliefs were? It sure felt that way. It was like waking from a really convincing dream that takes you a few minutes to realize where you are.
So, I ran away. I ran back to Buddha. His path seemed to help me out when I was first diagnosed with seizures. It helped me out when my family disowned me. It taught nothing except dealing with and being present in this moment. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else truly existed except for this present moment. The past no longer was, the future cannot be known. Therefore, live here, live now.
I jumped back into Buddhism with such fervor. It made sense. It allowed me to deal with things in a whole new light. The past no longer seemed that terrible because it had no power over me. The future no longer seemed so overwhelming because it had not happened yet. It all made sense.
It had too. I had reached bottom and there was no where else to turn.
I packed up all my pagan belongings. Those that held sentimental value I gave away to friends. Those that did not went into boxes that were delivered to the local Goodwill. Along with all the other religious crap I had accumulated over my lifetime of searching. I was stripping my life down, getting rid of all the baggage.
Eventually that would include my past: Tom, family issues, and the childhood abuse.
It has been quite some time since those days. A lot has changed. A lot has not.
Granted, I do not self-mutilate any more. Well, not in the old way. Now I get tattoos and piercings when the urge strikes.
The night terrors have slacked off dramatically. I might have one, maybe two a year. The doctors say that is normal. They will probably never completely stop, but the important thing is that I do not let them gain control.
Not depressed any more. That is this biggest relief. To know that there are other moods out there beyond the torch songs...
My sexual imagination... well, we never got to that. I just keep suppressed as long as I can, and when it needs to surface, I take care of it in my own quiet way. There are some things in life people find hard to express to others in words--this would be that department for me. I use to paint and draw it out, but Tom kept all my art supplies and my artwork. Hopefully he threw it all away with everything else he kept and never looked at or showed anyone else. Not ready to be the next Maplethorp. Not ready to explain it.
My religion... in a word... OY!
I stayed with Buddhism for well over four years. And then I discovered an underside to it I did not like at all: it is an organized religion with all the wonderful trappings I so loathe.
So, I am back to Paganism, again. This week.
It seems I have traded in all that other crap for spiritual crisis. I have my reasons for loving this, and my reasons for loving that, and this again, and that again... why can't I just be happy in one? Stick with just one? Say to myself, "Self! This is the Path I choose. This is the Path we are going to stick with until death do us part!"
A friend asked me what I believed in an attempt to help me figure out where I should be, religiously. That's my problem. I agree with so much of a lot of them, and disagree with just about the same amount. I find just as many flaws in one Path as I do it's pluses. It leaves me, on nights like tonight, on the brink of tears and wanting to pull my hair out.
Kevin has suggested just walking away from all religion. Ugh. I cannot help that I am a spiritually inclined person. Finding that Path seems to be the quest of my current state. A friend Chris says that is the important thing, the quest. But, it is SO frustrating, especially coming from a guy who is so confident in his Buddhist way. Then there are my "pagan" friends. A witch. Her husband, who I have yet to pin down on religious views. A pagan-in-search-of a path. Her agnostic, possibly atheist boyfriend who I discovered has a "darkside" that I feel kindred to. Kevin, who has his own beliefs that don't really fit anything--might be close agnostic, bordering on lethargy. Then I have other friends... Stephen, the Mormon, who wishes on some level I could check my gay sex acts at the door and revel in the ecstasy of his scriptures. Tom, the zen-Buddhist, sometimes Unitarian Universalist, who has a bond to a guru that I have serious doubts about. Ann, the born-again, though she got it right the first time. Dierdre, who attends a church where they speak in tongues. Not sure what that is about. The choices are many...
And I cannot figure out where I belong. Luckily, I know where I do not belong: anything of the Judeo/Christian/Islamic persuasion is out. I like sex, for the most part, when I am not going through my hang-ups and denial phases of it. And, I cannot for the life of me believe that I am condemned, or a sinner, simply based on the fact of who I love. Nor can I believe that books written by men are holy and the final authority on life.
Which leaves very few choices.
And leaves me feeling like a complete basket case because I am constantly wrestling with where I belong. And if I choose one, will I lose all the people that are not a part of the one I have chosen? Will they understand? Will they still want my company? Logic says yes, but there is that little shadow in me that says without those ties they will quickly slip away.
This is so stupid. But there you go. This is how my mind works. And this is just the subject of religion. One day I may endeavour to write about my mind's workings when it comes to my sexual fantasy life. But then again... it's probably best I do not. I am not sure what you can and cannot write on these things. If you decide to get graphic, will they kick you off? I have no idea.
Now I am tired and rambling, but there you are.
I thought this might help. Funny. It has not. Could I possibly feel any weirder?
A word often used when I think of myself.
When Tom and I went our separate ways, I could not imagine life without him.
At the time I was practicing Eclectic Wicca with my Coven in LaPorte. I remember that first night, in the basement of my friend Kim's house: on my knees, sobbing, shaking hands lighting candles and incense, through blurry eyes pleading with the God and Goddess to hear my prayers and fix this broken relationship. I begged them to help Tom see beyond the scars of my past. I begged them to free me from the chains of my abuse to I could be a better person for Tom.
Tom said the reason our relationship was ending was because of me, that all of our problems could be traced back to the fact that I refused to get help concerning my self-mutilation and sexual abuse. The only way he would ever consider a reconciliation was if I got help.
I did not make it to the second night. I told Kim the next day that I would rather kill myself--and I had a plan of action in place--than relive my past with some stranger. I loved Tom, but stirring up all that old pain that I had strive to bury for so many years was too much. Luckily, Kim worked on the mental health ward of the local hospital. She had me committed to, what I lovingly refer to as, GOTHICA.
I was there a little over a week. The entire time searching for help, solace, comfort from my duotheistic gods. To no avail.
Nothing. Instead of comfort, it became worse. I learned that Tom was a cheater. He had been cheating on me from the first year we were together. It seemed as though everyone but me knew about it. While I was in the hospital, he was out living it up... and already moving on by sleeping with several people--in order to find comfort. For somehow, I had gone from the boyfriend with unbearable mood swings who was too difficult to live with because he was always fearful of my self-mutilating turning to something worse, TO, the boyfriend who was abusive. He had told people he was fearful of me. It started as emotional abuse and somehow escalated over time to physical abuse.
And there was no comfort to be found. I was learning all this about my "soul mate" while also attending a very rigorous schedule of counseling and therapy. Thank goodness for the medications they were giving me or I think I definitely would have fallen off the edge.
I was a walking raw nerve. An emotional train wreck. And slowly becoming aware of something... no one, nothing, was coming to my aid. No matter how deeply I prayed, I found no comfort. No outside force was coming to my rescue. No divinity seemed to give a crap that I had suffered, that I was suffering, or that I would probably continue to suffer for quite some time.
If there was some greater power in the universe, it felt as though I had been selected to play out some cosmic joke. Molested for the better part of my childhood and early adolescence. A war torn family unit, that seemed to be my fault. Unspecified seizure disorder courtesy of the government. Gay, which in this country is not exactly a blessing. I could not stop self-mutilating. Night terrors. Panic attacks. Low self esteem. Unbearable depression and mood swings. A twisted sexual fantasy life. And now this... my almost eight year relationship ended a week before the anniversary and it was all planned out.
The whole move to Indiana, the changing the locks of the house, the end of our relationship had been premeditated--and I never saw a bit of it until it was too late.
Why?
The only thing I could think of is: I had been living my life in a fantasy world. I saw what I wanted. Believed what I wanted. All in some miserable attempt at happiness. Blind happiness. Blind love. Blind faith. Blind.
If there are gods, where are they? What have I done to deserve this? Why couldn't they protect me? Spare me some of it?
Fantasy. Was that all my life was? Was that all my religious beliefs were? It sure felt that way. It was like waking from a really convincing dream that takes you a few minutes to realize where you are.
So, I ran away. I ran back to Buddha. His path seemed to help me out when I was first diagnosed with seizures. It helped me out when my family disowned me. It taught nothing except dealing with and being present in this moment. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else truly existed except for this present moment. The past no longer was, the future cannot be known. Therefore, live here, live now.
I jumped back into Buddhism with such fervor. It made sense. It allowed me to deal with things in a whole new light. The past no longer seemed that terrible because it had no power over me. The future no longer seemed so overwhelming because it had not happened yet. It all made sense.
It had too. I had reached bottom and there was no where else to turn.
I packed up all my pagan belongings. Those that held sentimental value I gave away to friends. Those that did not went into boxes that were delivered to the local Goodwill. Along with all the other religious crap I had accumulated over my lifetime of searching. I was stripping my life down, getting rid of all the baggage.
Eventually that would include my past: Tom, family issues, and the childhood abuse.
It has been quite some time since those days. A lot has changed. A lot has not.
Granted, I do not self-mutilate any more. Well, not in the old way. Now I get tattoos and piercings when the urge strikes.
The night terrors have slacked off dramatically. I might have one, maybe two a year. The doctors say that is normal. They will probably never completely stop, but the important thing is that I do not let them gain control.
Not depressed any more. That is this biggest relief. To know that there are other moods out there beyond the torch songs...
My sexual imagination... well, we never got to that. I just keep suppressed as long as I can, and when it needs to surface, I take care of it in my own quiet way. There are some things in life people find hard to express to others in words--this would be that department for me. I use to paint and draw it out, but Tom kept all my art supplies and my artwork. Hopefully he threw it all away with everything else he kept and never looked at or showed anyone else. Not ready to be the next Maplethorp. Not ready to explain it.
My religion... in a word... OY!
I stayed with Buddhism for well over four years. And then I discovered an underside to it I did not like at all: it is an organized religion with all the wonderful trappings I so loathe.
So, I am back to Paganism, again. This week.
It seems I have traded in all that other crap for spiritual crisis. I have my reasons for loving this, and my reasons for loving that, and this again, and that again... why can't I just be happy in one? Stick with just one? Say to myself, "Self! This is the Path I choose. This is the Path we are going to stick with until death do us part!"
A friend asked me what I believed in an attempt to help me figure out where I should be, religiously. That's my problem. I agree with so much of a lot of them, and disagree with just about the same amount. I find just as many flaws in one Path as I do it's pluses. It leaves me, on nights like tonight, on the brink of tears and wanting to pull my hair out.
Kevin has suggested just walking away from all religion. Ugh. I cannot help that I am a spiritually inclined person. Finding that Path seems to be the quest of my current state. A friend Chris says that is the important thing, the quest. But, it is SO frustrating, especially coming from a guy who is so confident in his Buddhist way. Then there are my "pagan" friends. A witch. Her husband, who I have yet to pin down on religious views. A pagan-in-search-of a path. Her agnostic, possibly atheist boyfriend who I discovered has a "darkside" that I feel kindred to. Kevin, who has his own beliefs that don't really fit anything--might be close agnostic, bordering on lethargy. Then I have other friends... Stephen, the Mormon, who wishes on some level I could check my gay sex acts at the door and revel in the ecstasy of his scriptures. Tom, the zen-Buddhist, sometimes Unitarian Universalist, who has a bond to a guru that I have serious doubts about. Ann, the born-again, though she got it right the first time. Dierdre, who attends a church where they speak in tongues. Not sure what that is about. The choices are many...
And I cannot figure out where I belong. Luckily, I know where I do not belong: anything of the Judeo/Christian/Islamic persuasion is out. I like sex, for the most part, when I am not going through my hang-ups and denial phases of it. And, I cannot for the life of me believe that I am condemned, or a sinner, simply based on the fact of who I love. Nor can I believe that books written by men are holy and the final authority on life.
Which leaves very few choices.
And leaves me feeling like a complete basket case because I am constantly wrestling with where I belong. And if I choose one, will I lose all the people that are not a part of the one I have chosen? Will they understand? Will they still want my company? Logic says yes, but there is that little shadow in me that says without those ties they will quickly slip away.
This is so stupid. But there you go. This is how my mind works. And this is just the subject of religion. One day I may endeavour to write about my mind's workings when it comes to my sexual fantasy life. But then again... it's probably best I do not. I am not sure what you can and cannot write on these things. If you decide to get graphic, will they kick you off? I have no idea.
Now I am tired and rambling, but there you are.
I thought this might help. Funny. It has not. Could I possibly feel any weirder?
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Wiccan Mythology
I may be the only one, but I would truly enjoy a well developed Wiccan Mythology.
I see a lot of problems in the borrowing of other existing cultures pantheons and incorporating them as something Wiccan. What has been given us is a crude outline of the cycle of life for the Seasons and of our God and Goddess. I think if this story was better envisioned we might not need those cute little sections in the back of all the Wiccan 101 books that list Deities from the existing Pantheons as a "pick and you choose" as you will buffet. It is an insult to those groups and a little ignorant on our part.
We should embrace our God and Goddess and learn their story. Give voice to who They are through spiritual communion. We need not look any further than our own backyards to learn this story. Pray, honor, worship and listen. Let them guide us. Let them use us to bring their lessons to life and help us to develop a Wiccan mythology that is it's own and free from borrowing the names and attributes of others Holy Ones.
Well, at least that is what I hope to do in upcoming blogs. Below is a rough draft of some existing material I found online. I will add to it as I find other bits and pieces. From there, through my own personal experiences with honoring the God and Goddess, I hope to paint a more vivid and cohesive mythos for this budding religion of ours. It is a dream...
NOTES: concerning the Wheel of the Year and current renderings of the God and Goddess story through the Seasons.
(Our days start at sundown on the previous day. Therefore, "November 1" is actually the night of October 31 through the day of November 1.)
Samhain (sow' en) - Major Sabbat
Oct 31-Nov 1
Wiccan mythology:
The death of the God
The Goddess enters her Dark phase as she mourns her son and consort, and the Dark God takes up the rulership of Winter, leading the Wild Hunt.
Yule (yool) - Minor Sabbat
Also know as Midwinter, Winter solstice (around December 22)
Wiccan mythology:
The birth of the God
Imbolc (im' molc) or (im' bolc) - Major Sabbat
February 1
Wiccan mythology:
Goddess recovers from childbirth, becomes Maiden.
The child God continues to mature, as can be witnessed in the lengthening days.
The Crone Goddess of Winter makes way for the Maiden, who has recovered from childbirth and prepares the earth to begin its growth cycle once more.
Eostara (os tar' a) - Minor Sabbat
Vernal equinox (around March 22)
Wiccan mythology:
Sexual union of the Goddess and God
Beltaine - Major Sabbat
May 1
Wiccan mythology:
Sexual union and/or marriage of the Goddess and God
On Beltaine, the Light God has matured to the age of rulership and takes over from the Dark God. The pregnant Goddess becomes Mother.
Litha - Minor Sabbat
Also known as Midsummer and Summer solstice (around June 22)
Wiccan mythology:
Apex of the God's life
Celebrating the God's life, when the God transforms from young warrior to aging sage.
Lughnasadh (loo' na sah) or (loon' sah) - Major Sabbat
Also known as Lammas, August 1
Wiccan mythology:
Aging God and preparation for the God's impending death.
The Goddess enters her phase as Crone.
Mabon - Minor Sabbat
Autumnal equinox (around September 22)
Wiccan mythology:
Decline of the God
I see a lot of problems in the borrowing of other existing cultures pantheons and incorporating them as something Wiccan. What has been given us is a crude outline of the cycle of life for the Seasons and of our God and Goddess. I think if this story was better envisioned we might not need those cute little sections in the back of all the Wiccan 101 books that list Deities from the existing Pantheons as a "pick and you choose" as you will buffet. It is an insult to those groups and a little ignorant on our part.
We should embrace our God and Goddess and learn their story. Give voice to who They are through spiritual communion. We need not look any further than our own backyards to learn this story. Pray, honor, worship and listen. Let them guide us. Let them use us to bring their lessons to life and help us to develop a Wiccan mythology that is it's own and free from borrowing the names and attributes of others Holy Ones.
Well, at least that is what I hope to do in upcoming blogs. Below is a rough draft of some existing material I found online. I will add to it as I find other bits and pieces. From there, through my own personal experiences with honoring the God and Goddess, I hope to paint a more vivid and cohesive mythos for this budding religion of ours. It is a dream...
NOTES: concerning the Wheel of the Year and current renderings of the God and Goddess story through the Seasons.
(Our days start at sundown on the previous day. Therefore, "November 1" is actually the night of October 31 through the day of November 1.)
Samhain (sow' en) - Major Sabbat
Oct 31-Nov 1
Wiccan mythology:
The death of the God
The Goddess enters her Dark phase as she mourns her son and consort, and the Dark God takes up the rulership of Winter, leading the Wild Hunt.
Yule (yool) - Minor Sabbat
Also know as Midwinter, Winter solstice (around December 22)
Wiccan mythology:
The birth of the God
Imbolc (im' molc) or (im' bolc) - Major Sabbat
February 1
Wiccan mythology:
Goddess recovers from childbirth, becomes Maiden.
The child God continues to mature, as can be witnessed in the lengthening days.
The Crone Goddess of Winter makes way for the Maiden, who has recovered from childbirth and prepares the earth to begin its growth cycle once more.
Eostara (os tar' a) - Minor Sabbat
Vernal equinox (around March 22)
Wiccan mythology:
Sexual union of the Goddess and God
Beltaine - Major Sabbat
May 1
Wiccan mythology:
Sexual union and/or marriage of the Goddess and God
On Beltaine, the Light God has matured to the age of rulership and takes over from the Dark God. The pregnant Goddess becomes Mother.
Litha - Minor Sabbat
Also known as Midsummer and Summer solstice (around June 22)
Wiccan mythology:
Apex of the God's life
Celebrating the God's life, when the God transforms from young warrior to aging sage.
Lughnasadh (loo' na sah) or (loon' sah) - Major Sabbat
Also known as Lammas, August 1
Wiccan mythology:
Aging God and preparation for the God's impending death.
The Goddess enters her phase as Crone.
Mabon - Minor Sabbat
Autumnal equinox (around September 22)
Wiccan mythology:
Decline of the God
Epileptic, Oklahoma
(note: this was written many years ago, before my seizures were under control)
The hospital came to a halt when every window in the complex began to rattle uncontrollably. In the distance a low and unnatural thunder rolled its way across the flat horizon. When the rattling glass and thunder had ceased, all that remained was silence: no one spoke; phones did not ring; the air was sill; birds had stopped singing. For a brief moment it seemed as though the world had stopped breathing and this peaceful silence was Death's harbinger. This silence awakened a horror that would stalk me the rest of my life.
At approximately 9:30 in the morning on April 19th 1995, a chorus of ringing phones throughout the hospital, where I worked, broke the silence. When I answered my station's phone I discovered it was the National Disaster Preparedness Team (I was just assigned to this team three months prior) signaling for all members to scramble immediately.
Before I knew what was going on, I was standing knee deep in what once had been the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building. At 9:01 that morning, a bomb had ripped a hole in the center of downtown Oklahoma City. I was assigned to search and recovery.
All day I sifted through the twisted rubble and dust. With each piece of concrete I lifted, I hoped to find someone. My body was in sad shape: my mouth was dry; my head was pounding; my muscles ached and throbbed; eyes burned from all the dust and fumes that choked the air. After three and a half hours of searching I made my first and last recovery: a head.
I was mesmerized and sickened by what I held. The sheer oddity of it was unreal. I knew that I was staring at a person's decapitated head. The fact that it was inside a broken computer monitor and had become fused with the glass and plastic made it difficult to accept. That is when everything went silent again, and then faded to black.
I was informed later that I had been rushed to a local hospital because I had suffered several grand mal seizures. Apparently the stress of what I had seen and experienced triggered the seizures. The silence I experienced in the rubble is called an aura. It is my body's signal that a seizure is coming. The only way I have ever been able to describe it is by that silence I experienced the day the bomb went off in Oklahoma City--like the Earth herself stopped breathing. Considering I have at least one seizure every month, I am constantly reminded of that day and of the head within a broken monitor.
The hospital came to a halt when every window in the complex began to rattle uncontrollably. In the distance a low and unnatural thunder rolled its way across the flat horizon. When the rattling glass and thunder had ceased, all that remained was silence: no one spoke; phones did not ring; the air was sill; birds had stopped singing. For a brief moment it seemed as though the world had stopped breathing and this peaceful silence was Death's harbinger. This silence awakened a horror that would stalk me the rest of my life.
At approximately 9:30 in the morning on April 19th 1995, a chorus of ringing phones throughout the hospital, where I worked, broke the silence. When I answered my station's phone I discovered it was the National Disaster Preparedness Team (I was just assigned to this team three months prior) signaling for all members to scramble immediately.
Before I knew what was going on, I was standing knee deep in what once had been the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building. At 9:01 that morning, a bomb had ripped a hole in the center of downtown Oklahoma City. I was assigned to search and recovery.
All day I sifted through the twisted rubble and dust. With each piece of concrete I lifted, I hoped to find someone. My body was in sad shape: my mouth was dry; my head was pounding; my muscles ached and throbbed; eyes burned from all the dust and fumes that choked the air. After three and a half hours of searching I made my first and last recovery: a head.
I was mesmerized and sickened by what I held. The sheer oddity of it was unreal. I knew that I was staring at a person's decapitated head. The fact that it was inside a broken computer monitor and had become fused with the glass and plastic made it difficult to accept. That is when everything went silent again, and then faded to black.
I was informed later that I had been rushed to a local hospital because I had suffered several grand mal seizures. Apparently the stress of what I had seen and experienced triggered the seizures. The silence I experienced in the rubble is called an aura. It is my body's signal that a seizure is coming. The only way I have ever been able to describe it is by that silence I experienced the day the bomb went off in Oklahoma City--like the Earth herself stopped breathing. Considering I have at least one seizure every month, I am constantly reminded of that day and of the head within a broken monitor.
Monday, February 15, 2010
GRIPE
I have a little gripe about something I noticed recently... wonder what you might think.
Llewllyn Worldwide
They are by far, the largest publishing house of all things Wiccan and Pagan for the Western hemisphere. And, being such a gigantic voice you would assume they hold true some of the basic principles or ideals of the community they represent, right?
I had assumed this for a long time.
They were the publishing house of one of my favorite author (Scott Cunningham) when I first started down this Path back in the late eighties. When I joined my first coven (Church of Magick; Dragon Tradition) in Indiana, I ran into some opposition of what had been in my mind, the leaders of bringing Paganism to the forefront--Llewllyn. My new tribe had nothing good to say about them: they edited too much out, they changed the original intent, they watered everything down and were the leading cause of what came to be known in our Circle as the "Fuzzy-B.M.", (fuzzy bunny movement: clueless practitioners with a cut and paste mentality... also known as posers or fashionably Wiccan.). I did not agree or disagree with them at the time, because I really did not know too much on the subject and did not find it very important. I kept my love of Scott Cunningham to myself when in their presence.
Over the years I have grown to loathe the Pagan/New Age section at bookstores. What once was a sanctuary had now become a thorn. To me, no matter the Publishing house, all Pagan and Wiccan books seemed the same to me--Introductions, 101's and how-to's. It was boring...
But I digress.
My gripe.
To me, one of the basics of Western Paganism is that it is a Nature-based spirituality. In some way, shape or fashion, no matter what Path or Tradition you follow, the Earth, Gaia, Nature, whatever, is sacred to us. We are typically the biggest proponents of a more Green society--trying to save that which is most sacred to us, our Environment.
But yet, there is Llewllyn.
I first discovered something was amiss with them when I was reading a recipe in my Witches' datebook a couple of years ago. Everything being used in it was either processed, canned or frozen and picked up at your local grocer. A light went off in my head. WHY were they not saying things like "organic" or "locally grown" or "farmer's market" or at least "fresh"? So I scanned the little datebook and discovered that all the recipes were like this.And all the articles were written in a 101 mindset...
AND worst of all, I could not find the RECYCLE emblem anywhere on my datebook. No suggestion to recycle or that it had been created from any percentage of Recycled waste.
So I ran to my bookshelf and started tearing through all of my Pagan books... the same. Not a single one was created using post consumer recyclables.
I have yet to find a book on green living by any of our leading pagan authors.
I have yet to find anything online about how Llewllyn (or any other capitalist Pagan Org or Inc) is leading the way in this green revolution that has started.I find this all very disturbing.
And yet one of our leading periodicals, Pan Gaia, in their 5oth issue salutes the work of Carl Llewllyn... which, granted, bringing the Pagan community into the light is a HUGE accomplishment, but if you are breaking one of that communities leading and most basic tenants, should you really be saluted? And also in this issue they saluted the most influential pagans of our time, but no where was there a category for Environmental Action or Activists.
We are the religious movement of NATURE.
We are Nature's guardians.
We are supposedly Nature-Based Religions...REALLY??? Maybe individuals within these groups ARE, but as a whole, I think we may have missed the boat. Our leaders have dropped the ball and are turning our Earth-Based Faiths into the hypocrisies of all the other religions that we were/are trying to escape. Have they become so entranced by the BIG GREEN dollar that they themselves have become Fuzzy-B.M.'s?
If we want our religious identities to be taken as seriously as our neighbors' in this world then we need to ask those within the public spotlight, what are you doing to promote us as a TRUE Nature-based religious movement? They need to be held accountable before we are the biggest joke next to clean burning coal.
AND if the powers-that-be cannot, then it is up to all of us to change this.
When our Judeo-Christian-Islamic brothers and sisters think of Pagans, the Devil should not be the first thing that comes to their minds... it should be NATURE LOVING fanatics, Eco-terrorists, tree huggers, RECYCLE thumpers. WE should be the face of the GREEN movement! Llewllyn, AzureGreen, whoever, should be leading this movement. ALL of our periodicals should at least have a section or column on this. If our authors are searching for something new to write about beyond the 101 manuals (of which there are way too many) here is a WHOLE area you have missed out on. The Spirituality of the Green Way of Life. There is a title of a best seller if ever I saw one.
By the Gods! What have we done to ourselves? We have been so focused on equality of our religious freedoms and trying to educate the world of our legitimacy and the fact that we are not evil cults that we forgot the most basic and over looked cause of our Traditions... Mother Earth.
How can this be changed?
Does anyone else out there care?
Mother Earth, Sky Father, forgive us.
--Mouse.
Llewllyn Worldwide
They are by far, the largest publishing house of all things Wiccan and Pagan for the Western hemisphere. And, being such a gigantic voice you would assume they hold true some of the basic principles or ideals of the community they represent, right?
I had assumed this for a long time.
They were the publishing house of one of my favorite author (Scott Cunningham) when I first started down this Path back in the late eighties. When I joined my first coven (Church of Magick; Dragon Tradition) in Indiana, I ran into some opposition of what had been in my mind, the leaders of bringing Paganism to the forefront--Llewllyn. My new tribe had nothing good to say about them: they edited too much out, they changed the original intent, they watered everything down and were the leading cause of what came to be known in our Circle as the "Fuzzy-B.M.", (fuzzy bunny movement: clueless practitioners with a cut and paste mentality... also known as posers or fashionably Wiccan.). I did not agree or disagree with them at the time, because I really did not know too much on the subject and did not find it very important. I kept my love of Scott Cunningham to myself when in their presence.
Over the years I have grown to loathe the Pagan/New Age section at bookstores. What once was a sanctuary had now become a thorn. To me, no matter the Publishing house, all Pagan and Wiccan books seemed the same to me--Introductions, 101's and how-to's. It was boring...
But I digress.
My gripe.
To me, one of the basics of Western Paganism is that it is a Nature-based spirituality. In some way, shape or fashion, no matter what Path or Tradition you follow, the Earth, Gaia, Nature, whatever, is sacred to us. We are typically the biggest proponents of a more Green society--trying to save that which is most sacred to us, our Environment.
But yet, there is Llewllyn.
I first discovered something was amiss with them when I was reading a recipe in my Witches' datebook a couple of years ago. Everything being used in it was either processed, canned or frozen and picked up at your local grocer. A light went off in my head. WHY were they not saying things like "organic" or "locally grown" or "farmer's market" or at least "fresh"? So I scanned the little datebook and discovered that all the recipes were like this.And all the articles were written in a 101 mindset...
AND worst of all, I could not find the RECYCLE emblem anywhere on my datebook. No suggestion to recycle or that it had been created from any percentage of Recycled waste.
So I ran to my bookshelf and started tearing through all of my Pagan books... the same. Not a single one was created using post consumer recyclables.
I have yet to find a book on green living by any of our leading pagan authors.
I have yet to find anything online about how Llewllyn (or any other capitalist Pagan Org or Inc) is leading the way in this green revolution that has started.I find this all very disturbing.
And yet one of our leading periodicals, Pan Gaia, in their 5oth issue salutes the work of Carl Llewllyn... which, granted, bringing the Pagan community into the light is a HUGE accomplishment, but if you are breaking one of that communities leading and most basic tenants, should you really be saluted? And also in this issue they saluted the most influential pagans of our time, but no where was there a category for Environmental Action or Activists.
We are the religious movement of NATURE.
We are Nature's guardians.
We are supposedly Nature-Based Religions...REALLY??? Maybe individuals within these groups ARE, but as a whole, I think we may have missed the boat. Our leaders have dropped the ball and are turning our Earth-Based Faiths into the hypocrisies of all the other religions that we were/are trying to escape. Have they become so entranced by the BIG GREEN dollar that they themselves have become Fuzzy-B.M.'s?
If we want our religious identities to be taken as seriously as our neighbors' in this world then we need to ask those within the public spotlight, what are you doing to promote us as a TRUE Nature-based religious movement? They need to be held accountable before we are the biggest joke next to clean burning coal.
AND if the powers-that-be cannot, then it is up to all of us to change this.
When our Judeo-Christian-Islamic brothers and sisters think of Pagans, the Devil should not be the first thing that comes to their minds... it should be NATURE LOVING fanatics, Eco-terrorists, tree huggers, RECYCLE thumpers. WE should be the face of the GREEN movement! Llewllyn, AzureGreen, whoever, should be leading this movement. ALL of our periodicals should at least have a section or column on this. If our authors are searching for something new to write about beyond the 101 manuals (of which there are way too many) here is a WHOLE area you have missed out on. The Spirituality of the Green Way of Life. There is a title of a best seller if ever I saw one.
By the Gods! What have we done to ourselves? We have been so focused on equality of our religious freedoms and trying to educate the world of our legitimacy and the fact that we are not evil cults that we forgot the most basic and over looked cause of our Traditions... Mother Earth.
How can this be changed?
Does anyone else out there care?
Mother Earth, Sky Father, forgive us.
--Mouse.
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