branches up, roots down

After returning from my uncle’s funeral, I cleared pictures of the dead off the altar and removed all traces of the festival of Samhain. With every day, the dark of winter encroaches. All last week we had beautiful weather here in San Francisco , warm and bright. On Thanksgiving, a cold front moved in. Winter is here. Putting away the remains of Samhain, I found myself hesitant to bring out the Solstice decorations. I’m going more slowly into this season, and I’m not quite sure why. Usually at this time, the house is full of a variety of craft projects, which started a week or so after Samhain and fill the house by the time Solstice comes. Instead, yesterday after clearing the altars, I finished up the last (for the time being) of the spirit bottles, and still am not sure what gifts I want to make. I’m settling into this time of unsureness. I’m unsure of my spiritual affiliations, unsure of what craft projects to embark on, unsure of whether to work on some relationships o...

One of the life themes running thru this past year or so has been the reviewing of my spiritual affiliations. This theme rears its head again and again, and hit me full force this last couple of weeks, and from a variety of directions. My son is in eighth grade, and is in the process of applying to San Francisco high schools. He’s decided he really wants to go to Catholic school. He can play football there, and being raised fully pagan, he’s interested in learning about Catholism. Going to Catholic school will perfectly suit him. He can pull my chain by threatening to convert, and I’m sure he’ll be asking questions at school such as “do we really think monotheism is such a good idea?” So, as I fill out the applications to the several Catholic schools in the city, I’ve found myself checking off the box for “Spiritual/Non-Affiliated”. There’s no box for Witch, Wiccan , or Pagan. As I’ve checked the boxes, I’ve wondered at the truth in it. I am spriritual, and m...

Before Samhain, I felt called to make a spirit bottle for Marie Laveau, the legendary New Orleans voodoo priestess from the 1800’s. One of the highlights of my last visit to New Orleans was seeking out her tomb. Power radiated from it, perhaps because of the vast array of offerings that had been left, making it a breathtaking altar. As I worked on the bottle, I felt I needed to know more about her, so ordered what books I could find online, all of them used and at a good price. When I opened the first one that came, Voodoo Dreams, my mouth fell open and a shiver ran up my spine. Written inside the front cover, in the handwriting I know so well, was my mother’s name. Having trouble believing my own eyes, I called my mother and asked her if she had ever read a book on Marie Laveau. She answered immediately; “The Voodoo queen? Oh yes, I’ve always been interested in Voodoo!” This was news to me. She proceeded to tell me about a business trip she had taken years...

Today I had the strange experience of viewing my own heart. It was awesome. I don’t mean that in the surfer dude sort of way. Seeing my own heart filled me with awe, the simple beauty of the steady beat, the contraction and expansion, the emptying and then filling. The ultrasound technician noticed my tears welling up and smiled broadly. “It’s incredible, isn’t it?”, he said. Yes, incredible. Seeing it, I remembered so clearly the first time in pregnancy I saw my son’s heartbeat, looking like a little light blinking on and off in the kidney bean of his body. After my recent illness, I took leap and scheduled a doctor’s visit, something I haven’t done in five years. I have something close to a phobia regarding doctors. I don’t do an annual pap, and have never had a mammogram. My mistrust of western medicine is high. I generally regard it as something to use as a last resort, or in case of disaster, like broken bones and non-stop bleeding. The paper gowns and lon...

What a Samhain season! The days have been jam packed for weeks. After my illness,I had a burst of creative energy, feeling compelled to make more and more spirit bottles with all my old Mardi Gras beads, which then brought into focus my old connection to Voodoo. With that percolating in me, I flew with my son to Minneapolis to be part of the weekend long wedding party for Reclaiming priestess Donald Engstrom and his beloved Mark. We stayed at what my son called the Haunted Mansion and alternatively, the Hostile Hostel. Then back to San Francisco just in time to put on a big party in honor of the Day of the Dead. At the same time, Anne-Marie arrived from England to join Georgia, who’d also traveled with us to Minneapolis , in preparing for their Reclaiming Feri initiation. I initiated them last Saturday, and they left on Monday. I have several blogs in me about all of the above, and hopefully in the coming days, I will have time to write them. So mote it be!