branches up, roots down

This column caused more of a stir/controversy than all of my others....people are still gossiping about it. START MAKING SCENTS GOOD DISH By Oak The best meals I've ever had have been feasts for the senses. The food tastes wonderful, the smells are exquisite, everything looks beautiful, there is at least one thing I lay my hands on to eat, and there's something delicious to hear and converse about. The conversation can range from world events to the torrid affair a mutual friend is having, but one thing is for sure; good dish, or gossip, is as necessary at a memorable feast as the main entrée. As witches, we bless our ritual feasts and say "may you never hunger, may you never thirst" to those near. To this could be added a wish for an abundance of good gossip. As a long time member of the Reclaiming, I have become accustomed to the occasional tirade against gossip by someone in our community. Gossip can be delicious, satisfying, entertaining, loving and fun....

This was the last column I wrote for the Reclaiming Quarterly, written a month before the start of the war in Iraq. It was not printed as the Quarterly had had enough of me and fired me as a columnist. I found it ironic given the subject of this column.... a challenge itself to my fierce optimism! Start Making Scents A Fierce Optimism By Oak Once again; in the dark of the year, my thoughts turn to what is needed to bring back the light in these terrible times. For once, I do not feel like Cassandra issuing dire warnings to a country that sees me as crazy. I think that no matter the political agenda or view, there is mass consensus that (pardon my English) things are fucked. One identifying characteristic of witches is that we are metaphysical meddlers. Most of us have gotten busy trying to change the situation at hand, whether by overt political action or simply by burning candles devoted to peace. I have heard much talk about binding, and although I won't focus on that here, bi...

On Valentine’s Day, an enormous cold front rolled into town. Here on Sunday, five days later, it still hasn’t left. It feels like the whole city is in shock, like the cold drink of winter was splashed back in our face, just as we were getting use to intoxication of spring. It’s been a hard week. I spent the evening of Valentine’s Day seeing a slew of couples. I’d tried to convince them last week that it might not be the healthiest thing to go to couples therapy on Valentine’s Day, but none of them were having it, several calling it a “Hallmark Holiday”. In my book, it’s the one holiday not associated with a religion, or war, or a famous dude, but one purely focused on celebrating love. After a friend pointed out that so many of my past pledges to Brigid in some way or shape involved relationships with others, I made my pledge this year to fully embark on a romance/love affair with myself. My birthday week was a great start, but I should have not seen those couples on Tuesday. I...

It’s been a glorious past few days here in San Francisco . The trees are in full blossom, everything is greening, and the city is giddy with spring. I’ve had an incredible birthday week, culminating in this weekend, which then ended in today….which just happens to be the birthday of one of my dearest friends…Reya Mellicker, blog queen of Washington, D.C. The fates decided that the majority of women I’ve loved in my life would make an appearance center stage this week, and today I woke up mindful and heartfull that this was the anniversary of my dear friend's entrance into being. Last Sunday’s table full of women friends appears to have worked as some sort of great invocation, calling in all women friends, bringing them strongly into focus. Strings were pulled taut and women I’ve been corded to showed up out of the blue, out of the past and out of our last conversation. My friendship with Naomi was one of the gifts from my birthday last year. This year I spent the...

One of the unexpected gifts of my birthday was Rose sending me this poem, saying she'd heard about the Brigid magic and doesn't do blogs, but here was a poem. So here it is...cast out into blogosphere, reminding me so much of the goings on at the Black Cat House, home to her and Starhawk and where I met weekly for so many years when I was in coven with them. I know all the cast of characters except Jose. Their struggles with Frances have gone on for years now. I haven't stepped foot in the Black Cat for at least two years and maybe never will again, I don't know. I'm savoring this moment of affection. Poetry has the power to heal. The white blossoms on France's plum tree twisting me in figure eight reverie the other egg on the eight my white and curly soft and fluffy utterly squishy pup But now Frances more and more insane has had her man Jose butcher the tree, chop all the top away it looks like hell. Star told here (thank goddess) leave the part that rises ove...

In the past year I’ve been combing thru the teachings of both Feri and Reclaiming, questioning what still works for me and what needs refinement, if not downright jettisoning. In the last few days I’ve been thinking about what Victor Anderson, the founder of Feri, had to say about birthdays. Victor stated that our birthday is the most important pagan holiday. The day of our birth, and the birthdays of those we love, is certainly worth holding in high spiritual regard. It’s a miracle, this gift of birth, this gift of life. It makes sense that we honor and celebrate it, remembering that our own personal journey thru the lifecycle reverberates with the stories of the god/desses, is in fact the story of one divinity within a pantheon of other divine beings. However, I don’t believe that the day of our birth is the most important holiday; I think it’s here that Victor’s weakness for the grand pronouncement shows, and the “I” ness of Feri reveals itself. Holding the celebrati...

Last night was the Reclaiming Brigid ritual, one in the past I have loved, but I had no desire to go this year, feeling deeply estranged from the local energy body of Reclaiming. I heard the anvil has gone missing, and a new one had to be purchased. I wonder what that augurs, what that signifies in the magical realms. For me, the most incredible piece of magic done this Brigid has got to be the poetry that Reya elicited in blogdom. I will be savoring it for months to come, I’m sure. Between the worlds, the beauty of it continues to emanate. My two goddess daughters dropped by my house with some friends, one who has taken magic classes from me since her freshman year in high school. They were off to the Reclaiming ritual, and were just in time to have my friend Nancy hand off to them water she had just brought back from New Orleans . Nancy is brilliant at figuring out ways to raise money that go towards things that make a difference. She was in New Orleans figuring out ...

Over twenty some years ago I was part of planning a Reclaiming public ritual for Brigid, Goddess of Poetry, Smithcraft, and Healing. It was Imbolc, or Candlemas, what most Americans know of as Groundhog day, that place on the wheel where you tune in to the first signs of spring. As part of the ritual, we decided to have each member of the community make a pledge for the coming year. Little did I know at the time that this would become a steadfast annual tradition, that these pledges would mold and shape my experience within the spiral of the persistent seasons. This past year was shaped by my pledge to learn the difference between what was dead and what was alive, and to give my energy and heart to what was living. Oh! What a pledge that has turned out to be! After sharing a dinner and a movie together last night, I kissed goodnight the lover who I was so earnestly trying to accept was dead to me a year ago, savoring the constant hellos and goodbyes of living things, and the shifts tha...