realignment

My friend Fern, who among her many talents is an excellent body worker, has been on me for quite awhile to go to her chiropractor. She’s insisted that my lower back is out of whack in a way that can’t be addressed with massage. I’ve resisted, for unclear reasons. I suppose it just wasn’t time.

Last week I was ready for the changes realignment might bring and so I put myself into Eric’s hands, who turned out to be one of those intuitive healers the Bay Area is graced with. I came out of his office feeling the light headedness of big change. I had been “adjusted”.

So, this week my body has been struggling between accepting this realignment and going back to its old way of holding itself. Mind and spirit have followed suite. Letting go of old pain seems to be the theme, as well as accessing more energy. Thankfully, body, mind, and spirit seem to be united in an effort to settle into this new alignment, to be less constricted. It was time.

This week I exercised more than I have done in a year, swimming regularly again and riding my bike to work. It helps that my girlfriend just added me on to her membership at the swankiest gym in town. But, hey, who believes in coincidence?

My feelings of discomfort concerning Reclaiming, the spiritual tradition I’ve been associated with for over 25 years, also went thru a major readjustment. I joined a newly formed teacher’s guild about a year ago, and this past Sunday we offered a salon. Here’s the description:

What Are We Reclaiming? An Afternoon Salon
Join us in an afternoon salon in which we invoke the questioning
attitude in regards to Reclaiming. Is Reclaiming a tradition, a community, a
network, a cult, or all of the above? Does simply calling yourself a Reclaiming
Witch and saying you embrace the principles of unity make you a Reclaiming
Witch? What does it mean to embrace the principles of unity? What happens when
individuals and communities disagree on what that means? Reclaiming has
been around over two decades. Has some of what we set out to reclaim
been accomplished? If so, what is the intent of Reclaiming now?

These questions didn’t get answered, but there was magic in the asking, Other than checking in and introducing ourselves and giving a little bit of our history in regards to Reclaiming, we only got as far as discussing the difference between a community and a tradition, throwing out words and concepts we associated with both, and then naming what we individually found most important and also what we offer to community and tradition. What seemed important was that there was a space for questions to be asked, for dialogue to ensue. It was noted by one person that Reclaiming classes and the witchcamp culture have gotten better at eliciting feedback, but not dialogue. Rich dialogue was what was being invoked and invited here. With dialogue, I breathe easier.

Two women other than guild members stated that one of their gifts to community and tradition is a social and political analysis. Yes. Thank the Goddess. The impasse I’ve had with local Reclaiming is that those who apply this to the community and tradition have been perceived and proclaimed by several long-time priestesses as attacking others and having personal problems. One thing I’ve learned over the years is that no matter how many times you say you have a problem with the structure, not the people in the structure, and it continues to be framed as personal, eventually it will not only be a problem with the structure you have, but with the people. When both occur, working together becomes insufferable at best, toxic and twisted at worst.

As my lower back releases, so does the mighty twist I’ve been in for years. Was it the questions that drew those to the salon who were skilled at and comfortable with looking beneath the surface of things? A non-profit consultant, an anthropologist, and a psychiatrist were among the many thoughtful folks who filled the room. As the afternoon went on, I found myself settling into something I had not felt locally in ages. I felt pride in my tradition and good about being in a community of folks who were part of my tradition. Although I’ve been teaching for the past many years and drawing students I respect, its been ages since I’ve been in a circle of , outside of my friends and guild members, “wider community” where I felt energized and intellectually and spiritually challenged. I’ve gotten this in other places, notably last year at Spiralheart and before that in England with the Avalon community. But not in the Bay Area. Sunday, that changed.

Today I’ll go swimming again, and probably post the date of our next salon on several Reclaiming lists, which happens to be Sunday, May 20^th. The twist in my back is releasing, and I’m learning to hold myself in another way. It’s time I trust that support is there to hold me up. This week, I find myself buoyant.

the power of three

Saturday night found me at the Grand Slam Finals of the Annual Youth Speaks Teen Poetry Slam. Riding thru a city with people in green spilling out of every vaguely Irish tavern, it struck me as fitting that I was going to a poetry slam. The Irish love the word, and words were what was being celebrated tonight at the Masonic Hall, high atop one of our most prestigious hills, Nob Hill.

Perfect too, given my current ruminations on listening, silence, and speaking. The Master of Ceremony of the evening was the incredible Beau Sia, and he started out saying something to the tune of “Make some noise; your silence won’t protect you”. “Make some noise” is the refrain of all the Youth Speaks events I’ve gone to. It means giving the poets a rousing applause, and of course, it means speaking out.

In Youth Speaks culture, speaking out and speaking up is a virtue, each sentence crafted to be an arrow of truth aimed at opening hearts and changing minds. The teenagers are courageous, revealing with their poems lives and experiences that most teens are encouraged to keep silent, with the diversity of these lives and experiences being truly stunning. By the end, I couldn’t absorb any more. I was full, satiated. The arrows had all found their mark, my heart was open, my mind swirling with new ways of looking things. One other poem would have been overkill.

Last night found me on Bernal Hill, one of San Francisco’s few green hills, which lies south of downtown and provides a breathtaking view of the larger city. I was at a candlelight vigil for peace, one of many around the country and around the city. Pieces of paper were passed around which contained snippets of stories about those who have died in the war. We each read one of these passages, and between each passage we paused and had a moment of silence. “Pause for reflection” was written on the paper. Perfect.

Pause for reflection. This spring equinox the mighty power of air, of the east, of beginnings, of breathe, of our silence and our words is making itself known. Thank you, Guardians of the East! As I breathe, I notice the threefold power of the breath, the taking in, the pause, the letting go. Listening, pausing for reflection, speaking out, these three things, like our breath itself, are best done in balance. I wanted silence after Youth Speaks, I wanted time to reflect on what I heard. And, I dearly want to use my words as agents of peace.

May there be peace on earth. May there be deep listening, deep reflection, and words like arrows that open hearts and minds and inspire us to become more peaceful people. In balance, like our breath, we can truly live. Happy Equinox!

Kiss Me, I love Manannan Mac Lir!

I like the wearing of green. That's good, and I tend to do it every year on this day. Any rituals that the overculture does that remotely connect to anything celebrating the natural world I breathe into heartily. A number of my ancestors hail from the Emerald Isle, and I know they smile on the big party that celebrates all that is Irish. Saint Patrick, well, he is a damn problem.

How can a good pagan get behind the guy who is purported to have run the pagans out of Ireland? It can't be done. Yet, strangely, the holiday has hints of paganism attached to it. I can just feel it. The green, certainly, not to mention the drinking, and the kissing. And if the pagan magic was really run out of Ireland, why the ever pervasive leprechauns? If ol' Patrick really had such a problem with pagans, wouldn't he be having a fit to see those little people used to symbolize his day? Come to think of it, THEY should be having a fit about it. Don't we pagans have a better relationship with leprechauns and their ilk than Christians?

Thank goodness, Anne over at The Gods Are Bored has helped me come up with a solution to my Saint Patrick's Day dilemma. From here on out, I'm going to consider it Manannan Mac Lir Day. This, I can get behind with verve. Read Anne's interview with him, it is truly fabulous. All hail, Manannan Mac Lir! Seems to me, you would enjoy a pint of brew and a shot of Irish Whiskey tipped in your honor much more than that other guy.

to speak or not to speak....

The Spring Equinox is drawing near, that one day when light and dark, night and day hang in perfect balance. It’s been warm here in San Francisco, one of those glorious weeks of clear skies. The tulips on my deck burst open yesterday, and this afternoon I’m writing on said deck, with some bird twittering away in a nearby tree and the rumble of freeway off in the distance. All week I’ve been ruminating on listening and silence and been thinking about the witch’s pyramid; to know, to dare, to will, and to keep silent. This is said to be the building blocks of creating magic. But what does this mean?

The longer I’m a witch, the less I ascribe or am drawn to magic that involves a high level of secrecy, a feeling that what is being worked with is so powerful it would be dangerous in the wrong hands. I know the power of casting a circle and using the secret names I was given at initiation, but frankly, I’ve found that cleaning my house with intention is more often than not just as powerful, and certainly as effective in changing things between the worlds. Most magic I do now is fairly out in the open, with very little being veiled. Is keeping silent part of our legacy of being in mortal danger if practicing the Craft? How truly important in living a magical life is keeping silent? What does this mean thealogically as we begin as witches to live life in the open?

Perhaps because of equinox, and prompted by a blog by Anne on Elders, I’ve been thinking on the balance between listening and speaking, and on knowing when to keep and break silence. Being a psychotherapist, I listen for a living. This is something I do well, dropping down and entering my client’s stories, paying acute attention to the story that is being woven with their choice of words, hearing not only what is being said, but imagining and questioning what is being omitted. An integral part of the therapist’s craft is knowing when to speak and when to keep silent. When I speak up as a therapist, I speak as an agent of healing change, in the hope that my words assist my clients in what they came to heal or transform. To know, to will, to dare, and to keep silent are all things I employ as therapist. But I also employ the breaking of silence, saying and drawing out what has never been spoken.

In Wiccan community, which in my case means the Reclaiming community, I’ve been one of the first to speak up when something feels off to me. At this point, I’m famous or infamous for it, depending on your point of view. Starhawk wrote about my speaking up years ago in her book Truth or Dare, using me as a shining example of someone who overcame the “inner censor”. I spoke out to a large group that I had concerns about a piece of magic that we were being encouraged to do by the priestesses in charge. It turned out many were feeling similarly but were afraid to say, so the plan changed. My guess is that if Star now used me as an example, it would not be so shining. Being the first to speak is a role I’ve been playing too long and it’s become stale. I’ve been working on keeping my silence more often, being keenly aware that in communities, like in families, we can all get accustomed to playing roles that no longer serve us or the community's health.

Last week, after much reflection, I spoke out against something I felt was wrong. It was a personal matter, and I'm still feeling the repercussions. Being silent would have made things easier on the surface, but there would have been a festering that would have lasted this lifetime. I can't stand festering, but perhaps it's something I need to get better at enduring.

The sun is beginning to set, the city is awash in pinkish gold that soon will be dimming. When to speak, and when not to speak....for me, this is the question. I know I’ll be ruminating as spring turns to summer on the witch’s pyramid, on this idea that knowing, willing, daring, and keeping silent are the base and foundation of doing magic. Right now, I’m looking at silence. When does silence equal death, and when does it allow for something different and new to be born? This equinox brings with it the heightened awareness of how every truth is balanced by its opposite, how paradox is the heart of mystery. Listening and speaking. There’s a time and art to both. And I do it for a living. How weird is that?

international women's day

This morning I luckily read Sara's blog, Pagan Godspell, before I went to work. She writes about feminism, International Womens Day, and blogging against sexism. All day I thought about this, and about how I am devoted to no longer focusing on what I am against, but what I am for. How nice to see, when I went to the site on Blogging Against Sexism, that they had this point covered. I could be against sexism, or for women's liberation, wimmin's liberation, or gender liberation!!!!!

Today, being International Women's Day, I am taking a stand FOR women's liberation. I'm also for women being able to spell that anyway they want, taking men completely out, and I certainly am for gender liberation as well. But today, women's liberation takes precedence. I am for it. Completely.

I remember vividly the moment I picked up at sixteen the book "Sisterhood is Powerful". I remember the thrill as I read it. I remember my teacher's looks of horror as I would quote from it. I remember my friend Jean having an illegal abortion. I remember the day abortion became legal.

As a freshman in college, soon after a friend of mine was raped and murdered, I helped form a rape crisis team, one of many forming across the nation and world. I was lucky to be part of the second wave of feminism, and it has shaped who I am and the the life I have led. I came of age in the time of consciousness raising groups, of women telling the truth about their lifes for the first time. I remember being in a group and talking for the first time about being sexually abused as a child. I remember the many stories women told for the first time, thanks to feminism.

Today, as I spent each hour engaging with clients, I had this in the back of my mind. I came to psychotherapy thru feminism, believing at the time that feminism WAS therapy. I came to the Craft thru feminism, by grieving and searching for something other than a skygod and finding the moon, the tides, the beauty of the earth and Gaia herself. More than anything, I am a feminist.

Happy International Women's Day. We've been telling the truth about our lives now for several decades. But. We still make up, along with children, the bulk of the poor. Eating disorders are at an all time high, and girls feel enormous pressure to fit into one very tiny skinny mold.

Today, I blog for Women's Liberation. May we keep telling the truth about our lives, and may abortion stay safe and legal. So mote it be.

there's no place like home

The older I've gotten, the more I trust my intuition. Once again, I'm trying to trust it, but it's not exactly easy. My intuition has guided me once again to being on a witchcamp team, and not only that, it's a team I never expected to be on. Have I done the right thing? It remains to be seen.

Last year the team I taught with at Spiralheart had the great honor of being asked back. We were a great team, and I am proud of the work we did together. We treated each other with respect, had each other's backs, encouraged each other to stretch, and modeled the values that shine from Reclaiming's principles of unity, something that does not always happen in a witchcamp setting. It helped that the Spiralheart community was actually that.... a community. I loved the setting in West Virginia, loved the people, loved the magic that unfolded, and even loved the food. It was great experience.

After being asked back, despite the positive experience, I kept having the niggling feeling that I was not supposed to go back, that it wasn't right for me. Teaching witchcamp in other places has progressively made it more painful that I'm blacklisted from teaching at the camp in my own backyard. Strangely, I'm blacklisted at California Camp for the very reason I'm sought after to teach at other camps. I strive to teach according to Reclamining's Principles of Unity. I excel at getting teams to work as teams, and refuse to be either a diva with backups and won't be a backup to a diva. This has caused problems locally. The Bay Area is rife with divas. Last fall, I was feeling that pain acutely, and my intuition told me that I needed to keep my energy closer to home. And I was thinking that maybe I was finally done teaching witchcamp.

Then, just when I'd finally made peace with my decision and had settled in to a summer sans witchcamp, I was approached by a friend who had been set to teach at BC witchcamp and now couldn't. She and the organizers wanted me to take her place. At first I said no. And meant it. Then, something shifted. I kept thinking about the theme, The Wizard of Oz. Suddenly, it felt right. A story that focused on getting home. The story that I love so much, and have loved since childhood. I'm not sure if my intuition can be trusted on this, if it's really right that I teach away from home once again. But, like the yellow brick road, I'm following it.

From my deck, downtown San Francisco glows at sunset like the Emerald City. Who knows where my intuition will lead me? Maybe home.

a picture tells....

photos from home, from that rooftop garden I talk about, and of my altar to Elvis and some of my Spirit Bottles and Goddess Chalices I make. Gawd...it turns out I love taking pictures!!!!!!!

full moon magic

The candles are lit and the house vibrates with the thrum and hum of magic, that change of consciousness that opens up the lines of communication with the elements, with the sacred, with the divine. The tulips, daffodils, and blossoms of plum on the altar attest to the beauty of this green planet, beauty beyond comprehension.

Tonight I honored earth, air, fire, water and spirit and asked for their help. I called to the ancestors and those who will come in the future. I invited and invoked the mysterious ones, all those deities and guardians who are able and willing to be of assistance, who might also need or want my assistance, or at the very least my attention. I dropped down and felt the change that has already begun, the polar ice caps that are melting, the rising of the ocean, the changes in temperature, the changes in seasons.

How hard it is to really sit with this, to feel it and keep breathing. And I prayed and asked for assistance in people having the strength to change. Then.......something happened. I felt the power of human creativity, the diversity amongst us, the tenacity. The strength is there. We have to pay attention to what is already happening and adjust accordingly. And sooner than later. And I breathed into that.

The moon is full and shining, bathing this city in its silver light. I can feel the thrum and hum of all those I've communicated with tonight, and I can feel the creativity and strength of the people in this city, a city that rolled last night with a 4.5 earthquake. We are getting jolts all the time, reminders that things are changing, that we should pay attention, that we should change. We need to wake up. We need to dream. We need to wake up. And then we need to dream again. We can change. We do it all the time.

Today I finally learned to use a digital camera and put pictures on my blog, something I never felt myself capable of.

Anything can happen. And usually does.

lighting candles

When I was young I yearned to be Catholic or Jewish. Raised Episcopalian, I found nothing in my family's spiritual practices which seized my imagination. I longed for candle lighting, holy cards, eating proscribed foods, mezuzahs, hairs of saints, bitter herbs, and statues of Mary or Jesus around the house. What I wanted was more stuff. Stuff that symbolized something else, that was ascribed power and meaning. No wonder I eventually chose to become a witch!

A Pagan Sojourn turned me on to a great series of articles by Jeff Lilly at DruidJournal on choosing a religion. He makes the excellent point that this is the first time in history that so many of us have choice in regards to religion. In the past, if you were raised in the Catholic, Jewish, or Episcopalian faith, that is what you were. Not now. The majority of us witches come from other faiths, and our children by far know they have choice around whether or not to claim themselves pagan. Even within the Craft, we have a plethora of choices concerning traditions and practices. Nowadays it's not unusual for Jews to be Buddhists, and Lutherans to see God in the Goddess. Choice in religion now abounds, even within religions.

No matter what God/desses are worshipped, all religions I know of have some manner of asking the divine for assistance and of thanking them when it is provided . As Caroline Casey has pointed out – The Gods are here to help us, but spiritual etiquette demands we ask. Prayer is one form of asking, as is spellwork. Hecate recently turned me on to an interesting blog post on prayer by Heathen Robin Artisson, one that makes the point that indeed, prayer is part of the shamanic lifestyle, is something that witches do regularly.

I’ve been considering the difference between prayers and spells for some time, and noticing for myself, how similar the two are. Both are essentially communication with the divine. For me, spellwork just uses more stuff. The child I was longed to communicate with the divine, but understood that communication best in the bells and whistles of other faiths. Witchcraft is rich with bells, whistles, and incense and candles galore. It has remained true that I communicate with the divine best thru the manipulation of stuff. My home is an ongoing spell and prayer with the divine, a constant communication thru my stuff.

For inexperienced witches and grandiose ones, often doing spellwork is a kind of bossing the gods and guardians around, and assuming that somehow we know best. One thing most people who follow any religious path find out is that it actually turns out to be true that the Gods work in mysterious ways. Sometimes the small thing I want to have happen is exactly the wrong thing to happen if I had a wider eye view. So I’ve learned to make my spells and prayers more general, and see them as a kind of putting my shoulder to the wheel of a turn that the elements of life are already engaged in. And I say thank you a whole lot more.

I am going to pray and do spellwork on this full moon, along with Hecate and others. As it turns out, I won’t be working specifically to find the scientist who can remove carbon from the atmosphere. On reflection, I know that I don’t know for sure if that will be the thing needed. Science is full of inventions that solve one problem only to create ten more. The offering of the award money does point to a turn towards waking up and dealing with climate change. That, I can breathe into. I continue to reflect on the words projected on the screen during Melissa singing during the Oscars. Pray that people find the strength to change. Yes. This is what my spellwork and prayers will focus on. And you can bet that candles will be involved.