branches up, roots down

My son spent his summer rising at 5am to get to football practice by 6am. When September came, he went to practice every weekday afternoon until 6pm and sometimes on Saturday mornings as well. Thanksgiving has always been a favorite holiday for him. He usually goes with his father to Oregon and hangs out with beloved cousins. This Thanksgiving, he stayed home. Alone. His team had made the championship for the first time in forty years, and even on Thanksgiving morning, they were on the field, practicing. I watched all this with parental wonder. I don’t get sports, period. I spent most of my P.E. hours in high school feigning cramps, and I associate football especially with a whole bunch of things I am against. Like running into people and hurting them. I went to his games when he was a freshman and sophomore, patiently waiting for this reactionary phase of being raised by a Pagan - activist - therapist - artist - mom to be over. I imagined that by junior year he might find t...

The arc of the moral universe is long, But it bends toward justice. -Abolitionist Theodore Parker, c. 1850's I slept away the holiday visit to my spouse's family in Philadelphia . I managed to stay awake for Thanksgiving and the day afterward, but then I surrendered to the fierce cold I'd been battling and took to my bed. My hotel room bed, that is. It would have been surreal in the best of health, this visit to new "in-laws" who clearly aren't anywhere close to accepting this as true. Homophobia is as potent in its silences as it in its taunts. Spending two of the four days sleeping tipped it over into pure dream time. There was genius in the timing of the cold, as it excused me from half of the family get-togethers. I arose from my fever dreams just in time to participate in packing up and going home. My dreams in Philadelphia were full of phantoms of two United States of America . One is a place of doublespeak and lies, a nightmare in a ho...

Last night, as my spouse and I were driving across the city to go to my son's football game, we passed city hall. It was bathed in blue light. We'd never seen this before, and both wondered what it meant. To me, it looked like our city hall was lit with the blue fire I learned way back when to cast circles with, the blue fire of magic. It felt strange, it felt out of the ordinary, it felt a little weird. Magic can be like that. Today I will be getting on my bike and riding over to city hall to take part in standing up for my unalienable rights with queers and our allies across the country. I know now why the city hall was bathed in blue light. It is the blue light of transformation. It is the blue light of magic. And it is spreading.

"When you choose to serve -- whether it's your nation, your community or simply your neighborhood -- you are connected to that fundamental American ideal that we want life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness not just for ourselves, but for all Americans. That's why it's called the American dream." These are Barack Obama's words. Look and feel what they spell out. What spell they cast. Check out the website for the transition - change.gov Patriotism was just reclaimed. My teenage son said last night how weird he feels, as it is the first time in his life he is feeling proud to be an American. It both feels like we are in a dream, and that we've waken up. The American Dream just expanded into something completely different than the selfishness of the past decades. It no longer is a nightmare. We, the People. All of Us. Obama, you can count on me to be serving. I am for this dream.

Yesterday morning, as my spouse (and using that word is a spell) was sobbing, she kept repeating "why do they hate us so much?". I told her...amidst my own tears.... that it wasn't so much hate as fear. Fear of difference, fear of change, fear of sexuality, and fear of all of us being fully in our power. Love is the antidote and it will prevail. Harvey Milk was right when he said we must "come out, come out, wherever you are". I've been a therapist for many years and have worked with countless folks in the coming out process.The coming out process is essentially iron pentacle work . It involves reclaiming sex, pride, self, power and passion. The process of becoming self actualized means all of us, straight or gay, come out in one way or another. All of us go through a process of claiming our authentic selves, a process that never truly ends. Those of us who are queer, well, we have a bit of a rougher road to hoe in coming out. For many, coming out means...

but, I'm not the only one. This morning I woke to my new spouse (we married on Sunday) crying beside me. She'd woken up, checked the news, and discovered that proposition 8 here in California had passed....which bans gay marriage. Last week, this city was full not only of the Samhain dead, but full of gay weddings. It has been legal here for the last couple of months. Today that has changed. Last night we cried in joy and intense gratitude. The streets of San Francisco were full of happy crying people. The election was not stolen, and America woke up. I am still exhilarated, still full of gratitude. And, full of resolve. I know that in my lifetime there will be full civil rights for gay and lesbians in this country. I can fully imagine it. I cried too, this morning. But in my tears there was joy. The tide has turned. Barack Obama included gays in his speech last night. Anything can happen if we imagine it. Today....I am thanking all the dreamers who have ever dared to imagine. ...

Today is officially Samhain, but who can tell the difference! The veil has been sliver thin all week. Heck, for way more than a week! Last week the Chronicle photographer came over to photograph my house for the usual little article on real Witches and Halloween. I knew the dead were really here when my sister from Santa Cruz "just happpened" (like there's such a thing as coincidence!) to drop by. She ended up holding the martini glass that goes on the altar for my father. We laughed heartily, agreeing he really wanted to get his picture in the paper this year. And, usually the martini goes on Samhain night. This year, he wanted that drink ahead of time. Who can blame him! The little article turned out to be a BIG article , with plenty of my dead being clearly featured. The martini got plenty of play as well. Good magic, as my plea this year was that they put their shoulder to the wheel of positive change. My father was a Republican who wrote JFK and apologized for vo...

let us hope. let us pray. let us remember that things can change. for the better. they can. right?

Eight lesbian bloggers have come together in a coordinated effort to help place the discriminatory ballot initiative called Proposition 8 in its rightful place in the dust heap of history. Just another reason to love the blogosphere. They are almost half way there. Thank you, Grace Chu and Grace Rosen - Grace The Spot Lori Hahn - Hahn At Home Kelly Leszczynski - The Lesbian Lifestyle Dorothy Snarker - Dorothy Surrenders Pam Spaulding - Pam’s House Blend Sinclair - Sugarbutch Chronicles Riese - This Girl Called Automatic Win Renee Gannon - Lesbiatopia Thank you. It's a damn fine wedding present.

I sometimes really do feel like I am living in dreamtime. Yesterday was one of those days. I had an appointment at city hall at 12 to get a marriage license. That in itself feels dreamlike….especially since that civil right may be voted away on the 5 th of November. As I slid into the parking spot that miraculously opened up right in front, a commercial against Proposition 8 was playing on the radio. The words were ringing in my head as I entered the hall full of gay and lesbian couples, looking for my partner. Here we all were, in this strange place between the worlds, going through motions that in a few weeks time may be denied other couples. Or not. We found each other and took our place in a long line of stories. Everyone had one, and most were telling them. The man next to me told me about his cancer, and how he thought he’d never live to marry his partner. The cancer is in remission, and the wedding will take place in the Victory Garden in front of city hall. We tol...

Today is day two of sugar skull decorating at my open studio...an open studio I share with my friends Ivory Fly, Gwydion, and Bart. Strangers drop in to see what kind of art is being created in the neighborhood, and so do old and new friends. It feels a bit like opening day for the dead...their first event of the season. Amidst the art, there always is an altar to them, and of course, the sugar skull decorating. Soon I will be sitting at a table decorating sugar skulls again. I have more names of the dead to put on them. As I do it, the dead draw closer. My favorite moment yesterday is when Kore, Maia and Julian, three children I am fond of, were decorating the skulls. I think the dead ESPECIALLY like skulls made by kids.

I can't seem to write much this time of year. Maybe it's the overwhelming cacophony of words, opinions and predictions that are filling the air. Who needs even more? Maybe it's been a time to focus in a different way. I've been making art and getting lettuce seeds sprouting. Maybe it's been a time to focus too on my son and hearth and home. There's been long talks and a new ease between us. In any case, I'll let pictures be the bulk of my words. My friend Jeremy was beginning to actively die at this time last year. This was the moment we all began to face that he was crossing over. I was painfully aware last October that this year I would be writing his name in frosting on a sugar skull. This week I am finishing up on the spirit bottle I have been making him. It has on it a slew of beads, baubles, shells and stones that his family and friends dedicated to him. On it too are the buttons his mother wore constantly up until his death. What is remembered live...

Go see this if it is your town. If it isn't...ask for it to be there. It starts with a banner hang which we Witches were instrumental in creating. We helped put it together, we trained the climbers in working with the elements, I drove them to the action, and many of us were below grounding this action and working magic. Amazingly, the weather held until the climbers began to come down, and then a gentle rain started. The next few days history was made. My friend Patrick says "it's not the story of the battle, it's the battle for the story". This film tells some of our story. I'll be celebrating that tonight in San Francisco.

I haven't blogged in awhile. Sometimes it is good to take a break. Last time I wrote I asked for help concerning keeping my son safe. Help seemed to come. One night I looked in his room at him asleep (a favorite pastime of parents) with his cat, Mr. Tickles. For a split second I thought he was curled up with a tiger, both sleeping peacefully, the tiger clearly an ally. All around us there are shootings and murder, much more than usual. Our neighborhood is erupting with gang violence. But our home feels safe, and my son seems at ease. We've had good talks about violence, about choice, about taking stands, and about walking away from fruitless danger. Meanwhile, I've read long reports from old friends who were putting themselves in harms way trying to block delegates from entering the Republican National Convention. The reports back have me thinking on when and why I am willing to put myself at high risk of violence. The reports back have me thinking a lot on the cur...

“There's a lot of ugly things in this world, son. I wish I could keep 'em all away from you. That's never possible" Atticus Finch It lives close by. For the few, it’s kept at bay for a lifetime. For most of us, there is at least one close encounter and many near misses. For all of us, from birth to death, it lurks within our peripheral vision, with its ubiquitous threat. Violence. I grew up in household where it seemed to explode out of nowhere, rocking the house and shaking me to the core. This was during the decade where it also came through the television in relentless waves. At seven I witnessed my President’s killer shot dead in real time in black and white. My generation grew up with that hopeless little screen pulsing it to us directly, uncensored and unfiltered. As an adult, my body has felt its impact only when I’ve faced it down. Taking action against it often has meant putting myself in its way and wake. I’ve been shoved, hit, choked, and gassed as a result ...

The slogan for this year’s Olympics is “One World, One Dream”. A perfect slogan, a perfect spell for us to invoke. The Olympics seize our imagination in that they are a direct tie to the old gods. The Olympics are also a coming together of humans in our divine bodies...taking those bodies - from all the countries of the globe - to their limits, and celebrating what we humans are capable of. Hercules is said to have been the founder of the games, and one of the stated purposes of the games is to promote global unity and “sound minds in sound bodies”. They have historically also held a foreshadowing of things to come and/or mirror what is happening on our planet. Think of the 1968 games or the games that were held in Germany before the holocaust. Think of Munich . The Olympics serve to bring the world’s attention together and into focus. There’s a kind of magic in the choice of the city that will be the focus of that attention at what time. At the Olympics, the whole world...

I love it when magic works!!! And it always does. I especially love it when the fates/elements dance along with me in the way I requested on the multi-versal dance card…only just a tad more delightfully. Yes. That happened last weekend. From Friday night to Sunday afternoon I was with a group of my friends in Sonoma planning the restorative retreat – A Fool’s Journey – that we are creating for right after fall equinox. My wish was that the planning session contain within it what we intend the restorative to be; both deeply satisfying and restorative. Check!!!! Mission Accomplished! Somehow we managed to question and theologically pull apart everything we usually do in ritual and at witchcamps, put it back together in ways that suited all of us, open to inspiration and watch it come, take that inspiration and plan several rituals , structure the retreat and when things would be offered, swim, read, go on walks, cook, and feast. And somehow, doing all of this was profound...

The fruit hang heavy on the old plum tree in the back yard. Tomorrow morning I will pick a bucketful to share. I’ll be spending the weekend in Sonoma with friends, planning the restorative we are offering at fall equinox – A Fool’s Journey. Tomorrow is Lammas, a cross-quarter marker in the turning of the seasons that Witches and Pagans hold sacred. A year ago I was grieving an old friend’s death and feeling the harbingers of the increasing dark. This year Lammas finds me harvesting fruit, celebrating good work done, and tending the planting for a further harvest. Just this week, a project/revolution I envisioned well over a year ago was finally fully manifested. The Reclaiming web page now has in it’s resource section a huge list of blogs and webpages. Furthermore, there is even a widget we can add to our blogs that streams in new entries. Taking this juicy success, along with my plums, to the retreat this weekend is satisfying beyond words. I am hopeful I can susta...

As Bowie sung, "Let's Dance." Yes, across this green globe, let's dance. Thank you, Matt Harding and friends. You know that heaven is under your feet and it is here and here and here.

This past weekend I embarked on what hopefully will be the beginning of an annual tradition. I went on a staycation; staying close to home but experiencing it from a different angle. Traveling a few short miles across the Golden Gate, I took the first turnoff, and checked in at the newly restored Fort Baker , now called “Cavallo Point” . What better way to spend the fourth of July than at the transformed army base in my backyard? For three blissful days I inhabited a world where soldier housing and marching grounds have morphed into a restorative retreat center, complete with a healing center, spa, and basking pool. What was once a new military base in 1905 is now a new luxurious eco hotel in 2008. I spent the weekend living and envisioning a world in which military bases become obsolete and are converted into retreat and educational centers. I went on my staycation with my girlfriend and two other queer San Francisco couples. This, too, was part of the magic. Three yea...

It’s been an action packed solstice season. After spending that evening contentedly feasting and conversing with some of my magical family, I crossed the Bay Bridge to go back home. Right after Treasure Island , the traffic slowed down and soon after my car became engulfed in noxious fumes. Several motorists started yelling “Lady, your car is on fire!” The moon was bright and full above the bridge, and the night was unusually warm. Everything was beautiful, except of course that my car was smoking to high heavens in the middle of a traffic jam. We all survived, the car included, but it was hard on both the nerves and the bank account. What I remember most vividly that night, besides the smell of my burning car, is just how exquisitely breathtaking the moon was above the city and how the bay was sparkling with light. I was going to write so much more, but I think I’ll stop with what happened that night, because, really, what more needs to be said? Pretty much everything that ha...

SUMMER SOLSTICE, BATTICALOA , SRI LANKA The war had turned inward until it resembled suicide. The only soothing thing was water. I passed the sentries, followed the surf out of sight. I would sink into the elements, become simple. Surf sounds like erasure, over and over. I lay down and let go, the way you trust an animal. When I opened my eyes, all down the strand small crabs, the bright yellow of a crayon, had come out onto the sand. Their numbers, scattered, resembled the galactic spill and volume of the stars. I, who had lain down alone, emptied, waked at the center of ten thousand prayers. Who would refuse such attention. I let it sweeten me back into the universe. I was alive, in the midst of great loving, which is all I've ever wanted. The soldiers of both sides probably wanted just this. - Marilyn Krysl

One great thing about great loves is that just when you think you couldn’t be more in love, you find yourself turning it up another notch. Today, my love affair with this city called San Francisco went up to eleven . Standing in the morning light in the rotunda of City Hall, with the bust of Harvey Milk beaming at me, I, for the second time this lifetime, performed a wedding ceremony for my friends Morgaine and Lann. It was nineteen years ago today that I handfasted them on the beach at Point Reyes in Northern California. Afterwards, the wedding party went back to their Lagunitas home to feast and celebrate into the night. I still can remember the mountain of summer strawberries. Today, there was no feast or party afterward, except for the cupcakes that were given to each couple when they received a marriage license and the cheer that went up when they flashed it to the crowd that was waiting outside of City Hall. My friends were legalizing something that had come to fr...

" Every great cause begins as a movement, becomes a business, and eventually degenerates into a racket. " Philosopher Eric Hoffer An aspect of embracing a magical life that I love is that when I'm musing on something, the world tends to jump in to engage in conversation with me. I open books to just the right passage, or overhear conversations that illuminate my thinking. Yesterday I opened the latest copy of The Week to the quote above. Perfect! Like anything, it doesn't hold the whole truth, but doesn't it speak to something we've all seen? It certainly speaks to what's been going on in my head about three communities I inhabit which are movement/cause based. This month is Pride month in San Francisco. My girlfriend is an organizer for the Dyke March. What makes the Dyke March both a difficult and a worthy thing to put on is that it's put on completely free of corporate sponsorship . And, they've had offers. Big Ones. T...

There should be a name for that moment right before you get news that could change your life. Don’t we all know that moment, know that feeling? The phone rings in the middle of the night, and before we pick it up, we have it. We hold the envelope in our hands and it comes on strong. It is fear, but also something else, particular unto itself. Many times that moment is actually hours, if not days. We wait for the results of the biopsy, for the results on the big test we took, we wait to hear if loved ones survived when disasters hit. We wait for friends to come out of a coma, we wait to see if a surgery is successful, we wait to hear something and we hope that it is good, that it won’t involve loss or suffering. That moment, whether an actual minute or a stretch into days, is the place where no matter the faith, no matter the religion, we all tend to enter the same psychic space. Whether anxious, shut down, self-medicating, or stoic, most of us are emitting a mighty PLEASE...

My new life style involves lots of walking. Walking involves lots of seeing. Yesterday in Noe Valley I ended up walking closely behind two men. I followed them around a corner I didn’t need to turn on, and continued on for a block or so purely because I was intrigued by their conversation. Actually, that’s not true. I was intrigued by their energy. The two men were a large white guy in saffron robes and a much smaller Asian guy in jeans and a tee shirt. Both were American. The visuals were striking, and kind of funny. But, again, more striking and to me, amusing, was the energy. The smaller guy was looking up to the other, and not just physically. He was asking questions. The big guy was giving ANSWERS. He used the word attachment several times, explaining how unproductive it is in a spiritual life. And, he was clearly attached to giving answers and being looked up to. Everything about him radiated narcissism, and not the healthy kind. I’m so glad I observed this. I’ve...

“Any intelligent woman who reads the marriage contract, and then goes into it, deserves all the consequences.” Isadora Duncan A lot can happen in one lifetime! I just got off the phone with my girlfriend and I am stunned. The California Supreme Court has just overturned a gay marriage ban in a ruling that will make our nation's largest state the second one to allow gay and lesbian weddings . We live in this state. So, she proposed to me. Again. In my early twenties, when I was riding high on the second wave of feminism, I had to be bought off to attend my sister’s wedding. I was against marriage and loved to quote Isadora Duncan on the subject. In fact, I quoted her immediately to my sister when she called to ask me to be her bridesmaid. My father followed this call up with one of his own, and in this call, he exasperatedly said that given that he wouldn’t have to pay for a wedding for me, he’d buy me a car if I would be a bridesmaid. Ano...

It was almost exactly a week ago that I landed back in my beloved city. This afternoon I finally feel fully at home. There’s a barley risotto simmering on the stove and the smell of rosemary, sage, and fresh spring garlic is wafting through the house. Barley is very low on the glycemic index, something that is important if you have diabetes. Using herbs from my garden, it is on its way to becoming just as tasty as the arborio rice risottos I cooked in the past. If you are managing diabetes with diet and exercise, rice, for the most part, is out. This Beltane is a time of change, the barley being one of many. I spent a lot of time today on my rooftop garden, weeding, watering, and cutting the herbs that would go into tonight’s meal. Amidst the plants and with the lovely gnome Chomsky presiding, I mused on all the Beltane energies at play. At Samhain and again at Beltane, the veil is thin between the worlds. At Samhain, the veil is thin between the living and the dead, b...