branches up, roots down

Embracing paradox is a large part of any mystical love affair with the world. Pantheacon, the huge annual pagan conference in San Jose , is a garden of paradox set within the walls of a huge corporate hotel. Chatting with the cocktail waitress in the lobby’s bar, she tells me that the Doubletree takes “all the conferences that other hotels won’t take”. Laughing, she describes serving drinks to the participants of the last conference held here. Dressed in their big fur suits, with heads sitting on laps or on the table, Furries had congregated in the bar after and before workshops. I laugh with her, smug in my assurance that we Pagans are on the other side of the dividing line between truly weird and not. My girlfriend comments that we seem so much less outrageous this year. And then a huge group of Discordians parade around the lobby, many in their underwear. In so many ways, my spirituality seems so commonsensical. What could be more grounded than an earth-bas...

Sing, feast, dance, make music and love, all in My Presence, for Mine is the ecstasy of the spirit and Mine also is joy on earth. For My law is love is unto all beings. from The Charge of the Goddess I've always liked Valentine's Day. As a child, I associated the blooming of the red and pink in stores and on shelves with the coming of my birthday. For many years my birthday cake was a cake shaped like a heart that a local bakery only did during early February. I love Valentine's Day because I actually do connect it to the feeling of being loved. So, today, I relish the feeling of being loved and of loving. May all beings feel love and may all beings love. Is there any better law than love? The world today is my valentine. Happy Valentine's Day, and may it bring ecstasy of the spirit and joy on earth.

My pledge to Brigid is already showing signs of working on me. Decades back, when we were creating what has become the Reclaiming Tradition , we started making pledges in front of a big tub of water ( Brigid’s well) which held a cauldron of fire (Brigid’s flame ). This was done in a public ritual where one by one people would pledge with the community bearing witness. Over the years, I’ve made pledges that have shifted my life, and witnessed plenty that I knew would bring change. I haven’t been to a public ritual in several years, but this year I followed the call and found myself back in front of the well and the flame. My pledge this year was and is to embrace gratitude as an organizing principle and to treasure my son, my partner, and my beloved friends. My birthday was on Saturday and the whole day my pledge kept resonating. I am so blessed! My partner and I started the day with a trip to the farmer's market. If there ever was an urban pagan place of worship,...

Poetry has been the backbeat of the last few days, and I am still following strands to new poems on this mighty web of poetry that has been spun. That, along with the hints of spring that I see in the emerging buds on the fruit trees, has uplifted spirit and soul. And, there’s that other thing. The election is today. Many of my friends are for Obama. Macha is wearing a giant button for him wherever she goes. Others are for Hillary, excited that a woman is finally being taken seriously as a candidate, or impressed simply with her experience. The last couple of days I’ve felt the excitement growing, and I’ve told friends from both camps how I envy them. Because I do. I wish I could feel solidly behind someone. I know whoever wins the Democratic nomination I will vote for, and maybe even campaign for. I’ll put my shoulder to the task of putting Hillary or Obama in the White House. But I still envy my friends who are ardent in the support of one or another. I can’t get there, an...

Thank you. I am rich with poetry and dizzy with poetry and drunk with poetry. And I am so grateful for poetry and for this mighty web of poetic connection that we spun together. Thank you! Prayer for the Great Family Gratitude to Mother Earth, sailing through night and day— and to her soil: rich, rare and sweet in our minds so be it . Gratitude to Plants, the sun-facing, light-changing leaf and fine root-hairs; standing still through wind and rain; their dance is in the flowering spiral grain in our minds so be it . Gratitude to Air, bearing the soaring Swift and silent Owl at dawn. Breath of our song clear spirit breeze in our minds so be it . Gratitude to Wild Beings, our brothers, teaching secrets, freedoms, and ways; who share with us their milk; self-complete, brave and aware in our minds so be it . Gratitude to Water:...

Today is the day. It's bitter cold, and yet, spring waits. I've been mulling on what poem to post and yesterday I knew it had to be one by Walt Whitman. I opened Leaves of Grass to this poem. Perfect. Unseen Buds UNSEEN buds, infinite, hidden well, Under the snow and ice, under the darkness, in every square or cubic inch, Germinal, exquisite, in delicate lace, microscopic, unborn, Like babes in wombs, latent, folded, compact, sleeping; Billions of billions, and trillions of trillions of them waiting, (On earth and in the sea - the universe - the stars there in the heavens,) Urging slowly, surely forward, forming endless, And waiting ever more, forever more behind. Walt Whitman Follow the comments on this blog to more poetry or the many many comments and links on the original invite . Thank you to all who participate. Thank you to the poets. And thank you, miraculous earth who holds the unseen buds and births spring out of winter.