branches up, roots down

It rained almost nonstop for the entire span of Pantheacon. Pretty much every conversation contained expressions of gratitude, as most Pagans were cognizant of the serious threat of drought hanging over California . The rain fell as a blessing on the land and as a blessing on this year’s conference. This year was a significant one for me. It marked the anniversary of my diagnosis of Type II Diabetes. I’ve kept my blood sugar within normal levels for a full turn of the wheel by making big changes in my diet and by keeping moving. I am healthy, and that has been a major magical working. Shifting consciousness by going into trance and working between the worlds is a breeze for many of us Pagans. Shifting consciousness to brussel sprouts and a brisk walk, not M&M’s and a good novel, being what the body wants, is a heck of a lot harder. But, I’ve done it, and I kept it up at Pantheacon, where the easiest food to obtain is chocolate chip cookies and pizza and the ...

    I’m sitting in one of those hotels for people who are on business trips of over a week – you know, the ones with small kitchens, that are more like truncated apartments?   I’m here because the hotel that hosts the Pagan conference Pantheacon  sold out months ago.   Both hotels are in San Jose, located amidst several office parks. Most of the offices have emptied since we were here last year, with almost every one sporting a “for lease” sign.     Things are so desperate that the lonely Denny's is offering a big discount for customers with a Pantheacon badge.  It has the feel of a place that has just become a ghost town, with no hope of coming back to life for quite a spell.   But there is life at these hotels, both full of all manner of folks interested in places between worlds, comfortable with working with spirits and all that is not visible to the naked eye.   It’s always been a very kooky thing, this conference of Pagans in a corporate hotel, but this year,...

  Today is my birthday.     As far as I am concerned, February 9 th   is a great day to have a birthday. The plum trees are in bloom, plump red hearts are in the store windows, and the hills of California are green.   Last night it rained, and now the sun is shining on the damp earth. Yes, a great day to celebrate the miracle of this one specific life!!   Next weekend I go to Pantheacon , the annual Pagan conference in San Jose.   The last couple of years I’ve done a lot of reflecting on what it has meant to follow my particular spiritual path, and something about being at Pantheacon makes me acutely aware of the trials and tribulations of being a modern Pagan.   Recently I realized that I’m in my Saturn return of being a Witch, as is the particular tradition I’ve taken part in creating.   A Saturn return is an astrological event that happens 27 to 30 years after we were born.   This is the amount of years it takes      Saturn to move through its orbit and return to the exa...

Yesterday was a good day. I got drunk on poetry, all the plum trees on my street burst into bloom, as if on Brigid's cue, and the day ended with hearing my all-time favorite bad poem. Yes, my favorite bad poem. Years back, a friend had a birthday party where all the guests read a bad poem they had written or did some bad performance art. It was fantastic! There's something completely liberating about creating Bad Art. It's also not quite as easy as it sounds. Try it! There's lots of words that are crying out to be included. Reading poetry all day yesterday, I learned from a lover of Tennyson that we can now adopt abandoned and neglected ones as our own at Savethewords.org . Your poem need not be full of tortiloquy, it just needs to be bad. My favorite poem at that reading years back was one that my friend's partner, Bill Simpich read. It has stayed with me for over 15 years. This year, I went to their house for a small Brigid ritual which included poetry (m...

In honor of Brigid, Goddess of Poetry and Healing, this year my contribution is a poem written in 1860 by one of my favorite American mystics, Walt Whitman. Follow the links in the comments section of this post and the original invitation to the great web of poetry that is being spun today. States! by Walt Whitman STATES! Were you looking to be held together by the lawyers? By an agreement on a paper? Or by arms? Away! I arrive, bringing these, beyond all the forces of courts and arms, These! to hold you together as firmly as the earth itself is held together. The old breath of life, ever new, Here! I pass it by contact to you, America. O mother! have you done much for me? Behold, there shall from me be much done for you. There shall from me be a new friendship—It shall be called after my name, It shall circulate through The States, indifferent of place, It shall twist and intertwist them through and around each other— Compact shall they be, showing new signs, Affection shall...