branches up, roots down

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...

Oh, my. I’m still recovering from my visit to New Orleans with my girlfriend, my son and his best friend. I went to priestess my sister’s wedding. It was one of those long weekends which seem to stretch for weeks. We left late on a Thursday, coming back on Monday. How could so much have happened? My girlfriend was able to blog about it right away, but I’m still processing it. There’s so much to say, and no words seem really right to express it. I loved New Orleans the first time I laid eyes upon her. It was on that trip that I understood how the elements are embodied in our great cities. The four directions and their elemental correspondences play out in our nation’s landscape and our cities serve as great Guardians of the Directions. New York in the east has the power of intellect, with Air holding reign there. Chicago , that mighty meatpacking city in the north, holds the power of Earth. On the west coast, Water rules the city of dreamers that is San Francisco . And in ...

I’m coming down from a mighty cone o’ power. All around the city you can feel the effects of the magical hangover which is the Monday after Gay Pride Weekend. I’m sure that for many, the magical hangover is more complicated. Dionysus loves this crowd, and the Queer Gods grace this party with their perpetual indulgences. It’s a great rite, with a constant gathering crowd, starting with a Tranny March on Friday, the Dyke March on Saturday (which ends up in the Castro where the Sisters of, yes, Perpetual Indulgence preside over a huge street party), and then the humongous Pride March on Sunday. All the while, a huge pink triangle graces the city from the heights of Twin Peaks . My girlfriend is one of the eight women who put on the Dyke March , which is feat of magic in itself. The Dyke March is actually an afternoon concert, a political action, a huge picnic party, and a march, all rolled into one. Oh, and it’s also transformative ritual. Somehow they do this all without any c...