branches up, roots down

I go religiously to the Alemany Farmer’s Market on Saturdays. I’ve been going for decades now. Farmer’s markets have sprung up all over the city, but I am faithful to Alemany. It now has it’s share of “foodies”, of which I have to be one of the first, but it remains wildly diverse, a relic of the San Francisco I refuse to let go of. I’ve been a Pagan since my early twenties. It was then, after my father’s suicide and the death a beloved cousin, that I moved to a small town on the Oregon coast. Recognizing the cycles of the moon and the turning of the tides became a lifeline as I moved through the shadowland of grief.   When I got sturdier, I moved to San Francisco.   It has been here that for most of my adult life I celebrated the turn of the wheel at public rituals. The days of public ritual are past, but the farmer’s market remains. Here, I celebrate the first asparagus and rejoice during the brief weeks that asparagus, fava beans, and cherries are all in season. ...

  “It's a highly unusual May.”   The nature guide repeats this phrase several times during our excursion near Ketchikan. Most of the clothes packed for this trip up Alaska's inner passage have gone unworn - no need for the wool sweaters, down vest, or fleece jacket. It's t-shirt and flip-flop weather. Bald eagles soar overhead, waterfalls tumble down granite cliffs into the glittering sea, otters and seals scamper wetly, and every shade of green seems represented. The beauty of this balmy day is indisputable.   Enjoy it while we can. It's a familiar feeling now, this mix of primal joy for the sunny clear day and abstract terror of what it signifies. I live in San Francisco, where the occasional fog keeps up a semblance of green in a state of aching drought.   But the sunny days in San Francisco are increasing. More of our days have become like this one, on the small boat steering along the coast of the Alaskan Tongas Rainforest with the sun shi...

Waiting We wait Patiently, not so patiently We wait Worried, praying, distracted Waiting Not for Spring Who bursts thru the door uninvited With her hyacinths, daffodils and blossoms We wait For You To drench the earth To fill the reservoirs and streams To greet the salmon Waiting off the coast To give the bears a reason to sleep Rain. Here you are, at last!! Please stay awhile, Okay?

We are in Mexico. We is myself, my sister, and my brother-in-law. He has never been out of the country. My sister and I have. Many times. We went to Canada and to Mexico with our parents as children and at 15, I traveled with my sister, 3 years younger, throughout Europe for six weeks on our own. And I do mean on our own. But that is a story for another time.  This story is about being here in Mexico and about gratitude. It turns out this week is the week of the Mexican Revolution. I was happy to fly out of San Francisco. I love my city but it  has has been a party that will not end for weeks. The city has been crowded with celebrations for the The Giants, Halloween, Day of the Dead, and the exhaustive re-election. The City and I are weary with gratitude for all the wins and the dead working with us. Victory is exhausting.  We arrive to Puerto Vallarta to find it also on a bender, flooded with folks from Guadalajara. Warmer shores are something all peo...

Last night I danced my patootie off under the big harvest moon, celebrating the hand fasting of two dear queer Pagan friends. In my hurry to dress and beautify for the event, I'd left my cell phone at home. Some mistakes are gifts. The gift of being without my phone left me able to be fully present. If I'd brought it, I'd have been checking it persistently, as this weekend was the deadline for Governor Brown to sign or veto the bill I've been working on for about two years. The hand fasting was juicy love magic. My rag tag Pagan community was dressed to the nines and tens, as only Pagans can dress. Sequins, feathers, and glitter abounded, and Pagans and other family and friends all glowed with happiness.  Love is something to celebrate. Commitment is something to honor. These two woman have been together for almost a decade, and it was perfect timing for this particular spell.  The setting was exquisite, high on a bluff at Fort Mason, overlooking our beautiful bay. W...

“The Universe is made of stories, not of atoms.” Muriel Rukeyser The Universe is made of stories and each story is made of words. And each word itself has a story.   To name a thing is powerful, in itself a story invocation.   And, as in most invocations, we rarely are in control of what comes in and what magic it will work and what story will unfold. Taking a new name as part of following a spiritual path is nothing new. I would guess it is a cross-cultural experience, an innately human part of trying to give voice and name the experience of expanding consciousness, being reborn, and/or committing to a particular path. The name I was given at birth, Deborah, I seized back after years of being Debbie. It was in itself a story changer, moving me into adulthood and away from childhood. Only one person remains in my life who calls me “Debbie”, the very person who named me Deborah; my mother. Can you sense the story behind that? There have been three ...

I went to Dandelion, the big Reclaiming gathering, being told there would be a pool.  I love pools. I imagined myself sunning and swimming and enjoying all the people I love (and I do love many many Reclaiming Witches!) and avoiding most meetings. An important intent of the gathering was to address changing the Principles of Unity, principles I was part of creating, to be more inclusive and gender fluid. I trusted that this would turn out okay, and it did. I like the changes, and honor the hard work that went into creating them.  I was reading David Richo's book,  The Five Things We Cannot Change , on the flight up to Portland.  This  proved to be incredibly helpful when I found out on arriving that there was no pool. One of the five givens is that things do not always go according to plan. The gift of that given is that this we can grow from dealing with the unexpected. I dealt with the bitter disappointment of no pool with maturity. I had good books, a...