I awoke to the sound of bagpipes this morning. Right. It's the real Memorial Day, before it became a Monday holiday.

How does this woman of peace observe Memorial Day?  Not by waving flags or going to parades. This parade came to me, marching down the avenue past the Aerie's front garden.

Now that they have passed by, all is silent.

In my mind, a new Earth flag is waving gently on the breeze.  It has a white background behind the image of the Earth.

I give thought to all who have died in wars. On both sides of any conflict, and all the innocent civilian victims.  Such a waste of precious human life.  They are all victims of a world gone mad. War is never the answer.

Let peace take flight and settle gently across the world. So mote it be.

 It's been a week, to say the least. I'm here now and all is just wonderful. 

I'm also exhausted. Vacation can be tiring.

I was shocked that plumber has been here since Wednesday. I shudder to think of the bill. The Aerie never had it so good., All the faucets are now subtly gleaming levers in brushed nickel, easy on my poor old hands. So much better than the amorphous moderne blobs that were here before. However, there are gaping holes in the walls, covered in cardboard and duct tape, out of deference to Amber Cat.

I don't remember plumbers being so messy or slow. Jerry, Goddess rest his spirit, was the best plumber ever, and I miss his skilled hand. I have never understood, and therefore struggle to forgive his suicide. If you are listening tonight, old chap, I miss you. I wish you had lived to fix the Aerie. The new chap hasn't a clue.

I don't often talk about Reiki, but it is an essential part of my life, like breathing.

We need healthy touch in our lives, the kind of touch that is filled with love, compassion and healing. Reiki touch does not require us to hold every fiber of our being taut, because it is not our personal energy that flows; it is the universal life force and we are merely conduits for it. By placing our hands, we invite, acknowledge and witness the energy, but we do not create it or direct it. It simply is.

My dear Amber cat has no idea how it works, but she is fond of this special, quiet touch. Our days begin and end with this energy. She purrs deeper and leans into my hands in a way that is different from her response to ordinary stroking. She is totally relaxed and totally filled with trust.

Simba, the cat who lives in Treetops (above my Aerie) is slowly learning the joy of Reiki touch.  He's a restless cat by nature, and isn't accustomed to still hands that pulse with energy. He has taught me to take it slowly and be very gentle.

Yes, most of my Reiki practice involves animals. I don't see that changing even as I prepare for my Master/Teacher attunement (hopefully this coming November).  Hearing the 'Reiki purr' is one of the most gratifying things in my life.

Have your animal companions experienced Reiki? How was their experience?

You know how I always come home from Kripalu in a state of pure bliss. I am fortunate to live my life on the edge of bliss, and it only takes a gentle nudge to send it pouring through me. A few days of the simple, meditative life at Kripalu usually guarantee me at least a week of overflowing bliss.

I've been home two weeks now. I am still in that delicious, purring state of being, and I think drumming has something to do with the way I feel.

Rhythm engages the whole body. It's not just the hands moving on the drum. It's not just the ears hearing the beat. The whole body resonates. The breath synchronizes itself to the beat. The drum and the drummer become one.

I see wisteria.
I smell rain-soaked earth.
I hear a gentle breeze.
I touch a warm cat.
I taste chai.
I sense peace.

 I had thought today of posting some questions, but my mind went bounding off to answer the questions for myself, and suddenly, one of the questions took over my thoughts.

Solitary or group?

I am moving toward a solitary path, at least for a while.  I've never given myself this opportunity.  When I was young, I studied in a mixed-gender British Trad. group. It was a good foundation, though I never became the astrologer that my High Priestess hoped.

The family coven years were wonderful.  My  mother and I were fortunate in being able to work together. She taught me the ways of water and weather magic, and eased me from being a reluctant priestess to one who could create a ritual from the simplest of inspirations. I learned to listen to the Goddess who is present in all of us. I learned to listen to the Earth and Sea.

I wasn't ready to have a solitary practice after she crossed over. It felt painfully incomplete. I am grateful for the elders of the Temple of Ara, whose group rituals sustained me over the past two years. I am grateful for the chance to work in the dynamics of a large and ever changing circle. The warmth of the group sustained me, but did not challenge me enough. 

And now I have made the decision to spend at least a year in solitary practice. I need to get back to a pure Goddess practice. Back to the Earth and Sea. I am not inclined to seek another established circle. I need to explore my own inner landscape, and reclaim myself as a witch.

And now, I'll ask the same question of you:  Solitary or group?  What sustains you?

 Past and future should meet gently at the present, not collide in a shower of sparks over a field of dread. Why did I let myself be drawn back into a way of life I no longer value? Today is the Kidsave Miracle Makers Golf Classic, and I am trying to get myself into the volunteer spirit.

Unfortunately, this comes too soon upon the bliss of my Kripalu retreat. It is jarring and out of step.

I'm not having issues with doing something good for the children who need families. I'm having issues with diving back into the country club scene, the culture of materialism, and so many things I really have left behind me. I am not looking forward to spending the afternoon wearing chinos and a black golf shirt (volunteer's uniform). Just maybe, I am looking forward to setting up the silent auction. I am clearly ambivalent about the entire proceeding, but I gave my word and I will be there. 

Manicured. Grey family diamonds at the ready for tonight's dinner. I am not wearing black to that. I have a deep violet silk ensemble, the jacket hand dyed in shades of violet, aqua and green. At least I will vibrate on a serene frequency.

One last time. Next year I will say no.

I have to remember the power of each individual's contribution to the world.  I must support the things I value the most.

 Imagine a world where...

simple handmade things are valued over mass-produced consumables.

food is organic and locally-grown.

suburbs re-make themselves in to a series of villages, each with their own high/main street.

the arts are equally important as science, technology and commerce.

you know your neighbors' names.

you know your neighbors' children.

laundry is dried by the kiss of the sun and the caress of the wind.

it is more important to make a life than to make a living.

there are no stockholders. 

to own a business means to work it with your own hands.

where we live in harmony with our Mother the Earth.

I mention these things today, because so many of my values came from my own mother.

How do you imagine your world, and how was it shaped by your mother's values?

 I didn't see anyone filming this, but here's a clip from the drumming class at Kripalu, where Debbie, Layne and Holli treated us to an impromptu performance.

Thirty women in a circle (and two men willing to embrace their feminine aspects). Our drums were a metaphor for the way circles come together. Ragged and very individual at first. Some out of time, some hesitant. Over the weekend, we settled into each other's rhythms. We took our meals together, shared our stories between class sessions. Our music came into unison.

It was a good time for me to witness a circle forming, serving its purpose, and releasing us back to our daily lives. It puts perspective on the sudden release of another circle in my life. It reminds me that like the planets above, we are all steady on our own paths, and we form ever changing patterns. In Luna's eyes, we are all small bright stars.

We are beacons when we need to be. When the desire is strong, our lights shine in the dark night and thus we find each other.

 I am still wrapped in a warm blanket of bliss from the weekend at Kripalu. I've told you before how it is sacred ground, blessed by generations of the Mahican peoples, again by the Jesuits, and again by the followers of Swami Kripalu. The blessings just seep out of the ground and envelop you.

Layne Redmond is a gifted teacher, an incredible musician, and a Goddess woman. She began each class session with a grounding meditation followed by another which energized all the chakras. She reminded us that we were following along the path of ancient priestesses who played the sacred drum, and that we were reclaiming it as a woman's instrument. 

Before we even picked up drums, we began with a series of rhythm exercises, walking to a beat, tapping it out on pairs of chopsticks, and chanting it. We became the rhythm and the rhythm became us.

When we finally put drums in our hands, we played as if we had always known how.

To be continued.

Beltane Blessings to all!

I'm glad it's a wet morning. All the birdcalls are magnified, and the trees are dripping with a particularly luscious and juicy rain. Everything is green and filled with life.

Today, I'll be traveling into rural New England and by evening, I will be sitting in a different kind of circle, chanting and drumming. On one level, I am learning to play the drum, but deep within, I have always known how. Falling asleep in my tent at night, listening to the circle of drummers, seeing shadows of the dancers as they whirled around the fire. Waking in the morning to the hesitant sound of new drummers getting their hands around the rhythms of masmoudi and baladi.

Those sounds kept me alive in the wasteland years. 

It's not the doumbek that's calling me today. Just a simple riq, a frame drum with jingles, a tambourine. This is the drum of the ancient Goddess rites in Sumeria. I am excited to be studying under Layne Redmond, the author of When the Drummers were Women.

And I hope to tell you all about it in a few days!

I'm sure I would be able to cobble together some shelter for myself, and find water. I'm a bit vague on wilderness cooking, though.  I know that in theory you can make flour out of acorns, but you have to process it first. So, unless I found some fruit trees or something that  was obviously food, I'd be in serious trouble in a couple of days. I've lived much of my life in cities and towns. Not much chance to experience real wilderness.

If I ever put down real roots someplace, I would like to take a workshop about the local woodlands and what is edible there. That's as far as I would be willing to take it.  I really don't want to be out in the wild.

I just want to live a simpler life, with a garden and orchard of my own. I certainly could survive in a post-industrial society, which would be much less challenging because I would be in a community with others. I'd be spinning wool, weaving cloth and doing energy work while someone else made the flour. Humans are by nature a tribal animal. We need to work together.

So, you won't find me out in the wild. I just want to live on the edge of the village

 (cross posted from a response I gave to a question on seaivy 's journal. I wanted to to keep track of what I said. So, my apologies to everyone who has already read this.)

The question asked what one thought of the words 'witch' and 'magic'


I am a witch for all the reasons you are not, embracing this word to be the healer, the woman at the edge of the village, the one who calls the circle of sisters, the one who embraces the Moon and sings Her song.

I embrace the word for all those who died without having ever practiced, victims of a power hungry community. When I call myself a witch, I honor their memory.

Magic(k) is a word I can take or leave. It's a good enough umbrella term, but I tend to think of the collective as energy work, and more often speak of 'working' or 'the work' and I don't mind when others speak of prayers. It's all good. Interestingly, I am very careful in what company I use the term prayer, because some people just get bent that I pray to a Goddess and not to a God.

Wicca is a bit slippery for me. I attend a Wiccan Temple, and celebrate ritual within the Wiccan framework. I'm not technically 'second generation' because my mother and I both embraced the path at the same time in the mid-1970's, though my path faltered in the wasteland for so long that she became my spiritual mentor in her final years. So why don't I just call myself Wiccan? Sometimes it's just too much. Wicca may sustain me as a witch, and give me a community that I dearly love, but the profound moments that define my spirituality are often the quiet ones, time spent at my loom, or the Aerie garden.

I'm most concerned that the contemporary way of life is in dis-harmony with the Earth. All the individual problems, such as polluted waters, global warming, reliance on fossil fuel, are but symptoms that stem from the fundamental disregard for our place in the eco-community.  We are part of the Earth.  Not something separate. Not masters with God given rights to deplete and destroy Her.

Can I make a difference?  I believe it.

I support alternative energy sources.  The Aerie is completely powered by wind and water. I drive as little as possible, and when I do, I have one of the most energy-efficient cars. I am vegetarian, and try to buy local food as much as possible.

Each Earth Day, I try to take one more step toward living in better harmony with the Earth. This year, my focus will be on water. We must keep water clean and free. Our lives depend on it.  The bottled water 'industry' produces mountains of plastic trash, not all of which is recycled. It also creates a mindset that tap water is inferior and beyond hope of improvement. I already use filtered tap water at home. I'm going to start carrying water from home, and avoid buying bottled water at all. Water is our birthright.  Let's keep it pure and free.

I have gone on silent retreats, and find them very peaceful. I am also surprised how much silence stimulates my visual senses.  I see more in my surroundings when I don't have to concentrate on words.

At home, I take an occasional day of silence whenever I need one. I try to avoid reading or listening to spoken and sung words during these retreats. I focus on receiving the images and sounds of nature.  Like the birds chattering right now. I had to stop typing for a minute and listen.

I also have gone on meditation retreats, and three days was as long as I kept silence. I could have gone on for a few more days, but I was too happy in my silence and was concerned that it would be difficult to return if I stayed any longer.

LiveJournal was my winter project for 2004. I was in the midst of relocating to The Aerie, and the simple relief of having one snug home, rather than dividing my time between my pied-a-terre and Maplehurst, was just sinking in.
I was in the midst of a major career shift and was in the process of healing from a period of my life that I simply call 'the wasteland.'

My friends list has expanded and contracted several times in the intervening years.  writtenoutloud has been with me the longest.