The Seedling

It's February. I've already done all my searching through the seed catalogs. I know what plants are going in the ground. I've made my garden plans. Everything is now in that horrid holding pattern that is Winter. It's too early to start my seedlings inside, because they'll quickly become too leggy and won't last until it's warm enough to put them out. I have to wait until mid-March in my area (!!) and it's really tough. I want to get my hands dirty NOW, and feel the living soil on my hands. I want to smell that scent that tells me spring is right around the corner. But that is not what February is about.

This is a time of hibernation. It's a time for quiet introspection. It's a time for getting a bit extra sleep, when possible, and doing quieter activities. I find myself wanting to pull out my cross stitch, but I also find I'm never getting around to it.

I admit, as February begins, I am feeling like I am the tippy top of a roller coaster. The rest of the year stretches out in a long, steep decline and I want to be over the hump already! I want my plants in the dirt. I want my raised beds built. I want the yard cleaned up and the kids' swingset built. I want my herbs flourishing in the herb bed so that I don't have to use the dried stuff anymore. I want to ditch the long johns and sweaters, the mess of hauling wood into the house and ash out of it, and store bought vegetables. I long for the taste of a REAL tomato!

It does feel like this year is going to be both a fast one and a fun one. There is a lot of work to do, and I hope that I have the ability to get myself up and moving to get it done. I want to throw the windows open here, and I am hoping for a warmish day so I can do just that. The air in a house gets stale over the winter, and nothing beats the way a house smells after opening the windows the first time in the spring. It's as if seedlings spring up inside your heart and soul.

I did allow myself a tiny consolation for hurrying spring along. In my kitchen window, atop the lower window of a split frame, there are four jars with eight trios of seeds in them. These are my test seeds, to see if germination will occur. So far, my cucumbers, peas, lettuce, and a few others have sent out shoots and roots, questing for the dirt which they (unfortunately) won't find. I'm still waiting on the beans, delicata squash, and green peppers, but my hopes are high. If they all germinate, I'll be thrilled! Still, there's something joyous about peeking up at the jars and seeing my pretty peas looking rather like the picture to the right.

I need to let my soul have the quiet time it needs, to regenerate and to regain energy. When I rest my spiritual side, allow it to dream a bit and stop working so hard, I give myself energy for the long summer ahead. Everyone needs down time, after all, and nature provides a natural time for it each year. We need to respect that demand from our bodies, souls, and minds. The rest is like the dark, enveloping soil that holds the seed prior to it becoming a seedling. We need to let winter grip us in a firm grasp, keep us safe and warm and cuddled tight, until it's warm enough for us to spring out of our blankets and sweaters into the sunny, bright spring air.

Crises in the making

So are we in a "great depression" now or not? I really don't know. I'm not a finance person, and I'm terrible with numbers. However, I hear stories every day now about how people have had to change eating habits, switching out meat for beans and legumes... how houses are being lost along with jobs that should have provided security for workers for years to come... how vital medications cost so much that people simply can't afford them. I think the answer is that we're certainly in A depression, but whether it's as great as the one in the 1930s I don't know.

I think the question I need to ask is, does it really matter? There are hundreds of thousands of people out of work. Food banks are over-stressed with new applicants. The wait to get into the unemployment office goes around the block and takes over two hours to move into the building. There's a lot that we could focus on that is negative, that will sap our strength and our faith. Focusing on the negatives doesn't do anything for us, and in fact might be part of the problem we're currently experiencing as a nation (and as a world!).

What is positive about this? Well, families are getting back together. You might not think about the joys of living with your parents when you're 40 years old but those joys are there. People are helping others more, mindful that the next person might be worse off than they are. Secret Santas paid off lay-away accounts at WalMart for those who would have had no gifts for their children. Backyard gardens (and now front yard gardens!) are sprouting up all over, because seeds are cheaper than tomatoes.

The world is in turmoil. We in North America are better off (even our poorest of poor) than people in many other nations. There's a vast difference between poor here in America, where the poorest are able to ask for monetary help and often get it, and the poor in less developed countries, like Africa. Our poor are very rarely so thin that their bones show and their bellies bloat.

It may simply be time to tie the apron strings a little tighter, make the penny scream a bit louder. I know that's how it is in our home. We can't afford to buy filet mignon like we used to, even for special occasions. We can't afford to pick up a new movie every Friday to watch with the kids. Often we can't afford to buy fresh fruits and vegetables, and have to make do with frozen or even none at all. Yet we always make sure that we have enough food in the house. The bills are paid, just barely at times but still paid. It's tight, but we are able to work hard to make it fit a little less snugly.

I think the main thing we need to work on, on ourselves, is to let down our pride. We have to be able to stand up and do as this fellow from the 1930s is doing: advertise ourselves. We must be willing to do any work we can get our hands on, and not just look for high paying employment, even if that's what we would prefer to have. The work issue is a tough one, when we're bombarded with images of welfare recipients living better than we are (yes, that is a stereotype and yes I know it is not true of all, or even most welfare recipients... but it is the loudest group unfortunately).

I have read posts lately about people who raise their own food and store it, helping out others who haven't been able to purchase vegetables for their kids. One blogger talked about how she would "find" $20 bills behind people in order to help them out, knowing they would not take money from her while standing at the cash register. Another discussed the embarrassed folks cruising the beans aisle at the grocery store, trying to figure out how to feed a family on food stamps and cold air.

We might have to work harder. I bake bread now, a skill I was hesitant to learn and which I now am embracing whole-heartedly. It's sure not easier than picking up a loaf of nice crusty bread at the local store, and it eats up a whole afternoon once a week, but the results are healthy and filling, and I'm not afraid to send my kids to school with a sandwich made of it. Bought in bulk, the price of home baked bread is a clear savings.

We're planning out the garden, too, and how we'll feed ourselves this summer and beyond. How many seeds do we need, and can we trade something for them rather than paying? Yes, it means we'll have to be out there planting and weeding and harvesting, and then preserving. It's more work, hard work. It's work that pays off, though. Next winter we won't have to buy canned tomatoes, because we'll have our own again. Do you know how many cans of tomatoes and how many bags of frozen beans you need for a whole year? That's what you ought to consider growing this summer!

How are you going to cook your food? The kind of cooking we might be used to (fancy sauces, expensive ingredients) have to be put away in favor of the recipes our grandmothers and mothers knew. There are plenty of websites that have Depression-era recipes for us to learn from, and a good used book store (or Kindle/Nook free books!) will provide cookbooks with plenty of inexpensive alternatives. Learn how to buy bulk macaroni and make  your own baked mac'n'cheese. Learn how to cut down on meat, and how to prepare inexpensive cuts.

Perhaps this new Depression will be a turning point for our country. Perhaps it will cure our ever-expanding waist lines and halt our obesity epidemic. Perhaps it will stop our wasting and spoiling. I think it will have to, if we're to survive.

You might be asking yourself why I'm writing about this on my spiritual blog. I believe that we are undergoing a spiritual ailment, as a world. It isn't so much that our spirits are causing the financial problems, but that in walking away from faith based (any faith!) lives, we give in to the false idols of money, commercialism, over-indulgence. It doesn't matter to me which god or gods you worship, which church or synagogue  you attend, or how many times you bow down each day. What does matter is that you BELIEVE, and that you hold onto that belief and that faith as the cure for the depression (financial, emotional, spiritual) that we're going through.

Will faith make your job pay more? Nope. Will belief cause your fridge to suddenly be full of good food? Not at all. But faith and belief, in something or someone, will give you the strength to carry on until you find the better paying job or complete school, will allow you to hold your head high as you ask for your bag at the food pantry. Remember that the person next to you might be a computer programmer out of work, or a single mom desperately trying to finish her high school degree so she can do better for her kid.

More and more people at the welfare offices are wearing suits and ties, as the financial problems trickle upward. When you meet them in the food stamp line or at the local shelter, don't disparage them. Understand that they, too, are displaced and looking for help, and perhaps their pride is getting in the way of their journey, too. Be kind... because to be kind is to help both them and yourself.

Moving Meditation

I decided to make bread today. I was making venison stew for dinner, and nothing tastes better with stew than fresh baked bread, still warm from the oven. Baking bread is still a new skill for me, something that requires a lot of attention to detail on my part. I still follow the recipes exactly, without any variation in routine, because otherwise I risk hockey pucks rather than loaves of bread. The recipe I use is out of a neat book called Bread Alone. It's one the hubby learned from and it has a good variety of recipes for delicious bread. What it also has is something it calls a "teaching loaf." You can manipulate it a bit, try different things with it, but the basic recipe, if followed, will result in a good (if not spectacular) loaf of bread.

The end result, as you can see, was quite good. I did one batch, which yields two loaves. Just to be contrary, I braided one loaf, and did the other as a "torpedo" loaf, the standard artisan bread loaf. I'm actually quite happy with both of them, although the crumb in the braided loaf was a bit under-done. Neither would have been hurt by five more minutes in the oven, but I'm glad they came out when they did. The hardest part, of course, is leaving the bread to cool for 20 full minutes before cutting into it. I had to keep reminding myself that the final 20 minutes of "cooling" is actually a cooking time. Cut into too early, even a perfect loaf of bread will seem a bit doughy; the cooking process continues for 15 to 20 minutes after the bread is out of the oven.

We had our bread with venison stew, and it was quite delicious. Hot bread, fresh butter, home-made venison stew with meat we'd butchered ourselves... you can't get much better than that!

The process of making the bread was what I wanted to touch on, though. I am fond of moving meditations, and find that using movement when meditating actually helps me to concentrate and follow my breath better. I've enjoyed tai chi (the 128 poses version), yoga, a split yoga-pilates combo, ecstatic dance, and some others. Kneading bread, though, is a whole other experience.

At the beginning of the knead, the dough is very sticky. It's almost like kneading cake batter that's sat out too long. It clings to your fingers, clumps around the heels of your hands... It can be annoying if you don't let yourself disappear into the back and forth motion of the kneading itself. If you do let yourself disappear into it, though... it's wonderful. The squish, the push, turn and fold, repeat. You just keep doing it over and over until the dough changes.

That's when my real meditation begins. There's a moment when the dough goes from being a sticky mess to being ... well, dough. It becomes a little tacky, but not overly wet, and it becomes doughy and elastic. That's when you work the muscles in your arms, when you push with your legs and the palms of your hands, when you can really lose yourself in the rhythm of what you're doing. There's a real joy to kneading, to the slight burn in the muscles of the shoulders if you aren't used to it.

I didn't meditate as much as I would have liked today, but there are more days to come. I had fun, I enjoyed kneading, and I loved what came out of the oven several hours later.

Salford scientists help create wind sculpture | Manchester Evening News - menmedia.co.uk

Salford scientists help create wind sculpture | Manchester Evening News - menmedia.co.uk

This is a picture of a gorgeous artistic wind chime created in England. It's a mix of both art and science, as sound scientists helped to formulate the way it would sit. The wind blows and it sings. I think it's quite lovely!

Warmth

This is the main way we heat our house. It's a (smallish, I suppose) parlor stove, circa late 1800s or early 1900s. It's pretty, and although it went through some abuse, it is not a bad little stove. It easily heats most of the lower level of the house (two bedrooms, a bathroom, a LARGE living room, dining room, kitchen, office space). It doesn't quite get through to the family room (which connects past the kitchen through double doors) or the upstairs, but hey, it's a parlor stove. It's not airtight, but it does run relatively well on a good load of wood. It burns down fairly waste-free, and doesn't produce as much ash as some of our old stoves have.

It's currently squatting happily on its three legs in our living room, burning away at a nice pace. Above it is a relatively large box that looks odd, and is called MagicHeat. It's an interesting contraption that "harvests" the heat that would otherwise be lost as it flits up your chimney. The internal thermostat clicks on at 150F, and off at 120F or so, blowing only hot air into your room. The thing raises the temperature in the main living areas by as much as 10-12 degrees! I admit that when Gray said he was going to install this thing, I was hesitant. It was expensive (though his parents bought it for us for Christmas, thank all that's holy), and it didn't seem that an ugly box on a pipe could do all it claims. Well... it does. And then some!

It has improved the draw on our chimney, warmed the house, lowered the smoke in the house (which is a long story I don't want to get into right now), and gives us an oral warning when the wood needs more stove. When the thermostat clicks off the fan, which isn't all that loud but is definitely easily heard, we know the heat is dropping down. That lets us get wood on while there are still nice, cherry coals glowing in the fireplace. I think our wood is also burning more efficiently, but that's just an opinion.

Having this stove in our living room has done a few things for our family. First, we like to congregate there, because it's many degrees warmer than anywhere else in the house. Second, it's just pleasant to be around a crackling fire, and our lovely cast iron fireplace has two little chevrons of mesh that allow us to watch our fire as well as feel its heat. Third, it's allowed us to set our thermostat to 55F and make it this far through the winter (albeit a fairly warm one) with only a  half tank of oil so far. Generally speaking, the only time the furnace goes on is if the fire dies out (sometimes in the morning this happens as the stove really isn't an all nighter) or if we have over friends who aren't inured to the cold like we are.

For me, this has become a place of refuge. I no longer hide away in my bedroom. I no longer have my computer in my bedroom, either. It's in the office, and there it stays. I go to it, rather than lugging it around with me. I've become much less dependent on this piece of technology. Don't get me wrong: I still use it, and love it. It simply has ceased to be my lover, my focus. This has resulted in a cleaner house, happier family members, children who are forced to clean up their messes while they grumble incessantly, and dinners that are tasty and healthy and rarely "thrown together" at the last minute.

The upstairs is a different category altogether. I will admit, the chill of the upstairs (usually hovering around 55F, though on very cold nights it will drop into the 40s occasionally) has me prefer to go up only for necessary rituals (my altars are in my room) and to grab clothing or to sleep. I love my room, and it is very much a sanctuary, but it's a cold one that forces me to bundle up. I have come to see it as a place to meditate while in a cocoon of blankets (yes, that really is me just before bed, bundled up almost to the point of being unrecognizable lol). I use a heating pad to warm up the sheets (while we do have coals I could use, I think it's not worth the fire hazard to take a pan of hot coals up to warm my feet at night *chuckle*) while I'm cuddling down, and then it goes off and I wrap myself up in the quilts and sheets and microfiber, and I drift off to a very restful sleep.

Nightcap

I have found that the sheer weight of the winter-weight quilts is a comforting thing. I've also come to understand, intimately, why people wore nightcaps and kerchiefs to bed prior to forced air heating! As you can see in the above picture, I have a blanket thrown over my head. This is because my bedroom wall is an outside wall, and it's cold when the wind blows. It will sap the heat out of my body through my head and leave me shivering. The simple application of a throw over my noggin leaves me toasty warm throughout the night. I'm surprised how much of a difference it made! I am thinking of asking for an actual nightcap for myself for my birthday (in just a couple of weeks! WOW!), because I think it would improve my sleep and warmth. I like the idea of having it ON me rather than wrapped around me, because it wouldn't slip off when I turned over, nor would I lose it when I get up to pee in the middle of the night.

In any case, this winter has turned out to be a very meditative one. I've had less feeling of stress and "run around syndrome" than previous years, and I just feel better about myself and my surroundings. It's been pretty peaceful here, and we've settled into decent routines that carry us from day to day with gentleness and love. My life is not perfect, by any means, but... who'd want that anyhow? I like my little deviations from normalcy.

Observation Seeds, 1 and 2

I'm sure many of you have seen this image before. What do you see in the picture? I see many things, but I always see the old couple first, looking at one another with an abiding love. I see the grail. I see Mexicans. I see a doorway. I see so much. Someone on one of the many blogs I read (I cannot remember who, and I wish I did!) had a writing seed challenge for January 2012. If I remember correctly, the idea was to take time to observe every day, and then write a few lines about what you observed. You could be general or specific, and there was no limit to what type of writing you could do. Poetry, prose, descriptions, point form bullets, everything was acceptable. I have decided to take on this challenge for the month of January.

On January 1st, I did the observation but didn't write about it. It's actually a common observation of mine, but it affects me so deeply that I feel I need to write it down.

January 1: I close my eyes, and the sound of the heavy rainfall beats on the roof above me. I know there isn't much insulation, and the room is cold. I am buried beneath my blankets, warm and safe but vitally aware of the violence of the elements just beyond the wooden skin protecting me. I can hear several kinds of water, in fact: the actual rainfall itself, the secondary bounces as it hits the roof, the dripping of excess water off the eaves, the lashing sound as the raindrops skitter past the trees that lean toward my room, and even the splash of water on mud far below my room at the back of the house. I love this sound, and it makes my heart swell with joy.

January 2: I can smell the wood cooking in the other room. Some of our wood is rather wet, and we're drying it on the top of the wood stove before putting it in to burn, and it gives off a particular scent so different from the smell of it burning. There's no smoke involved, although sometimes there is steam if the wood is wet enough. Mostly it is just a warm, woody, earthy smell that fills the house and makes me think of quiet.

The Year in Review

It's the last day of 2011. Tomorrow will be a whole new year. I have decided to take a trip through this year and look at the changes that have come about. Sometimes, it's important to remember that stuff, you know?

In January, I was going through the turmoil of ending my relationship with my ex-love Tony, extricating myself from his house, his life (and his wife's life). It was not pleasant, and I spent much of the month being overwhelmed, emotionally bereft, and generally broken. I really think the best post to explain it all was the one I wrote on trust. Trust was a large factor in my life, broken trust especially. It's something I still struggle with, partially because I've had trust broken so many times over my life in big ways, and partially as the blow-out from the break-up we went through. Poly "divorce" (for lack of a better word) is a highly unpleasant thing at the best of times. This one was not at the best of times.

February was a month that I didn't blog here much. I suspect I was just too emotionally raw to really do much, but I was also in the home stretch at seminary. Most of the blog posts were "writing seeds" from the book we were working through. I touched on so many subjects, all of them deep and important, but none to do with how I was truly doing, if that makes any sense.

Lent was my focus through much of March, and I wrote a lot about my impressions of it. I especially like this post because it touches on my beliefs as a "hybrid" of Greek and Christian beliefs. There's also a labyrinth poem that I am somewhat proud of for its meter and rhyme. I find myself now looking ahead to Lent in the New Year, and what sort of revelations it will bring to me...

Spring started coming in April, and I spent more time out of doors. I went for a walk at a friend's brand new land, and ended up breaking my right ankle. Ouch. That's the first bone I've ever broken, and it was not something I enjoyed at all. I felt very trapped in the house in Hinsdale, unable to leave my room, dependent on people who were not only no longer lovers or family, but who were rapidly choosing to become enemies. April was the month that I broke all of my own rules, and did something so horrible that it almost destroyed me, my family, everything I've worked for through the years. I'm still recovering from it today, which is a part of that whole trust issue I mentioned before. It's hard... it's frightening! I haven't given up, though, and I persevered through all the nastiness and pain and anguish, and I'm not in April anymore.

May was about building foundations again. It was close to graduation and ordination time, and also approaching the time when we would be leaving the house that was now owned by Tony and wife, and going to a new place. We didn't know yet that our dream house would fall through, though we had (by this month) seen the new house which was destined to be our own. We had been razed to the ground, and now it was time to lay that new foundation. The big rocks (family, relationship) had to be firmly laid at the bottom, so that nothing else could topple whatever we built. I know at the time I didn't feel as if I was doing a very good job, but I can look back now with a bit of mercy on myself and see that I was doing the best I could.

I can explain June in two words: confirmation, and ordination. The whole month seemed to be eaten up by those two ceremonies. Confirmation was fairly quiet, but very heartfelt. Ordination was a huge production number, and I loved every moment of it despite shaking in my boots throughout. I went on retreat, took my first Communion as a confirmed Christian, re-dedicated myself to my Greek gods, and accepted the anointing of myself as an Interfaith Minister.

July had me living alone in the parsonage of our church. It was a peaceful time, although I was mourning not having a garden. I tried to grow tomatoes in pots, but it just didn't work out. I had lush leaves, but almost no fruit at all. Still, I tried. It was a way of laying in my dreams (and prayers) for this winter, I suppose. I still ache that I can't open a jar of our own tomatoes in January, when I want them most, but at least I have a few dilly tomatoes and one package of frozen home-grown beans left. I plan on using them around my birthday, I think.

I spent most of August in a time of introspection. I thought about our children, about our relationships, about our life. I thought about me, and how I'd forgotten to pray for myself for a very long time. A friend got badly hurt, and some things happened that got me very emotionally hurt. It was also the time that I started to realize that I could exist outside of my relationship. I'm still not sure I like that, to be honest. I realize it's a healthy realization, and I'm not trying to bury it or anything. There's a certain scariness to it, though; the idea that even if Gray or sis were to leave, even if the kids were suddenly no longer in my life, I could continue on. It might hurt, it might ache, it might burn like the fires of Hel, but I would go on, and I would live my life. It's not a comforting thought, really, because of the pain it involves. I don't fear death; Hecate cured me of that some years ago. I do fear pain, though... and most of my life has been spent running from one shelter to another, avoiding pain. For the first time in my life, at 40 years of age, I feel as if I can walk through pain and still be standing. I suppose that must mean I'm grown up now?

September was a month of food for me. I was at the parsonage, now joined by Gray and sis and kids. I was cooking a lot more, and I even tried some fun things like fudge. I made one of my favorite Hungarian recipes, chicken paprikash, and shared the recipe with the blogosphere. I dealt with a lot of emotional issues, some of which are still ongoing, but I dealt with a grace I didn't know I had.

We moved into our new home in October, and I learned that the land here is quite numinous. We spent hours lugging boxes, cleaning, scouring carpets, and settling in. We got children registered and going to their new school. It was a time of new beginnings, which might seem odd for October, but suited me just fine. I celebrated a number of holy days, some Jewish and some Christian, most Hellenic, and enjoyed the fact that the new house and land provided me with peace to do such things.

In November, I finally got my altars set up. For me, this was a way of saying, "This is HOME." I'd never gone so long without altars (the ones in the parsonage were fairly rudimentary, but at least they were present). It was with a sense of true relief that I pulled out all my sacred items and placed them reverently in their places. Since then I've moved a few things around, but the basic lay-out has continued to stay the same. I love it! My room is truly wonderful, a place of sanctuary for me. I look forward to spring, and the time when I can throw open both windows and let the clear, cleansing breeze blow through.

This month, December, I've found myself strangely removed from everything. I didn't get into my usual funk around Yule and Christmas. I had emotional moments, yes, but nothing like the past 9 years. I talked to my daughter, enjoyed listening to her open her gifts, had a little party with friends, and baked cookies successfully for the first time, really. It's been a good month, and a quiet one. Most of the boxes have been sorted through. Most of our things have been found (or replaced if lost). There's wood in the house, and the fireplace has been cranking out most of the house's heat for the past month.

The angst and anger of January has faded. I can't say that I've completely recovered from the blow of my relationship ending and the resulting "divorce" situation, but I have come to terms with it and moved on. I try not to think about the bad times, even when that means doing things like deleting a few pictures off my hard drive. I don't even spend much time thinking on the good times, to be honest, other than to take the lessons I learned (how to grow food in a garden, how to raise and butcher chickens, etc.) and apply them to the new life we've started here. Though we intended to stay close to where we were previously, fate has moved us an hour away, and that seems to have been a wonderful thing. Life is good. Life is good. Life is good.

Can a little baby change the world?

The question asked on my daily devotion was whether it was reasonable to expect a small baby to change the whole world. I ask in return, is it reasonable to expect a small baby to NOT change the world? Anyone who has ever interacted with a small baby will tell you that the world has changed, from the very moment that child was held in your arms. Any new parent will explain the incredible changes that they go through in order to have their child there with them in their home. Look at a new parent's eyes, at the dark circles and slightly hysterically happy smile, and you will see that the world has changed. Drastically.

There's a lot out there about The Baby Jesus. Google it and you'll find thousands upon thousands of entries, some Biblical in nature, others opinion or critique. The very fact that you have found those entries tells you that "the baby Jesus" certainly changed our world. Whether you see him as a metaphor, a borrowed god from another culture, a god in his own right, or the bastard son of a woman who didn't know what else to do doesn't really matter at this late date. Our world has been changed, some would say for the better, some for the worse. After all, the world's most horrible wars have been fought in the name of God. We must never let go of the knowledge that the world's most beautiful actions are done in the name of God, too.

There are people all around the world who celebrate something amazing in the next few days. Some celebrate Christmas. Some celebrate Hannukah. There's Kwanzaa, Solstice, Mithrasmass, Yuletide, and even New Year. Almost all of these touch on the idea of bringing something new and exciting into the world, bringing in light and joy and hope. The themes are similar, even downright suspiciously so in some cases. And it really doesn't matter at all what you celebrate.

Whether we celebrate the birth of Christ, the rebirth of light, the birth of the new year, or some other type of birth, may your winter holy days be TRULY holy.

Blessings!

All I want for Christmas...

Dear Santa, Jesus, Holly King, Dionysos, Strega Nona, and whoever else might be listening...

I like this time of year. Even though there are a few blowhards who are so "bah humbug" that they ruin it for themselves, the majority of people of ALL religions and none are happy and humming around this time. I like that people tend to actually remember their pleases and thank yous. I like that politeness sneaks back into a lot of people's daily lives. It might be fleeting, but it's nice that this time of year encourages everyone to think of others rather than of themselves.

I've spent a lot of time thinking about others the past few months, and a bit of time thinking of myself, too. I've tried to make sure that my thoughts on myself have been of the more altruistic variety, though I know I've had a few "me me me!" moments that I'm less than proud of. Still, I don't think I've done too badly this year.

I do have some things to ask for, though.

Peace in our country. That one tops the list. I get scared when I read about our politicians changing the Constitution, sidestepping it, or just plain ignoring it. I get scared when I hear about possible loss of rights, like the right to a swift trial and to a lawyer, and the loss of the right to freedom of personhood. I'm terrified when I get told that having more than a week's worth of food is now considered a terrorist activity by some. I'm worried about myself, my children, my family... my country. It's a scary time. I'm not asking for instant peace, mind you. A gentle up-swing in sanity would be awful nice, though.

Self-esteem. Yeah, I know this one's mostly just for me, but it does affect my family a lot. I'd like to know that I'm worth what I use up around here. I'd like to know that my contributions make a big difference. I'd like to be comfortable in my own skin.

Food. We always have food, even if it isn't necessarily what everyone wants to eat. But I have friends who have real problems with finding enough to eat, who live on food stamps or hand outs, who struggle to make every single penny count. I'd like to know that the people around me aren't starving. I'd like to know that my friends and neighbors, and their friends and neighbors, can grow and raise enough food to feed themselves healthily. I'd like to live long enough to see the world NOT be starving over vast acres of its surface.

Inner silence. Another one for me, Santa. I'd like to close my eyes and not hear bickering or crying or upset or heartbreak or grief or worry or concern. I'd like to close my eyes and know that everything is right around me. I'd like to sleep each night aware that at least in my corner, the parts I have the ability to touch, are just a little bit better today than yesterday. I'd like to go to bed with silence and joy in my mind.

Enough. I want enough. I can't quantify "enough" for you, but it means not being concerned that we can afford to pay the water bill. It means not having an emotional melt down because one of the kids left a heater running all day. It means looking outside to see enough wood to make it through the winter. It means looking in the fridge and finding food that is healthy, plentiful, and that tastes good. That kind of stuff.

I know those are tall orders, Santa. But they're my wishes. I want my family to be truly, deeply happy. When they are happy and relaxed, I tend to be, too. I truly love seeing the smiles on the faces of those I love, excited for the holy days just over the horizon.

Blessings, Santa... Blessings!

Hermes Devotional

Guardian of the Road: A Devotional Anthology in Honor of Hermes

Call for submissions!

We are interested in a wide variety of pieces, including (but not limited to) scholarly articles, short fiction, poetry, original translations of ancient texts, hymns, rituals and artwork.

Submitters are strongly encouraged to explore the many facets of this complex god in their work. Syncretisms between Hermes and other gods, such as Mercurius, are acceptable. A good starting point for ideas can be found here.

All works must be original, not public domain. No plagiarism. Previously published submissions are acceptable, provided the author retains all rights to the work. Authors retain all rights to the submission. Upon acceptance, the author will be sent a permission to publish form along with a request for a short biography to include in the anthology.

The editor reserves the right to make any minor changes in the case of grammar, spelling and formatting concerns. The editor also reserves the right to request modification of submissions and to reject submissions as necessary.

No monetary compensation will be provided. Proceeds from all sales will be divided between charitable donations in the name of the God, and production costs for future publications from Bibliotheca Alexandrina. All contributors will receive a coupon code which will allow them to purchase three copies of the anthology at cost.

Acceptable length is anywhere from 100-10,000 words, and the submissions period will run from 1 August 2011 – 31 January 2012, with the projected release date of March 2012. Please send your submission either in the body of the email or as a .doc/.docx or plain text/RTF attachment (for Mac users) with “Hermes Devotional” in the subject line to Kadynastar78@yahoo.com. Any artwork submitted should be scanned in or created at 300 dpi and sent as a .jpg or .tif file. Please remember to include a by-line in your email: your name as you would like it to appear in the book!

Chicken Parmesan

I'm not sure what possessed me to make chicken parmesan tonight, but I'm certainly glad I did! I had three chicken breasts defrosted, and it just sounded like the right thing to try. This is my own recipe, created after reading a variety of recipes online and deciding that I didn't really like any of them. Feel free to try it out, and add your own touches to make it yours!

Ingredients, sauce:
* 2 large cloves garlic, minced
* 1 medium onion, chopped
* 2 cans crushed or diced tomatoes
* 1/4 cup red wine
* 2 bay leaves
* spices to taste

Ingredients, chicken parm:
* 3 large chicken breasts, boneless and skinless

* approximately 1 cup bread crumbs
* 2 eggs, scrambled with a touch of milk or cream
* olive oil for cooking in
* salt and pepper to taste
* one slice mozzarella (or other) cheese per piece of chicken
* 2 cups shredded parmesan

Method:
Make your sauce first, as it will need time to reduce. In a large sauce pan, pour about a tablespoon of olive oil and your chopped onion. Saute on medium high heat until the onions are just starting to clarify, but before they become mushy. Add the wine and garlic, stir well, and saute another few moments. Reduce the heat to medium and add the tomatoes and bay leaves. Spice to taste; I use a sprinkle of salt and pepper and nothing else.  Lower the heat to allow the sauce to simmer but not boil. Stir occasionally as you allow the sauce to reduce.

Take your chicken breasts and slide them into a plastic baggie, or wrap in saran wrap, or put between two pieces of wax paper. Using a meat hammer or rolling pin (or even an empty wine bottle), pound each chicken breast until it is about a half inch thick. Try to stop before the breasts fall apart, but for flavor's sake it's better to go a bit long than a bit short. Set the breasts aside on a plate while you prepare the breading. While you are doing all that, heat another tablespoon or two of olive oil in a cast iron or other good quality fry pan.

Pour the breadcrumbs into a large flat container (I usually use a straight edged pie plate) and add salt and pepper to taste. Some people also like to add oregano, but I didn't this time. Mix well with a fork. Cut the chicken into serving size pieces (about the size of your palm) and dip each piece into the egg mixture. Lift it and allow it to drip and then dip it into the bread crumbs, flipping to coat well on both (all) sides. Place the chicken into the fry pan and allow to cook about two to three minutes per side (you want your chicken mostly cooked, but NOT completely!). Preheat your oven to 375F.

As you're browning the first batch of breaded chicken, check your sauce. It is probably still very liquid, which is fine. Into the bottom of a casserole dish or high sided baking pan, pour some of the liquid. You don't want to drown your chicken, but it should cover the bottom of the pan just barely.

As the chicken pieces are cooked, place them into a single layer in the casserole dish. Once all the chicken is in the dish, pour the rest of the sauce over the top of the chicken, being sure to cover all of it. On top of the sauce, add a slice of mozzarella (I didn't have mozza so I used provolone, and it was DELISH). On top of the entire thing, sprinkle your parmesan cheese. Bake in the oven for about 20 minutes, or until the cheese is just beginning to brown and bubble.

I served this dish with a mix of jasmine rice and orzo, which I cooked separately and then mixed together with a tiny bit of olive oil and salt, and a side salad. I must say, I'm very pleased with the results. The chicken was tender enough to cut with a fork (easily), the sauce was very tomato-ey and flavorful without being too tart or watery. My family gave me feedback that included the phrases, "restaurant quality" and "gourmet." Yay for me!

Independent Goddesses Devotional

Unto Herself: A Devotional Anthology for Independent Goddesses

Call for submissions!

We are seeking submissions for a devotional anthology for a cross-pantheon look at virgin Goddesses. This includes Goddesses such as Artemis, Athena, and Hestia, but also those from other pantheons. Pieces in honor of any Goddess from any pantheon who operates without a male consort are welcome, such as Anahita, Anat, Gefjon, Kumari, The Morrigan, Skadhi, Vesta, The Zorya, and others. We are interested in a wide variety of works, including (but not limited to) short fiction, poetry, original translations of ancient texts, hymns, rituals, artwork, personal stories, and scholarly articles — particularly those that compare or contrast the idea of virginity across cultural lines. We are especially looking for submissions that focus upon the Goddesses’ self-reliance and independence in some way, regardless of Their physical virginity.

All works must be original, not public domain. No plagiarism. Previously published submissions are acceptable, provided the author retains all rights to the work. Authors retain all rights to the submission. Upon acceptance, the author will be sent a permission to publish form along with a request for a short biography to include in the anthology.

The editor reserves the right to make any minor changes in the case of grammar, spelling and formatting concerns. The editor also reserves the right to request modification of submissions and to reject submissions as necessary.

As this is a devotional work, no monetary compensation will be provided. Proceeds from all sales will be divided between charitable donations in the names of the Goddesses and production costs for future publications from Bibliotheca Alexandrina. All contributors will receive a coupon code which will allow them to purchase three copies of this anthology at cost.

Acceptable length is anywhere from 100-10,000 words (with the exception of poetry). The submissions period will open November 1, 2011 and close March 31, 2012 with a projected release date of May 2012. Please send your submission either in the body of the email or as a .doc or plain text/RTF attachment with “Parthenos Devotional” in the subject line to rian3x3@gmail.com. Any artwork submitted should be scanned in or created at 300 dpi and sent as a .jpg or .tif file.

Athena Devotional from Bibliotheca Alexandrina

Shield of Wisdom: A Devotional Anthology in Honor of Athena

Call for Submissions!

We are interested in a wide variety of pieces, including (but not limited to) scholarly articles, short fiction, personal experiences, artwork, poetry, rituals, hymns, and original translations of ancient texts.

Contributors are strongly encouraged to consider the Goddess Athena’s many aspects and epithets while creating their submissions. Athena is a Virgin Goddess of Wisdom and War, as well as a Friend and Champion to Heroes. Bearing aegis and spear against her enemies, Athena is a Protector and a Guide, of both cities and individuals. She is a Goddess of Justice and Transformation, as well as Arts such as weaving and pottery. These are but a few of the many aspects of this Goddess, and contributors are encouraged to explore these and other aspects. While this rich mythology involving Athena is an excellent resource, contributors are also encouraged to make use of archaeological, linguistic, philosophical and other resources. Entries focusing on other deities shall not be accepted, unless said entries specifically focus on the deity’s relationship to Athena (ie: Athena as the Daughter of Zeus, Athena in her contest with Poseidon for rulership of Athens, Athena in comparison to the Roman Minerva, Athena and Hephaestus as patrons of handicrafts, Athena and Ares as Deities of War, Athena in comparison to the Egyptian Neith, etc.).

All works must be original, not public domain. No plagiarism. Scholarly articles must properly cite sources where applicable. Previously published submissions are acceptable, provided the author retains all rights to the work. Authors retain all rights to the submission. Upon acceptance, the author will be sent a permission to publish form along with a request for a short biography to include in the anthology.

The editor reserves the right to make any minor changes in the case of grammar, spelling and formatting concerns. The editor also reserves the right to request modification of submissions and to reject submissions as necessary.

No monetary compensation will be provided. Proceeds from all sales will be divided between charitable donations in the name of the Goddess, and production costs for future publications from Bibliotheca Alexandrina. All contributors will receive a coupon code which will allow them to purchase three copies of the anthology at cost.

Acceptable length is anywhere from 100-10,000 words (with the exception of poetry). All artwork must be at least 300dpi. The submissions period will run from October 1, 2011 – March 31, 2012, with the projected release date of May 2012. Please send your submission either in the body of the email or as a .doc/.docx attachment with “Athena Devotional” in the subject line to athenadevotional@gmail.com .

What Season?

You hear it everywhere: 'Tis the season! But what season? As a friend of mine on FaceBook commented, there are literally dozens, perhaps hundreds of winter holy days that happen between now and the secular New Year. While I don't celebrate them all, I do honor many traditions.  In our home, we celebrate Advent in the Christian tradition, Yule in the generic pagan tradition, Solstice in my Hellenic tradition, Hannukah in the Jewish tradition, and sometimes Bodhi Day in the Buddhist tradition. Each has its own tenor, its own feel to it, and each is holy and true and wise and full of lessons for us. Perhaps the goal is not so much to celebrate all the time, but to see the celebration in every day.

It's hard to believe that it's Advent already. We lit the first of the four Advent candles at church yesterday, and focused on the theme of peace. Our pastor suggested that Advent as a whole is a time to become more aware, to be awake, to focus on what we have while being open and ready for new opportunities. After all, we get what we expect, and if our minds are dragging and our spirits are low, that's the best we'll be able to do. He used the image of Tigger and Eeyore from the Winnie the Pooh series. Tigger is almost always happy, bouncing from place to place, finding the bright side of life no matter what's thrown at him. The result is that he sees the world as a happy, peaceful place and so, to a certain extent, it is. Eeyore, on the other hand, sees a rain cloud on every horizon and an earthquake on every nice day. Hence, he is always depressed, expecting the worst. Even if a good day happens, it's only a precursor to what will likely be a horrid day tomorrow. These become self fulfilling prophecies.

The other thing our pastor brought up was a lecture by Randy Pausch, done at Carnegie Mellon University just after his diagnosis with terminal liver cancer. It's called The Last Lecture but not because of his impending passing. The lecture series he was presenting for had held that name for many years, the idea being to present something that would be your legacy, as if you had only one last lecture that you could give to the students. As he puts it in the video, "I finally nailed the venue, and they changed the name!" I haven't watched the whole lecture yet (it's an hour and a half long, and it demands your full attention) but what I have seen is incredibly inspiring. Live in the day is the basic message. You can't change tomorrow, you can't change yesterday, so make today count. Enjoy it for what it is. How many of us can say we do that? And we're not dying.

So what IS Advent, anyhow? The word 'advent' means 'coming' or 'long awaited' or even 'just arrived.' We talk about the advent of the computer age, and the advent of the automobile without blinking. The Christian Advent is simply the beginning, or coming, of the Christ Child. It's more a symbolic (in the version I practice) than literal - most Biblical (and other) scholars now agree that it is almost impossible that Christ was born during the winter, and moreso that there likely wasn't a lot of snow in his area of birth anyhow. The story of the birth of Yeshua is a long one, convoluted, often mixed up. The four Gospels and associated extra-biblical texts give very different versions of the whole ordeal. The story that has become so popular (census, trip to Bethlehem, birth in the stable, Wise Men showing up, gifts of priceless things, Herod, flight to Egypt, in that order) is almost completely fictionalized. Whether you believe in Yeshua as a human figure or a myth doesn't really matter. The story really doesn't bear much resemblance to what's in the Gospels. At best, it's a mashup of the assorted texts, jammed together to make a crazy quilt of a story that sounds good in children's books.

Just as your average Hellenic polytheist doesn't believe that Zeus literally slept with and bred with everything that moved, and that Hera was a total shrew all the time, the average Christian doesn't believe that Yeshua lived the story as told. It is a mythology that is steeped in history almost as old as the story itself. It's been manipulated and changed by kings and popes and printing press letter setters until it's become a comfortable old favorite.

For me, this is a time of incubation. The colder weather keeps me indoors more often, and I'm cleaning the house for (and from) the holidays. I'm preparing prayers and services for my various gods. I'm counting the days until winter solstice. I'm creating presents for my loved ones, cooking and baking and otherwise nestling happily in my home. I see it as a time of "pregnant pause," time to think about my life and what I've done in the past year, and what changes I'd like to make in the coming one.

What is this the advent of, for you? What begins for you when the snow falls? What starts when mid-winter draws near? Where were you last year at this time? Where have you come to? Where are you going? Are you happy? If not, why not? Find your inner peace, the peace of faith, regardless of your religion (or lack thereof). Embrace it, sit with it. Take the time to breathe. After all, sometimes all you can do is keep breathing...

Finally... home.

Dirty...

When we left our old house in Hinsdale, NH, we were in a bit of a rush. Our new house wasn't ready, and we had to be out of the old one by a specific date, so we were forced to store much of our stuff up on a friend's land. We covered it well with tarps and stored only in good quality hard rubber bins, but we couldn't have expected a hurricane to blow through. Our tarps were still mostly in place, but had allowed water to get in and pool at one end which was a bit downhill. This resulted in several of our boxes being submerged completely. The ones that were uphill did fine (except for a couple that collapsed under the weight of the water on the tarp above them), but those lower ones were simply under water. The tubs did great at keeping things dry and clean during a rain storm, but not so much when completely under water. One of the boxes that got filled with water was filled with much of my important ritual gear.

Argh.

It wasn't a total loss. Some of my papers went to the gods, but most of what was there turned out to be brass and silver, and a few fabric things that had to be thrown away because of the mold on them. My stole, thank heavens, was able to be saved (thank you @CT!!). As you can see in the above picture, though, the brass was in pretty sad condition. The silver and pewter wasn't much better. So yesterday, I sat down with both silver and brass polish, rubber gloves, a toothbrush, lots of paper towels and linen rags, and set to cleaning.

And clean!

The end result was exceptionally pleasing. Most of my brass is now clean, and all of the silver has been restored. There are 3 brass candlesticks and a couple of pewter offering bowls left to clean, but I ran out of steam (and my sinuses couldn't handle the stink of the polish anymore). I decided to dedicate the day to fixing up my altars, since I've now been in the new house for well over a month and had only put together temporary mini-altars to my gods. It was time to do it, and do it right, and so I proceeded to empty boxes, clean things, mount shelves, launder head coverings, and set up the altars the way they ought to be set up.

My altars in their alcove.

My room is a bit oddly shaped, but I do love it. With its natural wood walls and ceiling, I feel as if I'm inside a log cabin, a sensation which is heightened exponentially when it is raining or snowing hard outside. It's a bit chilly, since there's no other house walls around me, but I just don't care. I can pull on extra blankets, after all. This picture was taken from my doorway into my room. The end of the bed (a built in platform bed!) segues into the alcove which has become my altar area. In place of the stacks of big rubber tubs that were there earlier in the day, I now have my old bedside table (refurbished into a small altar for the ancestors) and a large but low bookcase (the top of which is dedicated to my lady, Hecate). On the wall are some pictures and candle sconces, my drum, and the built-in shelves which have been cleaned and turned into proper small shrines for various gods.

For my ancestors.

My ancestors altar has been completely revamped. In the new digs, I just don't have the room (mentally or physically) for all the pictures that were around my old ancestor shrine. Instead, I have a red table runner (which has always been used for ritual) on top of which is a picture I took at Arlington Cemetery, a chunky red candle on a large holder, and two offering bowls (one for liquid and one for solids). It's simple... but once I set it up and said my prayers over it, it felt RIGHT. To the right of the altar is a small cupboard, recessed into the wall, with a door. At the moment it's not clean, but once it is, it will become a storage area for extra ritual tools and such. Likely it will contain the large amount of brass candlesticks that I have, as they're difficult to store elsewhere and I like to be able to access them easily.

Zeus and Hera

The top shelf of the small altars is for Zeus and Hera, who I honor as the ones who watch over marriage and relationships. For me, they are the essence of strong marriage, which has to overcome the trials and tribulations of miscommunication, unintentional misdirection, and the occasional white lie. The myths have Zeus and Hera at odds constantly, and while I see those as moral tales not necessarily representative of the gods themselves, for me it's a strong indication that marriage is not meant to be "made in heaven" but lived here on earth, with all the tribulations that come with it. And so they sit at the top of the heap, so to speak, King and Queen of the gods.

Aesclepius

Slightly below Zeus and Hera is the only other Olympian that I really give much honor to (except Hestia, but she's in the kitchen, as befits) on a regular basis. The small stuffed snake coils around an obelisk, happily watching all that goes on, looking for all the world like a serpent on a staff, a caduceus. There is a large amethyst rock there, and healing prayer beads that were made for me by a dear friend of mine. And beside that, a delicate clay rattle that sounds reminiscent of rain falling when shaken, and which was explained to me as being a healing rattle. When I or a family member is ill I will ask Aesclepius to bring us healing.

For Yeshua

Then comes the altar/shrine that will make my pagan peeps cringe: the one for Yeshua, aka Jesus. I am still working on that myself, because I spent so many years being "decidedly not Christian" even though I was never dealt any emotional blows as a young person by any incarnation of the church. Yet Yeshua tapped me, and I cannot deny that call anymore than I could deny the call from Hecate or the others. So for the first time he now has his own small altar. It's a bit sparse at the moment, as I slowly figure out the things he likes, but again, it feels RIGHT.

Dionysos

At the bottom of the shelves there is Dionysos, also a bit sparse because I haven't yet found all the items that usually go on his altar. He has taken a backseat to others, of late, and yet I still owe so much to his presence in my life. I remember being told that Dionysos was a "gateway god" and that he might disappear or fade a bit after a while, and how much that bothered me. Now that it's slowly happening, it isn't painful, though there's a bit of an ache. I doubt he'll ever entirely disappear from my life; we have too much history now for that to happen. Still, his altar is at the bottom both because he is more outside the rules of purity as I worship him, and because that bottom shelf is so close to the big altar for Hecate, which is where he's always been. Eventually there will be more things, too.

Long shot of altars.

Above the shelves is a copper pressing of the Parthenon, something I picked up in a box of art books many years ago at an auction. It's one of my most prized altar images. I'm sure it's just a cheap reproduction of something more expensive, but it has real energy to it, a real feeling of connectedness. I apologize for the slightly blurry quality of the photos, but I'm reduced to using the camera on my Android phone since I dropped a rock on my good camera and killed it (sob). Still, at least there are photos, right?

I'm very pleased with how my little altar area turned out. I wasn't sure what I was doing until the very last minute, when I asked @CT to help me drag that heavy bookshelf upstairs. It sits well there, though, and really completes the whole thing. I toyed a bit with putting it under the shelf altars, but realized that Hecate doesn't mind being next to the ancestors, and at least in my own mind there's a certain reason for her altar to be between the ancestors and the Olympians.

Capable of shrouding.

It isn't often that I shroud my altars. I generally spend my time worshipping Hecate, who doesn't care if I have contact with ancestors or dead things or have my hands on things considered ritually impure. I have no need to shroud her space. However, I like to be able to shroud my shrines to the Olympians, out of respect for them, and so I built in a shroud this time. The green cloth you see there can be tacked up to cover all the small altars, shielding them completely from view. And yet again, I knew it was RIGHT when I did it.

Head coverings

Across from my altar alcove I have several small pegs that I used to hang up my head coverings. I use these in many of my rituals and prayers, almost as a Jewish person would use a talit. In a way, they almost replace my old Wiccan robes (which I still have). Those I would put on to remind myself that I was "between the worlds" during ritual, and these I wear to remind myself that I am in holy space. They are not so different... in a way, they are a symbol that I carry that holy space inside me, always.

There, now it is done. I have enjoyed sharing these pictures with you, and I hope you enjoyed seeing them as much as I enjoyed sharing! Blessings to all!