My Evolving Path

So, I've been pretty quiet for the better part of six months now.  It's been pretty hectic in more ways than one, but I am hoping to get it together and begin sharing my witchy adventures again.

As most of my readers know do I still have readers after this long absence?  I have identified as an animistic witch and focused mostly on nature in my craft.  Things change.  Over the past several months I have been reevaluating my spirituality and practice, not because it wasn't working, but because I felt something else might work better.

To be honest, I never felt wholly comfortable with the Celtic style rituals found in much of American witchcraft.  I also found a lot of standard practices to be a bit unweildly.  As I looked to simplify, I fell into a lot of sigil magick, which I found to be highly effective.  Then it just seemed natural that I learn about the Runes.

With the Runes came a deeper interest in my Norse heritage especially when I found additional Norse ancestors in my lineage, this interest was also spurred by the fact that Superman had developed the same interest.  Soon, the interest became a longing and we begin perusing a Norse/Heathen/Asatru whatever you decide to call it path.  Finally, we found what fits!

As I seek to embrase and learn my tribal faith, I continue to practice nature magick in a mostly intuitive way.  Someday, I hope to be learned enough to consider myself a Vitki.

Spiritual Gardening

 

A few weeks ago, Superman walked past my alter and mentioned that it looked rather sad.  He was right. I have since fixed it, only to get wax all over it on Lammas.   With all the time I have been spending in the garden, I have been substituting my altar time with Earth time. If I had a garden space of my own, I would completely move my altar outdoors during the more temperate months. 

 

 

Several mornings a week, I take Miss Busy and Little Moon to the garden with me.  Perched in their double stroller and armed with snacks and sippy cups, the girls settle into a meditate state of stuffing their faces. In the silence that ensues, I invoke the elements and offer praise to the Universe while I weed, sucker, and harvest.  Standing barefooted in my garden with soil on my hands, I connect with nature and am nature. 

Even now, when my garden is not nearly as beautiful as it was when these photos were taken, a rather intense hail storm battered all the beautiful leaves  I find great inspiration in the strength and resilience found springing from the earth.  The plants are beginning to show the signs of weather and age, yet still they are producing food for my family.  In fact, the stress of our recent storm seems to have spurred some plants my cucumbers and zinnias to finally produce.  It makes me think of how we as individuals often require hard times to nudge us along in our own development.  Mountain gardening is a challenge in so many ways, but the struggles associated with it are teaching me so much.  Not just about this ecosystem and climate, but about myself and my relationship with the Earth. 

 

Mini Meditations

Lately, I've really been trying to focus on making my spirituality fit my life.  The hardest part is meditation.  It requires quiet, uninterrupted time that I just don't have.  So I am focusing more on mini-meditations, stolen moments to quiet myself and reflect.  A few of my favorites are listed below.

Hang the Laundry: I know it sounds like a chore and some may see it as extra work, but it's quite relaxing.  The repetitive motion and no brainer activity makes it a great time to think and reflect.  I leave the girls inside and use this time to focus on the invigorating power of the sun and the wind.  It always improves my outlook on the day. Plus the sight of colorful cloth diapers dancing in the wind gives me an enormous sense of accomplishment. 

Sit on the Toilet:  Yes, I did go there.  If you can't get a few moments any other way, hide in the bathroom.  Find a comfortable seat the floor or edge of the tub work just as well as the toilet and just quiet your mind.  The distinctive bath room white noise really helps.  Usually, I find myself hiding in the bathroom when it's been a particularly active day for Miss Busy.  Once I've found a few moments of comfortable balance, I try to focus on all the good, funny, silly things she has done.  It helps me feel far less frazzled. 

Get Something Done:  Maybe this sounds like the opposite of meditation, but stay with me.  If there is something you love to do, but feel you never have time, give it the time that you do have.  I keep some knitting or hand sewing easily accessible through out the day and sneak in a few minutes of work every chance I get.  The act of creating is very meditative for me and unless Miss Busy pulls my knitting down it is something that will never have to be redone.  If I knit one row, that one row will still be there tomorrow. 

Speed Write:  When there are just way too many things running around in my brain, I sit down and write them down as fast as I can.  Give it a try. No editing, no grammar checks, no reading over previous ideas.  Just toss them down on the paper as quickly as they pop into your head.  When you have finished, sit and relish a few moments of mental stillness before throwing the paper away or burning it on your altar. 

Fresh basil from the garden. It has nothing to do with this post
other than the fact that the smell of fresh basil makes me happy.

The Proverbial Woodpile

Years ago, when my oldest four were small, I had a homestead not the house pictured.  Although the house was modern, it was heated solely with wood.  Usually the job of bringing in firewood belonged to G.I. Joe and I, but one fall afternoon I decided to expedite the task by including the younger three as well.  The girls took to the task quickly, but Mr. Man had other ideas.  While the rest of us were heading out the door, that little rascal disappeared.  On my second trip back into the house with an armload of wood, I decided to investigate his disappearance I had assumed that he was looking for his chronically missing shoes and found him crouched behind his bed testing the "out of sight, out of mind" theory.  Unwilling to be punked by a four year old, I hustled him outside while he howled about the cruelty of forcing such a delicate individual out into the cold. 

By this time the wood box was nearly full, so I informed Mr. Man that the last two armloads of wood were his responsibility.  He continued to howl about the frigid temperature in the 40's while the rest of us filtered back into the house.  For the next ten minutes, I watched from the kitchen window as he stomped back and forth in front of the woodpile, kicking at the ground as he went.  With out any prompting from me, his brother went out and offered to help him, but was answered with a screamed, "Go away!"  About fifteen minutes into the saga, I went to stoke the fire and returned to the kitchen to see that Mr. Man was laying on top of the wood pile with his arms crossed defiantly, muttering under his breath.  Cracking open the kitchen door I heard his mantra, "I'm cold.  I'm cold.  I'm cold."  Returning to the wood pile, I explained the lack of logic in his protest.  If he would just bring in two arm loads of wood he could stay in the nice warm house for the rest of the day.  In response he added kicking  feet to the crossed arm, muttering pose. 



Hamming it up for the camera: Mr. Man (13) and G.I Joe (16)

 

Eventually, I did get my two arm loads of wood and Mr. Man was allowed shelter from the sub-Artic temperatures found in central North Carolina.  As cute and funny as this story is, as adults we really aren't any different than my stubborn son.  Human nature is to be  addicted to comfort.  Each of us has a well defined comfort zone.  When forced out of this zone we are often stubborn and defiant, unwilling to do the work required to get back to the place we feel safe in.

Those of us on a Pagan life path would probably all agree that peace and enlightenment of some form are major goals in our lives. We have an idea image of what we long to become, but we drag our feet when it comes to study and meditation. When life is busy or stressful we seem to balk at self improvement more than ever and that is when we need centering the most.  That is how we get stuck out on the wood pile when we would rather be snuggled up near the fire. 

Read a article about chakras or alternative medicine, take a quiet nature walk, spend a few moments breathing deeply and visualizing the person you want to be...Thirty minutes of focused "me" time every day will make a noticeable difference now and a life changing difference in the long run.  Every beautiful bird starts out as a humble egg. 

Free Form Dreading and Embracing Myself

 

It's been six weeks since the last time I brushed my hair, eight since I have conditioned.  I'm looking pretty wild right now and I love it.  Already this journey has taken paths I never anticipated and I am learning more about myself everyday.  I am becoming more empowered to be completely, totally, and honestly me.  Because I have now taken the drastic step of completely rejecting societies standards of beauty, for the first time in my life I know that I am pretty.  Really, I'm not trying to sound egotistical, this is a big break through for me. From my husbands loving influence, I use to believe I was pretty.  Now I simply know it. 

 

Growing up in rural Montana, I saw dreadlocks in person for the first time when I was 11 or 12 years old.  They were being worn by a blond girl of 17 or 18 and I wanted to be her.  To me, she was the epitome of beauty.  Not only was her hair magnificently wild, but everything about her spoke of natural ease.  Of course, I only saw her from a distance, but it was one of those slow motion cheesy movie scene moments.  It is completely correct to say that I was drawn to dreads, although at the time I could not put my finger on any other reason than aesthetics.  Since my super conservative parents weren't about to let me dread my hair, the idea went to the back burner and continued to percolate for over twenty years. 

 

As I grew older and begin learning more about the culture of my ancestors, I found that my longing for dreads was calling to me from a time long ago.   I am a proud descent of the ancient Celts (Lowland Scott) and Vikings (Finn and Swede) on my dads side of the family, with more Viking (Swede) mixed with Sioux (Mandan) and German on my mom's side.  It is fair to say that the majority of my ancient ancestry likely wore their hair in some kind of natural matted style.  If we want to be completely frank, most prehistoric people probably did since there was no means to brush and maintain their hair in an "orderly" fashion.   Having always felt like an old soul and needing to connect with those who came before me, the desire to grow dreads makes perfect sense. 

Spiritually, my decision to dread goes beyond ancestor reverence and is an extension of my relationship to nature and my kindred the Elementals.  It is an acceptance of my true self similar to the way many witches take on a spiritual name, the girlish woman who still loves to dance barefooted and who wraps herself in the wind.  It is showing the Universe that I am happy with who I am and love the person I was created to be. 


**Since some of you are bound to notice, I do have five twist and rip dreads tied off with wool.