Miss Busy as Divination Assistant

Today, I had to do some emergency divination.  Superman had a situation and needed my insights.  I usually do small, quick readings on my dresser top altar, but this called for something more.

Once I had the youngest two down for a nap, I set Miss Busy on the couch with a stack of books and started preparing the table for a rather in depth reading.  Miss Busy stayed on the couch just long enough for me to gather my supplies from the dresser and then she was all up in my business.  Looking and touching and learning, but I just wasn't in a teaching mode.  I told her to sit quietly and watch.   

She sat big eyed and silent for about 30 seconds before bouncing over the the record player and spinning some Fleetwood Mac we can call that witchy music today.  I gave her the mommy means business look and pointed dramatically at her chair.  She sat quietly before beginning to rearrange my set up.  I reminded her not to touch andprep to get started.  Somewhere in all this, I failed to get a good light on two separate charcoal disks.

She was doing pretty well at the not touching part, but keeping quiet was getting the best of her.  After shushing her for the third or fourth time, I explained once again that it had to be quiet so I could focus.  It didn't make her any quieter, just redirected her whispered chatter.  "Mommy, focus."  She reminded me over and over. When I reminded her to be quetshe shushed me .  As the cards rustled she very severely shushed them as well.  

The settling factor ended up being the threat of a nap.  Surprisingly, I did end up with a good reading.  Maybe Miss Busy learned something from watching, but I learned alot from her presence.  Firstly that my ability to focus is not as fragile as I believed.  Secondly, that it is time to get Miss Busy more actively involved with the craft.  

What's In a Name

As pagans, we are quick to see the importance of a name.  We are so in tune with the idea of a name holding power that we anoint ourselves with monikers that we feel suit our spiritual self and even petition our patrons to reveal a sacred name to be used only in ritual.  We are very careful when we name our children, seeking names of power and significance.  Still, even we may occasionally under estimate how much names mean.  Let's take my youngest daughter for example.

Little Bitty Baby who is no longer so little bitty and probably deserves a more fitting screen name was named very specifically pagan.  Her full name very literally translates into "dark moon." It is a beautiful, powerful and witchy name, but it has it's draw backs.  Our Little Moon as I will refer to her from now on loves the night.  At nearly six months old she still wakes up multiple times a night to just hang out.  She want her mama to come sit on the couch and talk to her while she half heartedly pretends to nurse.  It is exhausting for me, but thankfully it is not consistent.  Her nocturnal habits follow the moon phases.  When the moon is small and dark like this past week, she sleeps very little during the night.  Last night alone, she was up six times.  Then as the moon waxes to full her sleep time increases and I am only wakened twice during the night.  Some times exhaustion makes me want to grumble and fuss over the situation, but in my heart I know that I brought it upon myself.  One does not name a child for the great power of the night and expect her to sleep soundly from sun set to sun rise. 

Another prime example is Miss Busy.  Besides driving me crazy in new ways every day yesterday we had an ongoing debate over rather or not making cat food soup was an appropriate activity for a toddler she has an intense fascination with anything magickal.  She is constantly digging in my magickal cabinet bringing me incense cones, thumbing through my books, and trying to add to my stack of notes.  Just the other day, I caught her sitting on the kitchen floor sorting through my Oracle Cards as if she were reading them. Please note that none of these items are left where she can access them with any ease, she is simply determined and continually finds ways around my solutions intended to keep her out.  Once again, it's my fault.  I named her.  Her given name means "woman with great magickal power."  She accepts the fact that my sewing table is off limits and that certain drawers in the kitchen are not for her access, but she stubbornly refuses to stay out of my magickal cabinet.  She is so obsessed with my pentacle necklace that Superman has suggested that I make her one of her own. 

The power of names hold true even when the child is not named with the careful thought that most pagan parents put into choosing a name.  The older children from our first marriages were named with totally different perspectives and still live up to their names.  The child named after greenery and plant life loves flowers.  The one who's name is means "a feminine warlike bird" is small, graceful, and lethal in any verbal match.  The one who in utero was already named for his grandfather, is a small version of the man he was named for.  It goes on and on to even include Superman and myself.  When I pause to consider, names are far more powerful than I ever realized.  It is as if they are a life long spell we place on our children. 

There's The Kind of Help I Need and The Kind of Help I Don't Need

Let's start with the kind of help I apparently do need.  Yesterday I was convinced that the computer was broke.  I pushed the button and nothing happened.  All the cords appeared to be attached to the back of the tower I even jiggled them a bit for good measure, but with no results.  Now the device has been behaving a bit "off" the past few weeks, so the idea of it giving up the ghost was not a foreign thought.  I just pushed the button a few more times and then shrugged my shoulders and went about my day. 

When the littles napped, I snagged Miss Busy's tablet and blogged about my sad, broken, computer.  I also resolved to put my new found spare time to work and get more art, magic, meditation, and living done.  Then Superman got home from work.  He jiggled the same cords I did then pulled out the desk and plugged the unit back in.  Vola!  We had a working computer.  He smirked at me and named himself a computer genius, but said no more.  That means I'm in trouble and he's saving up all the smart comments he could have made about this escapade.  Next time I think I've gotten the upper hand in some silly, verbal sparing match he's going to pull out the material about the computer.  I'm sure he's already got the outline written. 

 

Which now brings me to the help I don't need.  In an attempt to be true to yesterday's resolutions, I got my day off to a good start in the arts and crafts department.  I prepped a canvas for a mixed media landscape and then turned my attention to the scrying mirror I've been planning.  I don't know if old Mercury is making a last ditch stab at me or if Miss Busy and Merlin have some strange allergic reaction to progress, but turmoil soon ensued.  

Just after I had applied a second coat of paint to the glass and turned my attention to the dishes, the kid and the cat broke into a racious game of tag which resulted in a foot print in my wet paint. Next was a game of peek-a-boo in the table cloth.   Not long after, I got an important phone call and ended up sounding like a nutter while I dove across the living room to rescue my tea mug from Miss Busy and then moments later was attacked by a plastic picture Merlin sent flying off the top of the fridge.  I certainly won't be able to say I had a dull day. 

Everyday Spirituality

Miss Busy likes to "help" me write rituals.

Since I am still fairly new to the craft, I am still working on making my path my own.  Last week, before the full moon, I decided to rewrite my circle casting and full moon rituals.  It sounded simple when I first hatched the plan, but it quickly spiraled into a hectic frenzy. 

Sensing that I was otherwise occupied, Miss Busy whirled around the house like a tornado yes, she looks sweet and calm in the photo, but seconds after I snapped it she was crouched on the tray shrieking like a banshee.  It was: write a couplet-got get Miss Busy out of the junk drawer, turn the page over-pull Miss Busy off of the kitchen counter, write another couplet-retrieve the pacifier Miss Busy snatched out of the babies mouth....On and on and on.  Nap time never comes fast enough or lasts long enough. 

Often, it feels as if motherhood is getting in the way of my spiritual life.  Then I have to remind myself that nothing is more spiritual than being me: a mother, a wife, a woman.  Learning to accept me and become the best me possible is the highest spiritual calling I have.  The fancy way to say it is enlightenment. 

I seek to be one with the world around me, communicate with the Elementals, hone my divination skills, and practice meditation all because my higher self will benefit the universe far more than my current self could ever imagine.  In my mothering role I practice patients, seek resourcefulness, and learn to put the needs of others before my own plans.  Each of the disciplines I learn as a mother furthers me as an individual.  They also work to give my children a solid base and a good example to work from. 

Growing Friendship

My beautiful friend the Crab Apple Tree. 

Making friends takes me a long time. I am friendly and I like people.  I also believe that people like me, but making friends is not something that comes easily for me.  In fact, we have been in this town for a little over a year now and I have made a grand total of two friends: the lady who owns the liquor store down the street Miss Busy charmed her our first day in town and the lovely girl I am going to tell you about today.  There is also a potential new friend I met today, but that is still to be decided.

So, just at the end of our block lives a very lovely lady.  I walked right past her many times through out the late fall and winter with out taking a second glace.  I said a customary "hello," but took no special notice.  Then spring came and this little lady started to take on some beautiful color that I just couldn't help but comment on.  She accepted my compliments quietly at first perhaps more accustom to being overlooked, but eventually begin to respond with a gentle nod or a smile. 

As her buds started turning to leaves and her pink blossoms turned into hard green fruits, I grew to love her more and more.  I looked forward to our warm greetings as I undertook my daily walk and watched with great interest as she continued to grow more beautiful.  I often thought that her progression into summer and fall, laden with zesty little apples, mirrored my own amply pregnant body. 

When her fruits were at the peak of ripeness, I could resist no longer.  For months I had wanted to deepen our relationship, but had often felt a reserved shyness about her.  One beautiful afternoon, just before Mabon, I had to take the next step. 

I gently laid my hands on her bark and begin telling her how glad I was to have met her and how much I appreciated all that she had quietly added to my live.  She received me which was a relief, I was honestly very nervous that I would frighten her and it almost seemed as if the air around us grew warmer as we spoke. 

After a few moments I was moved to ask her if she would allow me to pick a few of her fruits for my altar.  She responded with a rush of gratitude, telling me how sorrowful she had been that nobody had appreciated her efforts for many years.  Once, long ago she had been appreciated, but now the only ones who took any heed of her dainty little apples were the squirrels and birds and even they seemed to prefer the offerings in the nearby bird feeder. By this point Miss Busy was getting antsy in her stroller.  I wrapped my arms around her scarred trunk and held her for a few moments before taking all of the fruit I could carry.

Back at the house, I arranged the offering of fruit on the altar.  Having an abundance of the tart little fruits, I also set a few in the fruit basket for munching.  Crab apples are tart and drying, but I ate each of these little treasure with relish.  I found such joy in knowing that I had not only been given a gift, but at the same time had been able to give one in return.  Since that time I stop to chat nearly everyday and returned to take some photographs.  She absolutely adored the photo session. 

***When I started writing this yesterday, it was before our afternoon walk.  During our walk, an exciting event unfolded.  As we approached this dear friend, Miss Busy begin yelling excitedly and waving.  When we stopped under her now golden boughs, my little girl reached up lovingly as if to embrace her.  I pushed the stroller up close to her trunk and Miss Busy stroked her bark, jabbering excitedly for several minutes.  It is beginning to get colder and the breaks in our walk are kept shorter, but this was an experience I would not have missed for the world. 

Feeling Crafty: Elemental Stones

Hand Painted Elemental Stones

Making a baby takes a lot of energy and keeping up with Miss Busy takes a lot of time, so lately I have been focusing on keeping me well and sane.  With only two weeks until my due date, I am feeling a surge of energy and the desire to create.  Thus, my most recent project. 

I have been collecting nice palm sized stones for over a month now and finally settled on these four to represent the Elementals in my sacred circle.  A few quick sketches and a daub of acrylic paint and I had exactly what I wanted.  Even Superman who was initially skeptical of the idea loves them.  I love working in Aboriginal art, but my brushes are starting to ruffle and give less precision than I like so this will probably be the last go around for them.  Waiting for a trip to the "city" for replacements will give me time to really meditate on what to do with the cauldron of stones sitting under my shrine. 

Thoughts On Motherhood

A Recent Photo of Miss Busy and I

There is a lot to be said for the stages of a woman's life.  Unfortunately, in our society the Maiden stage is idolized and moving on to the more mature and productive stages life is often feared or shunned.  Oh, being a Maiden is beautiful!  I love to hear the joy and optimism in my young Maiden's voice, but I also have no desire to be fourteen again.  A Maiden has troves of wonder and untouched beauty, but she also has a lot of learning to do and much of it will be painful. 

As a Mother, I feel I have come into my own.  I am currently carrying my sixth child and find myself to be more beautiful and confident than ever.  When I hold one of my children some of whom are now bigger than I am, I see how powerful and yet how small I can be at the same time.  I am the one who will provide the love that they need to grow and meet their potential, I am the measure by which they will gauge good and bad, and I am the one who's strength they will draw on.  Yet, with in all that power, I will still be unable to give them a perfect life and I am far from capable of  being  the perfect Mama I feel they deserve.  In my children I find both my honor and my humility.

As a Mother, I have learned that my body is amazing.  Before having babies, I had a body I was very proud of.  I was tall and lean, nothing except legs and boobs.  I never felt very beautiful, but I loved my figure.  When things didn't bounce right back after my first child, I felt somewhat like a failure and worked hard to get my shape back, but the babies just kept coming.  Then about the time my oldest was four he asked me, "Mama, why is your tummy so ugly."  I told him that the saggy skin and stretch marks were just the natural results of having children and he started to cry.  As he clung to me and apologized with his little heart absolutely broken over the damage he had done, I suddenly knew it didn't matter one bit.  I told him that he and his siblings were worth every single stretch mark  and I would not trade even a moment with one for them for my pretty tummy back.  That was the day I begin to make friends with my body.  Sometimes I still have a moment of insecurity, but then I remember that creating life is no easy task.  My body has worked hard and never failed to nurture and protect those I love the most.  My figure isn't perfect, but my body is. 

As a Mother, I learned to pick my battles.  My children are not here to be little reflections of me, make me look good, or to define my success as a human being.  My children are here to grow and learn and become the individuals they are meant to be.  It is very easy for many parents to view their offspring as little accessories and want to position them in whatever manner they will be the most flattering.  Sorry, but being a parent is not flattering.  It is often tiring and messy, but so very rewarding.  As long as my children are not behaving in a harmful way or being immoral, I see no reason to control their choices.  So what if Sassafras prefers camo to lace or Mr. Man chooses to wear long johns under swimming trunks to kindergarten?  They might not be following the status quo, but they are following their hearts.  By respecting them as individuals, I keep their hearts and minds open to my influence in the areas that really matter. 

I guess, over all it just boils down to...I love being a Mama.  Yet, as much as I love being the center of my children's world, I know the day is coming when they will move on.  G.I Joe keeps reminding me that he will be enlisted in a scant two years.  Then I will move on.  I will be the grandmother, the wise one, the crone.  It is a phase of life, I look forward to.  All in due time. 

Love Reflected

The Stone Charged with Love and Sunshine

This morning, I found a "new" stone sitting with my art supplies on the kitchen counter.  Since Superman is constantly bringing me stones I knew it had been left there for me to find,  but from the moment I picked it up I knew this one was special.  It isn't the most beautiful or unique stone he has brought me and like many others in my collection it emits a low steady pulse of energy, along with something else I couldn't identify right away. 

By the time my husband had emerged from the shower, I knew that this stone wasn't going to be added to the collection on the shrine.  I wanted it near me.  I envisioned wrapping it in wire and wearing it around my neck, but the truth was I was already becoming addicted to the feel of it in my hand.  I needed to know more about this stone that I had so quickly become fascinated with, so I asked Superman about it.  Then I understood. 

This past weekend, he and Miss Busy had been outside playing while I fixed a snack in the kitchen.  When I emerged from the apartment, I found her toddling around his Harley and he very patiently telling her the names of all the parts and explaining what they did.  At some point during their time together, Miss Busy had latched on to this particular rock and had been very reluctant to let it go (she is still in the stage where she mouths everything, so letting her keep it wasn't an option).  When he had finally convinced her to relinquish it, he had slipped it in his pocket then promptly forgot about it for a day or two. 

Somehow, the magic of love and sunshine had become infused in this stone.  It holds the memory of a beautiful daddy/daughter moment that was so generously shared with me.  I have always known that one can attach certain emotions to an item associated with an event, but this is the first time I have experienced being "given" a moment that I did not share in.  What a wonderful way to experience love this Beltane week.