So, I’m quite busy at the moment, a lot going on in different areas of my life, some good some bad and I don’t seem to be able to focus or settle on anything…

The biggest problem is my Mum. Her health is deteriorating badly but she doesn’t want to accept it or do anything about it. At times she is getting quite hostile to me because I am the one who sees how bad things are getting and nags her to get things sorted out. To be honest, when I am at home I do virtually everything for her. When I am away she just lets things go until I get back. I want her to have a nurse or social worker come in two or three times a week to do the things that don’t get done without my help. She sees that as loosing her independence and doesn’t even seem to realize how badly things fall apart when I am not here to sort things out. Meanwhile, my job is going very well and they are offering me more and more work and more and more responsibility. Early next year I might be working abroad for 3 months non stop. But what happens to Mum then? Should I go behind her back and try and set up something with the doctor or social services without telling her? It hurts me that in her present confused state she seems to think it is me that wants to rob her of her independence. Actually I only want her to be safe and well while I am away.

So I seem to be a fairly useless or impotent witch. I am aware of several things I could do, but when it comes to my family I get over concerned about how things could backfire. And witch-craft can backfire… I don’t actually cast spells or perform other kinds of magic very often, but I can. Actually, I am usually quite good; but like anyone who practices magic, I have made mistakes and seen the consequences. The main problem where my Mum is concerned would be establishing a clear line of purpose and will. The problem is I am too close and emotionally caught up in the situation to think clearly.

On the plus side of life I had a great time in Venice recently. I have been there several times and always find it magical. I especially like it in Autumn and Winter when there are slightly fewer tourists and the tides are high enough for the canals to sometimes spill over. I know this is very bad for the foundations of the city and is a sign that the whole place is slowly sinking into the lagoon; but it is a unique experience to get from A to B over makeshift bridges made of benches. I also love the narrow streets of Venice on a misty night. There is nowhere else quite like it and you feel like you are walking through a silent time warp or another dimension altogether.

(The above picture is not my own; it comes from http://www.travelzip.co.uk/content/images/gondole_in_venice.jpg)

Another plus (in a way) is that I am a single girl again. Well, to be more precise, I am enjoying the benefits of being single without the guilt that comes from thinking I should stay loyal to a person I almost never see. I don’t think I am promiscuous (or ever really have been) but it does give you a lift to be able to go out in the evening knowing that there is the possibility of a  guiltless sexual adventure at the end of the night if you want it. And I have wanted it; and I have indulged myself a bit. But it is funny; when you have love but no sex you tend to get fixated on sex. Now that I can have sex pretty much when I want, I am getting fixated on love again. So while  I have had a couple of hugely enjoyable adventures that don’t make me feel at all guilty, they still leave me wanting something more.

So overall, I’m a bit mixed up at the moment, and finding it hard to focus.

And for a witch the ability to focus is pretty important.

http://www.registerguard.com/csp/cms/sites/web/opinion/23769364-47/story.csp

If I did that right, you should be able to read today’s editorial from The RegisterGuard about Solstice.  It’s very well done.  Worth the time to glance over it.  I always wonder about non-pagan people and where they think those holy days came from, like originally.  Probably they don’t care, they read it in their book and just figure “that’s that.”  Too bad.  History is actually fun, and very interesting.  Of course while we were all in school, we didn’t think so, but now we realize it’s fascinating.

[see The Roman Jews (1)]

A Millenary presence

There’s evidence of the millenary presence of the Jews in the city. Of the over 50 imperial Rome catacombs unveiled 6 are Jewish. At the end of the catacomb period a Jewish cemetery rose around Porta Portese. We also know of at least one synagogue in Ostia antica and of several in Trastevere.

The arch of Titus is also an indirect sign of presence. The Roman generals in triumph were usually followed by the captives in fetters, although on one arch panel we see only the head of the procession – though someone says it shows also prisoners – with the riches looted in Jerusalem, among which the seven-branched menorah.

The Menorah carved on the Arch of Titus. Detail from a copy of the original arch panel. Click for larger picture and credits

By the way, where is the splendid gold menorah gone? Oh so many speculations and legends flourished! [see Lanciani at the foot of the page]

From both Josephus and the panel we guess it was brought to Rome, then possibly kept in the Temple of Peace until the Vandals stole it in 455 AD.

One legend is told by Giggi Zanazzo (1860 -1911), our source on Roman culture written in dialect:

“The candelabrum we see carved under the arch of Titus was all in gold and was brought by the ancient Romans to Rome from Jerusalem, when this city was sacked and burned by them. It is said some turmoil occurred and they came to blows when someone tried to steal it. Since they happened to pass over the Quattro Capi bridge [pons Fabricius - see below - the most ancient bridge surviving, built in 62 BC] it was thrown into the river so nobody had it and the water is now enjoying it.”

Pons Fabricius, also called Quattro Capi, is the most ancient bridge in Rome (62 BC.) It connects the Tiber Island with the Jewish ghetto. Click for credits

It was said that under Pope Benedict XIV (1740-1758) the Jews asked permission to drain the river at their own expense, but the Pope refused fearing that stirring up the mud would generate the plague [Lanciani.]

Did the Jews live so long with the Romans that some paganism brushed on them? Zanazzo writes that the Holy Mary was evoked in ways that remind me of Juno Lucina, the Roman goddess of childbirth:

“When the Jewish women are about to give birth, during the hardest labour pains, in order for their childbirth to be successful, they ask our Madonna for help. When all is finished quickly and well they get a broom and sweep the floor saying: “Fora, Maria de li Cristiani (out, Mary of the Christians).”

4th century AD. The Tiber Island with pons Fabricius leading to the left bank and the D-shaped theatre of Marcellus. Behind, the Porticus Octaviae

From the right to the left bank

Since they had arrived to Rome the Jews had mainly lived on the right bank of the Tiber, in the Transtiberine district, where the harbour was.

After Christianity split into Protestants and Catholics (from the 16th century on) and an epoch of religious fanaticism began, the Jews were forced to settle down on the left river side, in a district called rione S. Angelo [see above the area at the times of emperor Constantine; see below as it is today.]

On the 14th of July 1555 Pope Paul IV issued a Bull that cancelled all the rights of the Jews and segregated them in a walled area, il Serraglio delli Hebrei, as it was called (i.e. the ghetto,) an unhealthy place subject to floods and too small for its inhabitants.

The Fabricius bridge leading from the Tiber island to left bank and the ghetto (rione S. Angelo) with its synagogue. Click for credits and larger pict

The Ghetto: ‘Condemned For Their Fault’

Heavy gates were kept open only from sunrise till sunset.

The Bull Cum nimis absurdum took its name from its first words. It decreed that the Jews had to be separated from the rest ‘through their own fault’ [Latin, propria culpa]:

“Since it is absurd and utterly inconvenient that the Jews, who through their own fault [e.g. having caused the death of Christ] were condemned by God to eternal slavery, have access to our society and even may live among us [...] we ordain that for the rest of time [...] all Jews are to live in only one [quarter] to which there is only one entrance and from which there is but one exit.”

The Bull encouraged the creation of walled ghettos in Italy and elsewhere in Europe.

More than 3 centuries later part of the Roman ghetto was demolished after Italy’s unity in 1870. Among the disappeared places was via Rua, where the most prominent Jewish families lived.

Well, if this was a sort of main street, one has an idea of the poverty of the entire place! Look at this watercolour by Ettore Roesler Franz (ca 1880 .)

Tormented Cohabitation

The Jewish obstinacy in keeping their own traditions increased the mistrust of the Christians. Constrained since centuries to be second rate traders, they were additionally impoverished by segregation, which added to the idea that God had punished them. All this favoured humiliation and violence.

“The men had to wear a yellow cloth (the “sciamanno”)- we read in the Wiki – and the women a yellow veil (the same colour worn by prostitutes). During the feasts they had to amuse the Christians, competing in humiliating games. They had to run naked, with a rope around the neck, or with their legs closed into sacks. […] Every Saturday, the Jewish community was forced to hear compulsory sermons in front of the small church of San Gregorio a Ponte Quattro Capi, just outside the wall.”

We have to say that strictness in Rome is always tempered by laxity and bits of good-nature. The yellow colour became often indistinguishable, some covert movements were possible, hate and mistrust were not seldom replaced by solidarity. Moreover the Roman people, popes included, needed the arts of the Jews -  the astrology & medicine they had learned from the Arabs, and their trade skills.

There were never pogroms in the city, like elsewhere in Europe. And never the Jews were tempted by another diaspora.

In short, they were tolerated. So they remained in Rome.

The Roman Jewish ghetto in October 2004. Click to enlarge and for credits

Ψ

Note. For an in-depth analysis of the Jews’ presence in ancient Rome see the 6th chapter from the splendid Rodolfo Lanciani’s New Tales Of Old Rome (1901) [full text].

[In the next and last chapter: 'That terrible night in October 1943'. The delicacies of the Roman-Jewish cuisine.]

I have seen a number of discussions on Pagan Internet forums about whether the Gods can travel. Suggesting that the old British Pagan Gods are tribal and therefore linked solely to a particular piece of land. The most obvious being Herne with Windsor forest and Ceridwen with Lake Bala in Wales.

Since I’ve been here in Australia I’ve been open to this idea. As we’ve travelled the land I’ve been receptive to the spiritual energy of this Singing Land, asking it to share itself with me, to tell me it’s stories. The voices I’ve heard have been beautiful, awesome, but also familiar.

When we stood in the Bush surrounded by huge gum trees I heard the voices of the land and

the Woodland Spirit. When I stood with my feet in the warm ocean the Ancestral Spirit of the Sea sung me its song. It has been an honour to hear them, and the thing that struck me is that, even so far from home, the Spirits of Woodland and Ocean had the same voices as Herne and Manawydan.

It’s obvious really. There is no seperation between the water I paddled in here in Australia and the English Channel other than the human construct of name – it is the same water. The land I walk upon is the same Earth merely

separated by that water mass. Of course the Woodland Spirit of Australia would feel like the Woodland Spirit of Britain.

As I spoke to the Bush and the Sea I heard familiar voices reply

to me. The same voices I speak to in the UK, just with different names. Our Pagan Gods don’t operate by our imposed regulations. They don’t need to make a 22 hour journey to Australia. All we need to do is be open and listen to the Land. So for me the discussion of whether the Gods travel is answered with a quite obvious ‘they dont need to, they live here already!’.

Dear Witchful Thinking,

I practice solo, what are the advantages of joining a coven, do you know how to get in touch with other locals?

Thanks!

I. Seeker

Dear Seeker,

Ah, the coven! A place where Pagans can get together, learn, worship, and practice magic.

There are many advantages to joining a coven:

• Fellowship of like-minded people.
• A single path to focus your energy on.
• A place to hone your skills and get personal teaching.
• Incredible love and family energy.
• Something social to do.
• Work towards larger projects and goals.
• Teach and train others.
• Gain credibility and status.

On the other hand, there could be some downsides:

• Politics, gossiping and favoritism.
• Hierarchy and structure.
• Crappy teachers.
• Poorly-thought-through magic and ritual.
• Hazing, harassment, hexing.
• Sexual tension.
• No formed group mind.
• Lousy leadership.

Of course, not all covens have these kinds of problems. Any time you get any group of people together for any purpose, these kinds of things might happen. Perhaps it sticks out more so in the Pagan community because we are so vulnerable: we want to be open to new experiences, but sometimes forget to take our brains with us. Most likely, a real coven will have a mix of these good things and bad things.

Some advice about choosing a coven:

• Take your time: You are picking family and a religion at the same time. Many covens have a “year and a day” course or public rituals they do to evaluate potential new members. It’s worth it to try each other out and to be honest if you don’t think it will meet your needs.
• Identify what your needs are: For me, the Celtic Gods don’t respond, so I’m not likely to do well in a coven that focuses on the Gods of Britian and Wales! Do you need a family-friendly group? How available are you to meet regularly? Do you need formal training or do you have skills you can offer?
• All covens are unique and different from each other because they are made up of people. Ask yourself what makes you a good coven member. Why would the coven want you?
• Some groups practice “alternative” lifestyles such as polyamory, BDSM or require certain rituals such as tattooing. If you don’t wholeheartedly agree with what the coven is doing, you need to re-evaluate your membership.
• Most covens don’t advertise. Likely it is word of mouth. You may receive an invitation to join a group, or might have a friend who is involved. It’s often just like a family: you don’t just join, you are married or born in.
• If you can’t find a coven you like, start your own. Ask some friends to join you, and be ready to be committed! Start with what you know and work with your initial covenmates to create rituals and tradition. It’s just as legitimate as any other coven. You can learn as you go and there are some excellent resources out there to help you. (We can talk about this more in another post!)

The best way to find a coven is to go where there are lots of Pagans, like a festival, or a showcase event like Concentric Circles run by OLOTEAS. Witchvox has excellent group pages, although many groups go dead before they can really get going. Find a group with an open circle. Your local Pagan and Occult supply shop often becomes the meeting place for groups and open rituals, so check them out.

After you start going to the local festivals, you’ll start making friends. Ask around the community. Network. If you read a book by an author you like who lives near you, consider writing them and asking for more info about their coven. Many authors like Silver Ravenwolf, Laurie Cabot and Starhawk head covens in their local areas.

Can’t find a real life group? Consider online training. At least you’ll meet and work with people virtually. Consider Amber K’s school. Or the ATC’s theological seminary. Or Cherry Hill’s distance learning masters programs. Or Oberon Zell’s Grey School of Wizardry, if that is your flavor.

And remember: take your time. Find the right one. This decision is too important. Give it your real thought and attention.

Some helpful books:

Celebrating Times of Change: A Wiccan Book of Shadows for Family and Coven Growth by Stanley J. A. Modrzyk

L.A. Witch: Fiona Horne’s Guide to Coven Magick by Fiona Horne

Spellworking for Covens: Magick for Two or More by Edain McCoy

Coven Craft: Witchcraft for Three or More by Amber K

Ever have a martyr insistently try to be a martyr for you even though you insist that they not be? You repeatedly go to do something and find that they did it for you without consulting you and they want praise for it? You keep finding that you are deadended in your goals because they head you off to “make it easier”. After time, however, the martyrs eventually become beligerent because you don’t really understand how much they have done and have been doing for you.

I have been ruminating lately on the subject of martyrs, what it really means in various arenas, including psychology. I have come to the conclusion for myself that these types of martyrs use it for control. The martyr psychology is similar to the victim psychology except that in the martyr psychology, the person’s victim identity is self-imposed and can be used as a tool to control others while being “out of control” of oneself. I wonder if they realize that they are making others their victims by imposing their martyr psychology on those who never asked or wanted it?

At one time or another we have all been on the giving and the receiving end of the martyr psychology. Martyr actually comes from a Greek root word that means “to witness”. In later terms, it became associated with “to suffer for a cause.” So which definition do we choose to have in our lives?

For the first, do we witness and move on? How long do we witness?

If we have chosen the second, then why do we feel the suffering necessary? And the biggest question of all, what is the cause? Is it a firm conviction or a compulsion?

mar•tyr (märtr)

NOUN:

1. One who chooses to suffer death rather than renounce religious principles.
2. One who makes great sacrifices or suffers much in order to further a belief, cause, or principle.
3. One who endures great suffering: a martyr to arthritis.
4. One who makes a great show of suffering in order to arouse sympathy.

——————————————————————————–
ETYMOLOGY:
Middle English, from Old English, from Late Latin, from Late Greek martur, from Greek martus, martur-, witness
http://education.yahoo.com/reference/dictionary/entry/martyr

In its original meaning, the word martyr, meaning witness, was used in the secular sphere as well as in both the Old Testament and the New Testament of the Bible.[1] The process of bearing witness was not intended to lead to the death of the witness, although it is known from ancient writers (e.g. Josephus) that witnesses, especially of the lower classes, were tortured routinely before being interrogated as a means of forcing them to disclose the truth.

During the early Christian centuries, the term acquired the extended meaning of a believer who is called to witness for their religious belief, and on account of this witness, endures suffering and/or death. The term, in this later sense, entered the English language as a loanword. The death of a martyr or the value attributed to it is called martyrdom.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martyr

In psychology, a person who has a martyr complex, sometimes associated with the term victim complex, desires the feeling of being a martyr for his/her own sake, seeking out suffering or persecution because it feeds a psychological need.

Yesterday I had the uncomfortable “pleasure” of sitting in an art class with a born-again Christian. This woman has had a tough life, and I can see that Christianity has become the crutch she needs to hobble through life, and I have no intention of criticising her for that. We do what we do to survive.

I made no mention of the fact that I am pagan. She and another member were talking about Christmas and Jesus. This year I feel so distanced from Christmas both in any religious and commercial sense that I am continually shocked to remember that other people are gearing up for Christmas. It means absolutely nothing to me. I have no happy memories of families gathered round a tree, or of religious admonitions to bring good cheer and “be good”. Other years I might have still enjoyed the decorations and the carols, but this year it leaves me untouched; not in any cold-hearted, depressed way, but more in an “I’ve moved on” kind of way. I am more excited by the prospect of a full or new moon, by seeing the flood down by the river or the way the air seems to turn yellowy brown just before a storm hits.

I’ve been watching people scurry around doing their shopping, clocking up consumerist points to prove they care about the people on their ever-expanding lists. And the rest of the year? So little consistency, so much emotional hypocrisy (and no, pagans are not immune to such hypocrisy – at this time of year you see the residual Christian in many pagans as they scurry around kowtowing to the Jesus of Christmas past).

So, has it just become a social festival? A consumerist fest of gluttony and expenditure? It annoys and saddens me to see people taking out loans “to spread the cost of Christmas”. What’s so compulsive and socially dictatorial about Christmas that you should get in debt for it at all? Ridiculous.

No. Christmas in every sense will pass me by. If I have gifts to give, I give them at any time of the year. If there is food to be eaten, I will eat it when hungry, and if I wish to bask in the affections of my friends, I won’t wait until the adverts on TV tell me it’s time to do so.

Here’s looking to the solstice! To clear nights with sparkling stars. To frost and sleet. To floods and getting soaked walking in the rain. Here’s to mud and puddles, leaves and berries. Warm fires and hot cups of tea. Merry Winter!

©Tattooed Witch 2009

Wow. Great movie, just for the simple fact that someone was capable of making a film without stupid things jumping out at you like those youtube shockers and things of that nature (we’ve all encountered the maze or color test I’m sure)

This has by far been one of the best paranormal movies I think I have ever seen. It’s no wonder this $25,000.00 budget movie made uber millions! This movie takes you through a view of the other side, which if you’ve never experienced a paranormal event, it gives you a pretty good idea of what types of things you could expect. Footsteps, scratching, knocking,  inhuman breathing through EVP (electronic voice phenomenon). I have heard of people being disappointed in this movie and that is probably due to the fact that they’re so used to having something leap out at you with some wacky film effects and lots of LFE going on.

Paranormal Activity gets a 5/5 in my movie rating book for thrills and suspense. This movie exemplifies how a paranormal thriller should be! Honestly, I did not even want to look at my monitor in full screen because I was completely suspecting some wild looking demonic figure to just pop out in front of the camera to make me have to put on my Depends =P.

The boyfriend however was a serious douche who just made everything worse, to all you kids out there interested in playing with a Ouija board or spirit board, DON’T DO IT! Take it from someone who has had numerous paranormal events in his life and has certain abilities. Pissing off an inhuman is definitely something you do not want to do….The ending was a disappointment to a point, I wish they wouldn’t have shot Katie at the end, I know that’s kinda the point, but still, could have made it longer and shown the after effects and stuff, ah well, I just know what I would’ve liked to have seen ending-wise.

Feel free to leave your comments!

Josh

… The Witch of the Forest Grove called 101 Syndrome. Please read her entry first before carrying on here so what I will write makes sense to you.

I hold my hand up high and admit that I am one of those people trapped or surrounded by 101 books knowing fully well that they don’t get me were I want to go. Did you read the part where I said: were I want to go???? I don’t see a problem with 101 books if that is what fulfills your spiritual path and need. End off! For me, I have been running in circles for quite some time, but still carry on buying 101 books hoping for the next step on my path which never comes. Somehow staying in my comfort zone instead of broadening my horizon by venturing into the deep.    

The funny thing is that I have got two of the books mentioned on Sarah’s list for quite sometime, but I am honest to say that I have not read them yet. The Golden Bough fell into my hand a couple of months ago when I went to our local library. I am waiting for the White Goddess to be returned, but so far no luck. When looking around I found the Golden Bough in th same area, grabbed it and what do you know, it is a withdrawal that I can keep. Woo Hoo! Since then it is standing on my shelf gathering dust. Well, like so many others, but their time will come.

I I awoke in the middle of the night to the sounds of a violent gale and torrential rain. I was drawn out of sleep just at the moment when the strength of the wind and the heaviness of the rain intensified alarmingly. The house rattled and as the noise built I realised that I was holding my breath, waiting for the gust to peak and die back. It didn’t, it just kept on building in strength and ferocity. For one moment, in that disorientating suspension between sleep and wakefulness – the darkness and the cacophony the only reality I was fully aware of – I felt afraid.  

As Pagans, we honour nature in all its forms; the beauty and the terror all have their place and deeper meaning and function, some of which might be at odds with our own sense of safety and happiness or comfort. There is nothing quite like an encounter with nature at it most powerfully raw to connect us to our vulnerability and frailness as humans. It can be an uncomfortable feeling because we might want to embrace the Divine as a loving and benevolent force and such violent upheaval might contradict our notions of such. For me, it all depends on your definition of love and benevolence. I always feel quite comforted that what might appear to human beings as destruction, earth quakes for instance, on a wider scale can be seen as merely the earth stretching and moving like me on my yoga mat, trying to keep the whole flowing and functioning in the most balanced way possible! Sometimes it can bring us up short to realise we are not at the centre of things.

The most intimate and scariest moment that I have experienced with wild weather was a close encounter with lightning in Cornwall. I have always loved thunder storms. A favourite thing as a child was to be wrapped up cosy and safe in bed while the sky roared and brightened. I was actually born during a thunder storm (which might explain a lot!), coming in with a flash and a bang (hope to go out that way too!). I have many great thunder and lightning memories but none as dramatic as my Cornwall happening.

Laurie and I were visiting Duloe which is home to the smallest stone circle in Cornwall. The sky was already starting to look angry and there were rumbles of thunder coming from over Bodmin Moor. The cloud formations were incredibly striking; strata of varying shades of grey, from pale to dark, the patterning giving the sky a hyper-real edge. The air felt ominously still.

Laurie very sensibly decided to return to the car, leaving me alone in the stones. I was very happy, singing to the stones and some rather puzzled looking sheep – there is something quite moving about singing in stone circles! As I sang I became aware that the storm was moving in across the village. The rain had started to gently fall and I became mesmerised by lightning coming to ground, moving across the fields towards me. At that moment, it was possible to perceive the storm as a living presence. As the rain got heavier, I said my farewell to the stones and the sheep and made my way back across the field to the little tree-lined track that would take me to the road. By the time I reached there, the rain was very heavy and so I stood beneath a maple by the field gate. It leaves became burdened by the weight of the rain and it began to drip over me. I moved a few feet down beneath a hawthorn whose smaller leaves seem to create a better shelter from the wet. I didn’t even think for one moment that traditionally the hawthorn is meant to protect against lightning strike!

The rain was by now monsoon-like and I could smell a strange and powerful odour. I had no idea that this was ozone, that the earth was sending up a path for the lightning to travel down to her – a sort of love call; a call to union from the earth mother to the sky father – and I was stood right next to the intended contact point!

The lightning strike and the thunder clap happened at exactly the same time. I have never heard such deafeningly loud thunder – before or since – it was right above me, all around me, felt in every fibre of my body. The lightning hit what I thought to be the maple I had just been standing beneath (but was in fact, on later inspection, the telegraph pole next to it), no more than ten feet away from me. It hit with an equally deafening snapping, cracking sound. My body took over and I ran. It has to be said I am a crap runner but that day I was positively gazelle-like! Running felt like no effort whatsoever. My senses were sharp, acutely aware of the flood of water rushing down the road, the beat of my own heart and the alarms in the church hall, triggered into action by the enormous clap of thunder. My adrenalin was up for hours – poor Laurie had to put up with me rambling incoherently all the way to Falmouth!

It was an awe-inspiring experience, frightening yet incredible. It had a profound effect upon me to have been so intimate with such a vast elemental power of nature, and me, so small and vulnerable in its presence. I clearly felt the thunder and lightning as a vast being that day, an irrepressible energy that I was extremely privileged to have witnessed at close hand without harm to myself; a strange but wonderful gift.

Two gods of thunder whom I feel affection for are the Celtic Taranis and the Norse Thor, both being linked to the fertility of the earth and abundance. It feels very magical to me that lightning actually fertilising the ground that it touches, clearing and freshening the air. Despite the danger inherent in the power of the thunder deities, when we open to their spiritual potential, we can find that their thunder resounds in our hearts as strength; their lightning illuminates our minds with inspiration and their fruitful rain brings spiritual growth and a rich and abundant life – all worth the bit of knee trembling and heart racing that their presence might stir in us.

There is a wonderful poem by Wilfred Owen called ‘Storm’. It is actually about the taboo of a man’s love for another man but I have often thought that it reminds me of my own love of deity and the facing of my own fears with regard to that relationship. The thunder gods can change us in quite sudden and violent ways; they can fry our circuits but they can enrich us, illumine us, fertilise our spirits if we respect their awesome energy and face our fears honestly. If we can be a little like the earth and send up a path for the thunder god’s inspiration to travel down, the land of our being will find itself richer for the blessing..

Storm 

His face was charged with beauty as a cloud

With glimmering lightning. When it shadowed me

I shook, and was uneasy as a tree

That draws the brilliant danger, tremulous, bowed.

So must I tempt that face to loose it lightning.

Great gods, whose beauty is death, will laugh above,

Who made his beauty lovelier than love.

I shall be bright with their unearthly brightening.

And happier were it if my sap consume;

Glorious will shine the opening of my heart;

The land shall freshen that was under gloom;

What matter if all men cry aloud and start,

And women hide bleak faces in their shawl,

At those hilarious thunders of my fall?

                                     Wilfred Owen.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.

God does not give us a list of Christian holidays to celebrate, although holiday is a contraction of holy day.

God gave Israel holy days, weeks, months, even seasons and years. He has not commanded these for His people today. In fact, some actually believe it is wrong to celebrate any holy day. Jehovah’s Witnesses also eschew personal holidays, such as birthdays and (I assume) anniversaries. Those who reject celebratory days do this because they think these come from Paganism and that we revert to Pagan practice when even perfunctorily performing such remembrances.

Thanksgiving, though, is different.

You may argue that Christmas was originally a feast of Saturn, and we adopt a pagan holiday if we remember the birth of Jesus then. I fail to see how I become a Pagan by remembering Jesus’ birth, but some do so argue.

You may argue similarly about Easter, but I find that hard to accept as well.

The national holidays, such as Independence Day or Memorial Day, are different. These celebrate national freedoms. They almost deify (in some minds) the memory of those who have died in the service of our country – and exalt the country so much we tend to think of it more highly than we ought to think.

I love my country. I am glad that I am a citizen of the United States of America, though I am not proud of all my government does at home or abroad. Nor do I glory in things my fellow-citizens do in the name of freedom. I believe the USA has many problems, including hubris and inordinate pride.

Yet, freedom is a good thing. Jesus spoke of truth making us free when we continue in His word (John 8:32). He spoke of spiritual freedom, not political – but political freedom is, in my mind anyway, an extension of the freedom we have in Christ.

Thanksgiving, though, is different.

While other national holidays – Labor Day, Independence Day, Memorial Day, Veterans Day, Flag Day, President’s Day, Martin Luther King Day, and such like – celebrate Us and our achievements, Thanksgiving celebrates God.

It is a day for humility and gratitude. You cannot be truly grateful without humility. Without humility, you think you have good things because you deserve them.

Thanksgiving has its roots in agriculture. There, man is closer to God. Man can prepare soil, plant seed, cultivate his fields, and irrigate the land – but God gives the increase. This is true of work in a factory, but is not as apparent to those working there. In factory work, we easily think we are producing the final product, forgetting God gives us the power to get wealth.

A talk-show host I used to listen to in Detroit was a confirmed atheist. He said once he loved Thanksgiving as a celebration of Man’s productivity. When I heard that, I remembered something I heard in my youth: “An atheist’s most perplexing time is when he feels profoundly grateful – and does not know who to thank!” There are some, who do not know God, who do not appreciate the true spirit of Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving is different from other holidays – because it alone calls us to humility and gratitude without the myths that surround Christmas and Easter. Those myths present a contrary, highly secular story that competes with the Christian story of those holidays. Santa and the Easter Rabbit compete with Jesus for our affection and that of our children.

The Thanksgiving story, the story of the Pilgrims, is a story of heroism and faith in God. While many want to take God from that story, they do so only by being false, incomplete historians. No, I do not believe the Pilgrims were perfect. Yet, I admire them for their faith in God and their perseverance through unimaginable trials. We still need that spirit in our nation today – and in our churches today.

In the final analysis, I love Thanksgiving, not because of the feasting or the football, but because of what the day itself symbolizes. We should repeat Thanksgiving every day of the year.  Every day we should seriously thank God for all He gives us, especially for His unending love and the gift of His Son.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

I keep banging on about the fact that you don’t need to buy any tools to walk the path, but then again, these are not tools but little treats. As you might have guessed, this is more work of the talented Carolina Gonzalez.

This lady is Called Santisima Muerte and is a Holy Death Altar Doll. For more information on this lovely lady please refer to Carolina’s site here

And to round it off I also bought a print of one of her original drawings called The Horned Goddess. More of her work can be found at The Hoodoo Shop

For now this is my little set-up in the bedroom away from prying eyes. It is not set in stone but always changing depending on what I find. This can be bought, made or found in nature like all the stones that you can see on the bottom shelf. Although, if I carry on like this it will end up as Carolina Gonzales shrine to her work before you get the wrong idea .     

I am watching my family from the balcony while they are flying a kite. They take their turn to play with it before it hits the ground (mainly for my daughter).

The weather this week has been an extreme up and down from days like spring to stormy days for kites. Now heavy rain is hammering against the house leaving behind a rice field in the garden.

I survived yesterdays party and tried to make an effort to at least sit with some of the others. Luckily the music and kids were to loud so I just read one of the magazines lying around. I am sure the next party will follow soon .

Otherwise not much has been happening. Santisima Muerte moved in this week , but more about that for a later entry. Also for a later entry, I would like to start a category called ~ Back to Basics ~ and who knows, maybe some of the blog readers will participate.  

About a year ago I was contacted by an Australian Pagan folk band called Spiral Dance who wanted to cover my song Spirit of Albion. I was very touched that they’d even asked and of course said yes and asked if they’d send me a copy if they ever recorded it. A year later I’m near Adelaide in Mclaren Vale at a venue called the Singing Gallery, a converted church, playing at a concert organised by the band.

We arrived at 5pm ready for a soundcheck and the band were there setting up. I love playing in churches – the acoustics are always amazing. The owners had done a really great job converting it into a music venue. The place was set out with reserved tables where people were going to bring along their picnics and bottles of wine (the venue charged a ‘corkage fee’ but you could bring all your own booze and food).

Spiral Dance are a great band. They remind me of early Steeleye Span. During the

soundcheck they played some of their version of Spirit of Albion so I could hear it. The idea was that I join them onstage during their set when they played it.

People started to arrive around 7.30 and the place was packed and buzzing by 8 when I was due to take the stage. I’ve noticed at each of the gigs I’ve played here that, before anything else happens, there is an aknowledgement that this concert is taking place on the land of the original tribal peoples of Australia – a small but heartfelt ancestral honouring. Adrienne then took the stage to introduce me. I was a little bit nervous to be honest, but I needn’t have been. We were all together from the opening chord of Song of Awen. The band’s sound engineer was great and there was a fabulous sound front stage. I noticed a few people videoing the gig so I hope they’ll end up on

YouTube sometime (there are a few there already!). The balance of the sound on stage was perfect and I could also hear the audience singing along over the sound of my guitar and voice. I played for an hour, mostly songs from my first four albums (it’s getting harder and harder to play for an hour and still fit in all of the songs I want to play!) but ended the set with Wild Mountain Thyme from Tales from the Crow Man which even here everyone seemed to know. The standing ovation at the end of the concert was wonderful – another wonderful evening with lovely people!

After a short break Spiral Dance took the stage. They are a great live band with a lot of energy – they are like an Aussie The Dolmen but more folky. They did a great version of Span’s classic Bedlam Boys and two of the

band even burst through the doors backstage and did some Morris Dancing! Great stuff. Adrienne then told the story of how she’d first heard Spirit of Albion whilst at a Pagan festival in the USA. She asked the people who had been playing it who wrote the song and then found me through the Internet, posting me that first email. It was amazing to join them on stage to play the song (this is one of the vids on YouTube). They have added a very different rhythm to it and then have a ‘diddly’ folk burst halfway through. I loved singing with them.

At the end of their set I was invited up onstage again to singing The Burning Times with them. It’s not a song I usually like but they’d done some very spiritual work on the arrangement and the audience did a spiral dance and ended in a beautiful oval of people. Man it’s so good to be a part if this global Pagan community!

After Spiral Dance’s set I was invited to play a few more tunes. So as they’d already been dancing I thought I’d keep that vibe going with Lughnasadh, Lughnasadh Dance and Hal an Tow. Much hugging and chat followed until gradually people began to wend their way back home. Me? Well, I was buzzing and to be honest everytime I think of that concert I still am!