Spring will officially arrive March 20, 2013 around 7:00 a.m. here, on that day there will be equal light and darkness. I think this is something to celebrate!
All of you here at the portal probably know by now that our fearless leader “Ralphie” has faced many challenges while living on the streets for the better part of the last eight years. If you do not know, please read his literary offerings in “Streetlife” featured in the menu at the top of the homepage here.
My husband and I, our friends and our family are currently delighting in his company until March 11, 2013, (as long as we legally can do so on a visitors visa) We are richly blessed by his warmth, his kindness, his brilliant wit, his spirituality, his earnestness, his wisdom, his personal grace and his optimism. We are concerned however that he must leave in March and as far as we know, he must return to the streets. This causes us great concern of course for to know Ralphie is to love him, he’s the real deal folks. So I am making a plea that if anyone (in Spain, he will arrive at Barcelona airport 3/11/13) or ANYWHERE ELSE that he can access transportation to, he is open minded you know…knows of available employment, (he’s brilliant and adaptable to nearly any situation) or can offer temporary housing, or has a need for a caring, honest, trustworthy, kind, sober and sane house-sitter, animal companion, (he’s wildly popular with our rescue animals and personal pets) or property management or any other position that includes temporary lodging and some type of modest wage for his simple living expenses please speak up! Ralphie speaks six languages too and he has loads of clerical work experience! If you can help our Ralphie PLEASE notify him here asap.
I am also pleased to tell you that since Ralphie arrived on December 13th, he has gained 11 pounds! He’s looking wonderful!!
Just remember that anyone can suffer losses and tragedies and miscalculations that could land us on the street just like our dear Ralphie. Please get the word out to people that you know and perhaps if we all lift him up with love and care and prayer, he can get back on his feet soon.
Do no harm, and feel no doubt
That never will you live without
By earth, by air, by water, fire and spirit
Be open to love and do not fear it!
PS….Replace my photo with yours of course~
Sunrise weeping, wails and moans
Ancestors sleeping, graves and stones
Christmas with them, gifts all done
Flowers, wreaths, laid one by one
Where are they now, what would they say
To see me at their graves today?
I know I felt them smiling down
Angels watching all around~
Within the heart of the frosted forest
The Winter God is keen and raw
Pursuing warmth and hope.
The Goddess is romancing
chanting, dancing, glowing
The child, the Sun, swaddled in radiance
Bringer of life, nourishment, comfort and joy!
In the stillness, death is conquered
Let us be merry and kind
Shine upon us weary souls of woe
Your light, your mercy, and your love!
When I was a small child I often attended a tiny country church with my Granny Fanny Weaver. My Granny Fanny was OLD and she wasn’t a softy kind of Granny like I am, Fanny Weaver was a small stern woman with eyes as serious and cool as blue steel. In other words, I didn’t mess with Granny Fanny much, especially not in church during Sunday preachin’.
I would listen to the “preachin'” the best I could, but, most of what was being said struck me as boring old people stuff, so I shifted… and I wiggled. Mom made me wear fancy little church dresses with stiff angry netted petticoats and white lacy socks and little black patent leather shoes, and I will never forget how those benches were so cold and hard on my bony behind.
The old preacher preached his sermon in that wind-ed kind of way that aging Appalachian preachers do. It’s difficult to explain how he sounded, but he would wheeze at the end of each thought…he chopped off his sentences with a word that sounded like “and-ha!” but with angry growling undertones, then his fist would strike the pulpit to fiercely sharpen his point. This was all sort of frightening to watch and to listen to as a four, five, and six year old child but I endured, in the sad way that little children with no freedom of choice must endure.
Preacher Courts was very distressed about souls going to hell, (where was hell, I did not know but it was somewhere that was very hot and very mean) I did NOT want to go there for sure!
There WAS one thing that caught my attention and that was when the preacher was talking about “angels unaware.” You see, those were angels that were sent down from heaven to test people. I liked angels, I enjoyed coloring angels in Sunday school with pink and yellow crayons. Angels were always floating in blue skies right above someone who looked sick or scared or sad or lonely, those beautiful angels looked so nice to me. I liked their pastel colored wings and their pretty faces…so different from the old mean looking red devil images. So when Preacher Courts talked about “Angels Unaware” I always perked right up because finally he was talking about something that I liked to think about. He told us that sometimes angels can look like real people, and when angels change from pretty winged beings into real people they are doing that just to see what kind of heart a person has, it’s a test from God. He explained that those angels always turn into people who look and sound like they need something that you have just enough of to share but angels won’t usually come right out and ask for what they need…you have to notice on your own and then do the right thing or you fail the test. That’s the whole point, you have to care enough about people to notice when they need something that you have to give.
So, fast forward 30 years…I’m driving down a long stretch of highway one evening in rural Louisiana. I was with a wild and crazy girlfriend and to be honest, we were speeding just a little, we were laughing and carrying on like we were highschool best pals on a joyride in our daddy’s pick up truck when we buzzed by a twisted little man who was walking with an obvious bend in his back, he appeared to have one leg longer than the other one because his gate was awkward and lopsided. He looked all confused too and his clothing was disheveled. As we drove by him, I felt something, well, really I felt all kinds of things but what stood out most was that he “FELT” oddly out of place to me.
The road wasn’t a busy road, in fact I don’t remember seeing any other cars for at least twenty miles in either direction that particular evening.
Now … what happened next gives me chills to this day. I slowed down and I looked at my friend and she looked at me and we both yelled out “He’s an Angel Unaware!” at the exact same instant.
The truly odd thing is that this individual was a brand new friend, someone I had just met, we had never talked about angels unaware or much else for that matter. She was from Chicago and she was extra special to me because she happened to be my very first ever black friend (this wasn’t a racial thing with me, I honestly had never met another black woman in my life before this lady, I come from the hills where the only skin color is white for miles and miles. She and I had met in a grocery store parking lot, she was new in town and I was new in town and we struck up an instant friendship that caught on like a house on fire, we were best friends in 15 minutes) So, when we both recognized that “he was an angel unaware” at the same instant…we both just knew it was true, it had to be true.
After we both yelled out “angel unaware” I swung that car around and we headed back to talk to that little twisted man because we both knew that he was an angel unaware sent from heaven to test us and we couldn’t fail him! We would help him, we would help him even if he didn’t want to be helped because that’s how it works..the test I mean..you have to HELP!
The highway was perfectly straight, no turn offs, no drive ways, no hills..just open flat farm land on both sides of the road for as far as the eye could see…we drove in utter silence now for we were on a sacred mission, we were going to find our shared “angel unaware” and we were going to help him!
We shook our heads as we drove past where we knew our angel should be and we kept on driving.. but, there was NO ONE walking on the side of the road, on either side, there were still no cars behind us or in front of us. It was as if we were the only people in the whole state of Louisiana. We pulled off of the road and sat in silence looking out of the car windows, in front of us, behind us, the car was so quiet, our two minds were silently racing.
We finally gave up and headed toward our original destination, but not without talking about our lost “angel unaware” We couldn’t understand where he could have gone?
We did what we had to do in town and headed back on the same highway, still looking for our angel. As the sun sank and night filled the car, we stopped talking and rode in silence.
Of course, I don’t know what we could have done to help that little twisted man other than to offer him a ride and maybe a fast food meal in town. I can still remember how alone he looked and how twisted his small body appeared as he gingerly inched those painful steps along the side of that long lonely highway. I can still hear the sound of our car whizzing by him, I can feel it all from his perspective and from my own impressions. I can yet feel the lifting of his dirty gray hair, feel the pain in his twisted legs and the aching bend in his mis-shapen back.
Of course, I still don’t know where he came from, or where he was going, or what ever happened to him. I do believe in angels unaware though.
Isn’t it strange the things that we remember on long sleepless nights, those singular impressions that rise up like bouquets of weary flowers in need of drink? Preacher Courts and Granny Fanny, those hard wooden benches, white angels with pink wings, black angels with yellow wings, long highways, a twisted little man, laughing girlfriends caught unaware, lifted or yanked from our giddiness, suspended somewhere between reality and divinity, on a mission to find an angel on a Louisiana highway. What were the odds that she and I would discover our angel unaware at the same instant?
In the years since I saw that twisted little angel, I have been the twisted little angel myself once or twice. I had no choice over my situation, I do know that much. Once I know that one of those “angels unaware” crowded me out of myself and he or she took over my body, it’s true. The kind person that helped me was a nun in the hospital when our precious daughter was passing from this life. You see, I hadn’t been able to eat for days and this frail little nun brought a big tray of donuts into our daughters room. She crept behind me and she touched me on the shoulder and said “Eat these” in the gentlest and softest voice. I remember taking the tray and eating those donuts until I was full. I don’t know how many donuts I ate. I didn’t taste them and I did taste them, now, how is that possible to taste and not taste? When I think of myself sitting there in that hushed room not even realizing how hungry I was, and I think of how that nun knew exactly what I needed even when I did not because I was all hollowed out and I couldn’t feel anything at all, not sadness, not loss, not even hunger, somehow she saw an angel unaware in me, and she wanted to pass the test.
I am grey, light and dark, blended well, strong as steel, grey
I am gray, silver lit, flashing lightening, bolts of flannel, grey
I am gray, rain on hills, winter dawn, snow in wind, grey
I am gray, not good or bad, not dark or light, today, I am grey
Dance away the dark times and welcome in the light
Sing the carols of Yuletide and bless this merry night
Burn the herbs of old times and bake a yellow cake
Get the crone her broom and dance for mercy’s sake
Draw next to your loved ones, and spark the fires of oak
Bless the house and kinfolk with spicy scented smoke
I wish that we could have stayed as pure as we were then
I wish our hearts were lighter and love was ’round the bend
I wish there was a lullaby that would sing our souls to sleep
I wish there was a wizard to bless us souls that weep
I wish that things were easier and life was always kind
I wish that there was hope to satisfy the mind
I wish that there was peace in every scary place
I wish that there was healing for every worried face
I wish there was compassion and mercy knew no end
I wish there was forgiveness for every former friend
Child with no toy, girl with no boy
All hope is gone and so is their joy
What would it take to dust off your fear?
Get off of your couch and smile with good cheer?
Walk down the road and open the gate
Morning or night, it’s not yet too late
Offer your ear and listen a spell
Embrace your neighbors and wish them all well
Laugh at their jokes and tell your own too
Share and be merry, become warm and true
Don’t fret that gift that you cannot buy
Visit and comfort, give THAT a try
Like it or not, we are being transformed with every dawn. We become the choices that we make, we have responsibilities, to ourselves…. because we are naturally inspired to bend toward the light…we are becoming infused with nature’s elegance with each sunrise. Bright is the season of darkness as we tilt easily toward the return of the light.
Have a blessed Winter Solstice; we are love and light, one and all.
Since human beings are not designed to remain in a perpetual state of physical, spiritual and emotional arousal, we must consider the art of renewable passion. This is a craft that must be practiced and honed, nurtured and studied. Nothing precious ever magickally appears to us without a measure of devotional sacrifice. To believe so is to believe in fairy tales. While fairy tales are pretty and they feel really good, sadly, they are never quite “true” are they?
Most of us feel the desire to attract a “romance” rooted soul mate, that one lover in all of the universe that will love us forever without conditions or terms. That one soul that will forgive us for our tragic humanity and look the other way when we aren’t beautiful or loving or patient or yeilding.
We know that this is possible because most of us have witnessed a kind old couple or two in our own lifetimes that appear to have faithfully and passionately loved one another for sixty or seventy years. We’ve seen them laugh and cry together year after year, through joyous markers and through personal tragedy, and we ask ourselves, “How has their love managed to endure this life?”
We have noted that their eyes light up and their voices soften when their beloved one enters the room. If we are sensitive enough and we posess the ability to “see” energies, we can not only feel their love for one another, but we can actually visualize the strength of their bond as a forceful circle of sacred fire around them. We feel ourselves moving closer to them, drawn to their magick, we want to somehow warm ourselves by the heat and power of their magickal union.
We ask ourselves, “What secret have they discovered? Will they share it, are there words for it, how would we ask, and if we asked, would they pass a knowing smile and make us work it out for ourselves? After all, isn’t shared love as unique as souls, as fingerprints, as faces?”
How can two people remain in passionate love and yet remain in a constant state of change and evolution? Aren’t we all different than we were twenty years ago, haven’t our tastes changed, haven’t our interests changed, haven’t several of our closest one time “BEST” friends fallen by the wayside and new friends stepped into those hallowed places in our hearts, aren’t lovers the same? Don’t we grow out of one another at some point? Is the secret to longevity to simply be tolerant of the other and refuse to part ways, to dig our toes in and hang in there until we die, miserable or not? Is the secret of an enduring coupling rooted in determination and resignation alone? Surely not, or surely not always? What would account for that pure unmistakeable love that is ever shining in those elder couple’s eyes after decades together?
I am no sage, I am not a miracle worker either. I don’t claim to stir up a magickal elixer that will create a dumbstruck lover that will serve and please anyone for a lifetime, that isn’t possible in the craft that I practice. I work with energy, not two dollar potients and charms. I don’t tout anything that will make love magickally last forever, you have to cast that circle, and stir that cauldron for yourselves.
I only know of one formula that might do the trick and that formula is something I will call “renewable passion” and it’s based on one honest principal, which is born of an exotic blend of shared compassion, shared forgivness, shared kindness and shared desire. The four elements of lasting love as I see it.
There is no hooey capable of the craft of creating a sacred fire field around the joining of two souls. I do believe that if you look into your lovers eyes and within the light of that individuals eyes, you experience not only the fire of physical desire, but you also experience warmth, caring, kindness and safety…. you’re getting there. You have a starting point.
If your goal is to open yourself to a soul mate, here’s one big hint. Never make love to him/her with your eyes closed, because you’ll miss the best part. Within and beyond your beloveds eyes is entrance to the pathway to their very soul, so don’t you tread there unless you mean it or sadness is bound to befall you both. If you cross that threshold with disceptive intentions…this is the boldest and most deceptive lie that you will ever tell, This is the most unholy form of trespass. Be responsible for yourself, be decent.
If you are ready, to give and to recieve true lasting love, and you know that the person you are with is feeling this same pull, this is the moment! This is when the true marriage of souls is possible, this is the moment of decission, this is when your hearts desire is suspended somewhere in time and space, but, you have to decide if you want to go any further to realize the manifestation of your desire?
You must understand that in loving someone completely and infinitely, you will surely give away parts of your will, for in going forward, there is always the leaving behind….as you cross from a solitary life into a shared life, your own gateways to eternity are opening and in this process, you will bleed away a certain measure of your solitary welfare. Don’t fool yourselves, nothing precious is ever painless. You don’t get something in return for nothing, it isn’t possible. If there isn’t a sense of falling away from yourself in this process, if there isn’t fear, it isn’t real.
This is the point of no return, if you have changed your mind…get back into your own body, change the energy flow and break the spell you have woven and let it be known that you cannot go further. It’s not too late yet….and mind your words because “words are things” be careful, don’t toy with vulnerable half opened souls! You must be of one mind, you must share the desire for a wholy complete union if you truly want to share your eternal love with a soul mate, adjust your energy accordingly, be aware, be fair and be earnest.
If you do choose to seize the moment, that shared and holy moment of mutual invitation, that trembling moment of total elemental surrender, that moment of falling away, that conjuration of two small hopeful loves becoming one infinite force …that very moment in time is where destiny and fate are left gasping for their first united breath, a breath which is born of an exotic blend of shared compassion, shared forgiveness, shared kindness and shared desire. The four elements of lasting love as I see it.
There is no hooey capable of the craft of creating a sacred fire field around the eternal joining of two souls. I do believe that if you look into your lovers eyes and within the light of that individuals eyes, you experience not only the fire of physical desire, but you also experience a sense of warmth, of caring, of kindness and of safety…. you’re getting there. Also, does your name feel safe in this person’s mouth?
If so, you have a starting point.
One thing though….please please please…never make love to him/her with your eyes closed. At some point, you must gather yourself and look into the eyes of your lover or you’ll miss the portal entirely. Within and beyond your lovers eyes (if this is the ONE) is the undeniable entrance to the stores of their love for you. You have to look around for yourself in there if you’re serious!
Even if you’re curious~ don’t play around with anyone’s heart, unless you can freely return those stores of love, sadness is bound to befall you both. If you cross that threshold with deceptive intentions…this is the boldest and most deceptive lie that you will ever tell, This is the most unholy form of trespass. Be responsible for yourself, be decent.
Alright, if you’re ready, if the conditions are right, if love is there, if you are capable of opening yourself to another soul in ways that will make ammendments to every secret place within yourself…go on, enter into that place with perfect love and perfect trust.
IT is done. The “magick” is cast, and every moment from that moment forward, your shared passion is entirely renewable and there is no expiration date…well…not as long as you do not forget to enter the portal, with open eyes, and remember to gaze into and beyond your lovers fear or pain or sorrow, as long as you can see past those mundane details of this life and return to that golden light, to that eager passionate place of decission at the seat of the soul where it all began, again and again.
She dances wild and casts her will
She’s fiery coals, and winter’s chill
She weaves and spins, she boils and bakes
She kneads the bread and bakes the cakes
She listens well, yet, it’s all been told
She’s peaceful now that she is old
Her basket is blessed with herbal charms
She rocks the broken in her arms
Altar rituals, rites and songs
Sacred smoke for righting wrongs
Shadow her door on midnight wings
Whisper all of your secret things
Hear her words and listen well
She knows you more than she will tell
She IS the virgin, the mother, and crone
Queen of life, breath, blood and bone~
What’s This All About?
This life is an interesting experiment. Sometimes none of it makes any sense at all to me.
All of the suffering, all of the sorrow, what’s IS this crazy adventure we call “life” all about anyway?
Why should anyone be homeless or hungry, there’s far more than enough!
I entertain the idea that we’re simply little points of energy learning how to navigate and interpret the human experience, but WHY?
The difficulty is that the flesh is so fickle and then you add the mysterious drip drip of hormones and basic human need.
Not to mention those wild emotional spasms that interrupt our youthful merriment. What about those
ongoing spiritual growth spurts…and selfish back slides?
It’s bound to get messy.
Why is one human born into wealth and grace and another born into poverty and hopelessness?
Why do some find love and others search their entire lives and no one kind and unconditional ever once steps into their path and loves them forever? Why must some have so much and others have so little?
Why do some need so much and others need so little?
Why are some hearts soft and yielding while others are stone cold? Why are some children loved while others die of abuse and neglect? Why do very bad people live to be healthy well into their old age, and others that are good and loving die young? Why is there a need for constant struggle everywhere we look?
Why do we have to label ourselves as ONE THING, why must nations war in the name of GOD?
Why can’t we all flow and float, merge and wander, discover and share? Why can’t we ALL play sweetly together like children before they learn the word “MINE” and before they learn to control their joy? Before they develop “sophisticated” thinking. Why does maturity corrupt us so? These are just a few of the things that I think about when I walk across the hills all alone.
The Silver Winged One~
Your energy came and visited me today~
You appeared in watery colors of blue and silver grey~
You didn’t speak in words, words just wouldn’t suffice~
No no, you spoke in oceans and stars, in sunshine and in ice~
As you were leaving, I surveyed your magick trail~
Lovely winged grace beyond the silver veil.
Brown birds at the window, black cats upon the ledge~
Gray squirrels skipping tree limbs and creatures in the hedge~
Winter straw and barren fields freezing in the dale~
Candle light and raisin cakes part the dewy veil~
Welcome my cold friend, I’m jumping in my seat~
The dark time is upon us, the earth is fast asleep~
November dances in~
She has a Gypsy secret within her Gypsy grin.
Her eyes are amber mist, her hair is raven black.
She is a an icy mother, gourds and apples on her back~
She creeps among the naked trees gathering up the green.
She is autumn’s mother, this regal winter queen.
She’s welcomed by the black birds and taken by the wind~
She’s lovely in the moon’s glow, and reeks of Summer’s End.
Witches in Sleepy Hollow ~ wandering in the mist
We mourned upon your gravestones in sorrows twisted bliss
We lurked within your cabin and gazed upon your pond
Your spirits brushed across our souls and settled in our wand
Oh the prose you’ve gifted us, wise and wondrous all
Standing in the morning mist, I thought I felt your call~
Oh my blackened cauldron popping, sparking bright!
The wheel of the year has turned upon this Samhain night
Witches dancing merrily, singing ‘round the hill
The earth is growing tired, our shelves are at their fill
Grateful for the harvest, sweet souls are welcomed here
Incense, smoke, and candles, laughter, bread and cheer!
Naked trees and barren hills circle round this place
Brown doves cuddle brushy pines and mourn with solemn grace
The clock upon the mantle banishes the dawn
As noontime blows and drips upon the forest lawn
Suppertime will find me stirring at the pot
Sweet and savory spices, my hair up in a knot
Windswept winter kisses, old dogs around my feet
Blessed is the winter time, sweetest of the sweet.
She’s wild I tell you
She sports the mouth of a bitch
She’s wild I tell you
She charms the men to her bed
She’s wild I tell you
She talks with the dead
She’s wild I tell you
She rides on the wind
She’s wild I tell you
There’s a twist in her bend~
No two of us are exactly alike, we are like stars and snowflakes, we are like fingerprints and faces. We are originals one and all. Some of us call ourselves “Wiccan” while others balk at all religiosity and simply refer to themselves as “Witches.”
Some of us belong to covens, while many of us practice on our own, these loners are called, “solitary witches.” Some of us are honed and mentored by elders, while the rest of us read and learn, some witches prefer to use nature as their guide.
Each witch is responsible for their own morality. Each witch chooses what to believe or disbelieve, each witch sets her own standards and practices. There are honorable and dishonorable witches in the world.
Honorable witches do no harm.
I try to walk at least a mile in nature each day. In the warm months, I walk at the beginning or the end of the day. This is an intimate ritual for me, a quiet time of meditation and reflection. While walking and thinking~ my life and the people in it begin to make sense, my work and my passions seem to fall into place with each heel strike. The world is often glowing golden at twilight time and can appear to be a sterling star washed silver as the day awakens. Each walk is a production of great glamour and high drama. Being a witch is not a choice for me, taking the time to connect with nature is part of who I am. Walking across these beloved green hills and strolling among the gilded trees and feeling a part of it all is how I seek “The Divine.” On these walks, I never fail to realize a profound gratitude for the artistry of The Goddess~ I am a daughter of the elements, the landscape is my altar, the rising sun is my sacred flame, my life force is charged with reverence and humble devotion.
This old mountain is alive, aware and alert and wearing her most sensual navy blue dress tonight. Crickets and frogs are humming; rain is falling softly, soundlessly. I know that there is a small group of reddish brown does that are sleeping together one hundred feet below me. There are gray doves sleeping in scruffy pine trees and my favorite old hoot owl is resting upon a branch somewhere along the Oaky ridge above me as I write this. There is too much life out there to fall asleep tonight. I feel it rising up inside of me, sliding, running, coursing through me. Summer is whispering how tired she is and I am sitting with her tonight, comforting her, telling her my secrets as she nods off now and again. A three wick candle burns on a bed of black rocks and creamy sea shells in my cauldron and a black cat sits beneath my desk lamp watching my fingers with primitive feline fascination. I am thinking of how blessed I feel right now to be a silver haired crone witch suffering the wonders of insomnia.