Measi's Musings

Archive for the ‘Faith’ Category

Due to a late night last night, I really struggled to get up this morning. I’ve had coffee. It hasn’t helped. Gah. And since we had to drive into Boston today, it was a very long commute. A few cars decided to destroy Providence traffic. Quite impressive what a couple cars can do on I-95. Cripes.

Anyway, didn’t do all that much last night. I watched Mythbusters and was highly amused at the tests to see the fastest way to chill a six pack of beer. Apparently a carbon dioxide fire extinguisher is the best method, followed by salt poured into ice water (both were at or under 5 minutes). I think I’ll choose the latter. Cheaper. Less spray in the air.

Speaking of six-packs, Rhode Island grocery stores are retarded in one distinct area. They no longer sell normal six-packs of soda on the shelf. They have those midget 8-oz cans, but no normal ones. Only 12-packs. BUT… at least they don’t have the annoying 5 cent additional surcharge bottle deposit like Massachusetts does. I saw the store brand soda in normal 6-packs, however. The store brand ones were also the only ones to be in older style 12-pack boxes (aka not “fridge pack”). It’s funny how only in a couple years, the older boxes look weird to me. Whomever designed the fridge pack is a god of engineering, I must say.

…

For a brief moment last night, I almost considered scrapping my Saturday plans and headng over to Middleboro, Mass. for the annual Southeast Mass. Pagan Pride Day festival. I’m yearning for a good drum circle, after my bad experience at Arisia in January. But I know that it’s really not a good idea. This weekend is our only one through the beginning of October that has no plans involved in it. We have two full-weekend trips coming up in the next three weeks. I really want to get some of my to-do list done around the house and hopefully have some time to just chill out, too.

A big part of my concern is getting the plants on my back walkway into the ground before it gets too much colder in the evenings. I want them to have some time to get settled. Mom suggested just bringing them into our sunroom for the winter, which would be a great idea if there weren’t cats who need to chew on everything. So sometime in the next couple weeks, I need to get some new topsoil, a couple bags of mulch to help protect them over the winter, and get out the trowel. It’s not a lot of plants- one hyrangea, one lemon basil, four asiatic lilies, and a mess of day lilies (which will be planted in clumps, anyway).

And of course, we have boxes. The ever-present supply of boxes. I’m convinced they have procreated in the two months they’ve been sitting in the house. I didn’t pack this many. Honest.

But we are going to roll into our weekend with some fun first. Tonight’s the NFL opening game, Pats. vs. Raiders. We’ll be testing the wide-screen TV that Erich bought just before we moved. During the game I’ll finish up my final stitches on Egyptian Sampler for this round before going on to my next piece for the weekend. Tomorrow night we’re going to the drive-in to catch Red Eye and Four Brothers.

It should be a good time.

Anyway, off to work. I need more coffee.

First– a huge thank you to those who responded via comments or by private email to my fears yesterday. Lots of suggestions and encouragement, and two very lengthy emails with two close friends who are at different stages of this wild wedding planning thing-a-ma-jig, and I’m feeling a tiny bit better. Hopefully that’ll grow with time. And maybe a couple of verbal brawls with my mother. Which will hopefully lead to things calming the fuck down.

Upon the advice of four people, I’ve registered an account on the Kvetching forums at IndieBride. Lots of different topics over there, and I beelined to the one simply named “Anxiety.”

Me? Anxiety? Tell me one you haven’t heard…

A big part of what really set me off was a discussion with my mom on Sunday, in which she made a comment about reserving a hotel for the reception in downtown Providence, but that we should just have the ceremony there because “we didn’t really need to have it outside.”

Well… yeah, we kinda do.

And my mom has been told why this needs to happen. I’m already making some allowances– by my own choice, with no pressure by others– to NOT have a full Pagan handfasting. This is because, despite my openness about my faith, I’m not completely “out of the broom closet” when it comes to extended family. My parents know. My brother knows. Anne (dad’s wife) most likely knows, but already thinks I’m weird, so probably thinks it’s some weird New England thing. And I think my Grandma Lillian knows. Mom’s side of the family? Nope. Lots of conservative Polish Roman Catholics. A couple of them would probably be okay with it, or at least not say anything.

But breaking the news to my grandfather that we would not be getting married in a church was a bit difficult. He was upset, but I told him that neither of us belonged to a church. And I had to remind both my mom and my grandfather that neither of us would be able to get married in a Catholic church anyway. I was baptized and received my first communion in the Episcopal church. Erich recalls receiving first communion, but doesn’t know the denomination beyond “Protestant.” He’s not particularly religious, although spirituality crosses his mind from time to time. And I hold mine as more of an internal ethics/morals structure than an open practice.

Having the ceremony outside is MY way of expressing my faith during the ceremony in a way that’s meaningful to me without being obtrusive to other people. And really– if we’re shooting for an autumn wedding. It’s NEW ENGLAND. You get married out under the gorgeous leaves!! Instant ceremony decoration– and one that we couldn’t top anyway.

So having a completely detailed Pagan handfasting during the “public wedding” is something that I don’t want to do. At least not openly. A later handfasting, just with friends and us, might be in order later. And that’s something we don’t have to arrange a big whoop-de-doo about. Maybe we will– but I’m not worrying about it.

With the “Melissa’s not marrying in a church?!?” issue now out on the table for family consumption, it’s time to start getting into some of the grittier things of a wedding. Like… picking a date…. you know, one of those minor things. And everything’s just hitting me at once. Really stupid little stuff that I don’t need to be worrying about yet– like how we’re going to address engagement and wedding invite announcements when we have two sets of divorced parents, and one of the four has remarried… because we don’t need some retarded “Jennifer, Thomas, Deborah, and Arthur… and Anne (kinda)” thing going on for our announcements.

Although I am leaning toward an amusing reply card like I saw in the forums. “will be there with bells on/won’t be there – childhood bell issues.” Indeed.

Hello, IndieBride… I am about to become your slave…

I hope it’ll be okay. It’s just that I had to forcefully shove wedding stuff off my plate with all of the moving. But it seems like family and co-workers pushed off the “so… when’s the wedding?” questions just until they determined we had a box unpacked at the house. Whammo! It all starts back up again. “When’s the date?” “Have you bought a dress?” (Dude, we’re trying to figure out how to adjust our finances due to the friggin’ flooring bill at the moment. I can’t buy new bras, let alone a wedding dress at the moment).

And Ivy… per your email… you may have to go dress shopping with me. Because I’m certainly not going with my mother. I can only imagine… *shudder*

At this point, the only goals I have for the wedding for the next say, two months or so, is this…

1) Check out reception places downtown.

2) Pick a date– either randomly or by necessity in a deposit on a reception spot.

3) Thereby having a date so I can start researching what I’ll need to find an officiant (since different officiants have different preferences to meet with couples beforehand).

4) And really casually, start putting together a backbone of an invite list.

Maybe we can just get married and not tell anyone… *scratches chin*

Goddess what a trying week. Glad it’s over. Glad it’s spring. Glad that I can have some new beginnings and look at things without the pressures that have been building up for months.

As someone said in an email to me this week– friendships with rules aren’t friendships at all.

She’s right. They’re not. LGM and I both learned that lesson after five years of absolute hell that we put each other through. A friendship where at least one party is afraid to speak up — with good reason because the other party will have none of it– when something is concerning him or her isn’t a friendship at all.

As someone else said to me in person today… “if someone acts like that, I don’t have time for them. Far too busy in life to put up with that crap.”

Yeah.

It’s now Spring. It’s time for rebirth, for renewal, and for new growth. The letter to my father was the first step of this.

I intend to do just that.

For those who emailed me this week to make me laugh or just calm down– thanks. I needed it. For those who aided in the frustration this week and reaffirmed the points of irritation I had to begin with– I hope someday, you can realize that friendships are a two-way street. No one’s completely to blame, but no one’s completely innocent, either. I wish you well.

Onward to better, brighter pastures…

o, I’m not premenstrual. But this has come up on the Religion and Spirituality Penpal boards at AOL, and I realized how wonderful this ritual really is. I’ve had it in my Book of Shadows for nearly a decade now. I’ve performed it once. And it’s long past time to celebrate it again….

The Chocolate Ritual

Copyright 1993, John Shepard, Performed at Dragonfest, August 1993

Materials required: On the altar there are brown candles, a Tootsie Roll (the great big one—as the athame), a large glass with milk in it (the chalice), a small dish of Nestle’s Quik and a spoon, a small dish of chocolate sprinkles, a plate of cupcakes and some Yoo-Hoo along with a goblet.

CLEANSE THE SACRED SPACE:

(Take the small bowl of chocolate sprinkles)

Chocolate sprinkles where thou art cast

No calories in thy presence last.

Let no fat adhere to me,

And as I will So Mote It BE!

(Take the small bowl of Nestle’s Quik and spoon)

Nestle’s Quik where thou art cast

Turn this milk to chocolate, fast.

Let all good things come to me,

And make my milk all chocolatey!

CAST THE CIRCLE (using a tootsie roll):

CALL THE QUARTERS:

Mousse of the East, Fluffy one!

Great prince of the palace of dessert.

Be present, we pray thee,

And guard this circle from all moochers

Approaching from the East.

Fondue of the South, Molten One!

Great prince of the palace of decadence.

Be present we pray thee,

And guard this circle from all diets

Approaching from the south.

Cocoa of the west, Satisfying One!

Great prince of the palace of thirst.

Be present we pray thee,

And guard this circle from all carob

Approaching from the West.

Rocky Road of the North, Cold one!

Great prince of the palace of crunchy.

Be present we pray thee,

And guard this circle from all cheap imitations

Approaching from the North.

MAIN RITUAL:

HANDMAIDEN (Henceforth known as the Swiss Miss): Listen to the words of the Mother of Chocolate, who was of old called Godiva, Ethel M, Sara Lee, Nestle, Mrs. See, and by many other names.

HPS: Whenever you have one of those cravings, once in a while and better it be when your checkbook is full, then shall you assemble in a great public place and bring offerings of money to the spirit of Me, who is Queen of all Goodies. In the Mall shall you assemble, you who have eaten all your chocolate and are hungry for more. To you I shall bring Good Things for your tongue. And you shall be free from depression, and as a sign that you are truly free, you shall have chocolate smears on your cheeks, and you shall munch, nosh, snack, feast, and make yummy noises, all in my presence. For mine is the ecstasy of phenylalanine (FEEN-EL-AL-A-NEEN), and mine also is Joy on Earth, yea, even into High Orbit, for my law is “Melts in your mouth, not in your hand.”

Keep clean your fingers, carry Wet Ones always, let none stop you or turn you aside. For mine is the secret that opens your mouth, and mine is the taste that puts a smile on your lips and comfy, padding pounds on your hips. I am the Gracious Goddess who gives the gift of joy unto the tummies of men and women. Upon earth, I give knowledge of all things delicious, and beyond death……..well, I can’t do much there. Sorry about that.

I demand only your money in sacrifice; for behold, chocolate is a business, and you have to pay for those truffles before you eat them.

SWISS MISS: Hear now the words of the Goodie Goddess, she in the dust of whose feet are the cheap imitations, whose body graces candy racks and finer stores everywhere.

I, who am the beauty of chocolate chips, and the satisfying softness of big bars, the mystery of how they get the filling inside of truffles, and fill the hearts of all but Philistines with desire, call unto thy soul to arise and come unto me. For I am the soul of candy; from me do all confections spring, and unto me all of you shall return, again…..and again……….and again………………and again.

Before my smeared face, beloved of Women and Men, thine innermost divine self shall be enfolded in the rapture of overdose. Let my taste be within the mouth that rejoices. For behold, all acts of yumminess and pleasure are my rituals. Therefore, let there be gooeyness and mess, crispness and crackling, big slabs and bite size pieces, peanut butter and chocolate covered cherries all within you.

And you who think to seek me, know that your seeking and yearning shall avail you not unless you know the Mystery; “We will sell no chocolate until you pay for it.”

For behold; I have been with you since you were just a baby, and I am that which is attained at nearly any shop in the land.

Messed Be!

SWISS MISS: Hear now the words of the Chocolate God, who was of old called Ghirardelli, Milton Snavely Hershey, Bosco, Fudgesicle, and by many other names.

HP: I am the strength of the candy rack, and the piece that fell on the floor, but looks like it might not have gotten too dirty, and the deepest bitterness of dark chocolate. No matter how you try to resist the call of chocolate, I will hunt you out and I will become your sacred prey. I am the warmth of hot cocoa in the dead of winter, and the call of the road that leads you to that really expensive Godiva store downtown.

I give you, my creatures, the fire of love of chocolate, the power of jaw strength to bite off a piece of that frozen Milky Way bar, and the shelter of Haagen Daz when that big date didn’t work out. You are dear to me, and I instill in you my power; the power of a piece of chocolate that you had forgotten you had hidden, and the power of vision and magickal sight with which you can spot a candy counter a mile away.

By the powers of the half melted bar in the glorious sun, I charge you; by the darkest depths of the bottom of the cocoa pot and the lingering smell of bittersweet chocolate, I charge you; and by the beauty of a perfectly swirled vanilla butter cream, I charge you: Follow your heart and your instinct, wherever they lead you. The wealth in your pocket can buy you treats that a Mayan king would envy. Take joy in that first bite of lecithin emulsified cocoa, and in the last satisfying slurp of Yoo-Hoo. Yet you must be wary of deceit. Eat not of that which is called “Baking Chocolate,” for it is vile and bitter.

Lastly, always remember to leave some chocolate behind you. Be not greedy, but let yourself be known as a connoisseur. Leave a little for someone else.

I am with you always, just over your shoulder, or around the next corner. I am the Lord of Chocolate, and when you have reached the end of your hoard, I will never be farther away from you than that 7-Eleven on the corner. I am the spirit of the Wild Child; the Inner Child who can never get quite enough.

If you are a true chocolate lover, then your soul and mine are intertwined.

DISMISS QUARTERS:

HPS: Oh, ye mighty goodies of the ______,

We thank you for attending our rites and guarding our circle

And ere you depart for your sweet and sticky realms,

We say unto you, “N-E-S-T-L-E-S, Nestles makes the very best.”

ALL: “Chooooc-laaate.”

(After all quarters have been dismissed, give a final, satisfying belch at the East.)

Close circle.

copyright August 1993, John L. Shepard. Permission is given to post anywhere as long as the content is not altered and this notice is attached.

Spring started today.

Could you tell outside? Was it any different than yesterday? In many parts of the USA today, it seems that the first day of spring is actually a good dosage of winter weather, including here. We’re getting the “catch-all” precipitation storm… a little snow, a little rain… a whole lot of damp chill stuff.

Ah yes, spring all right.

Like Mabon on Sept. 21st, Ostara is a day of balance and of equaling the score on things. From this day forward — until Mabon — the sun will light the sky for more hours than it will rest. The slumber of the earth that began in September now changes to rebirth and reawakening.

Crocuses are blooming. Birds are chirping every morning. The magnolia trees that look like tulips are just about to pop out, and trees are budding everywhere.

It’s definitely springtime, despite the weather today.

But even this yucky weather is a sign of rebalance this Ostara. The Northeastern USA has been going through a horrible drought, like much of the country, and after an extremely lackluster winter for weather storms, the earth is parched and desperately needs the moisture. For Ostara, at least, that moisture is coming down, starting to rebalance the scales that were tipped all winter.

Ostara is normally a “(sigh) that’s finally over. Thank Goddess.” New England winters can be extremely harsh, both in precipitation and occasionally in temperature, too. Although it might not seem all that different on the equinox, just the knowledge that springtime has arrived is a relief. In only a few short weeks, the windows will be open all the time. The A/C will be cranked up, and summertime will beat down on the city. It seems so foreign after a winter of blasting cold Nor’Easter winds.

And in the spirit of Ostara, I’m trying to rebalance myself, too. Work has drained me so much lately that it finally caught up with me in the form of extremely intense stomach pains yesterday– almost entirely due to stress. (I was terrified by them and had a co-worker follow me home, since I was afraid of being behind the wheel in that much pain. And friends and family can vouch for me– I grit through pain. It takes a lot for me to literally be in tears like I was yesterday).

In order to rebalance, I’m making an effort to do something to refocus on myself. Tonight I’m having coffee with Tan, and we’re working on a Nervousness LMAO together. Then I’ll go home and give myself a good dose of Reiki, concentrating specifically on my abdomen after yesterday.

I’m also going to find my exercise leggings in my closet so I can start walking at lunchtime. Take that hour for myself and just calm down during the day.

Because Ostara isn’t just about the Earth rebalancing. It’s a reminder to rebalance the self as well.

Bright Blessings,

Mel.

Honestly, I forgot that today was the six month anniversary of the attacks. That is, until I turned on the TV this morning at 8:45.

Really odd that I turned it on just in time for a moment of silence on the TV.

So where am I in my life six months after everything was turned upside down, toward September 11th?

Some basic rundowns:

I still feel ostracized in my own country due to my faith (I’m not Judeo-Christian, so evidently I’m not among true “Americans”). I feel unwelcome, and I start to squirm every time I hear “God Bless America,” which has now lost all meaning except one to me– that as a polytheist, I’m shut out. But I don’t think this is entirely due to Sept. 11th– I think it’s partly due to:
I do not agree with Bush’s policies– on the war, on the homefront, on anything. I’m counting down to 2004, although I have a bad feeling he’ll be re-elected because of this war effort.
I feel anger toward the agencies which have held the families of 9/11 victims hostage on the charitable contributions that were given in good faith by millions of Americans.
I cry for the charities that were hurt because contributions were sent elsewhere.
I feel sympathy for those whose lives have been turned upside down, yet thankful that my own life was not touched so directly.
I occasionally feel ashamed for going on with my life, although I know it would be unhealthy to dwell, and I’m doing what I need to in order to go on.
I have stopped feeling any pity for what’s going on in the Middle East– both sides are killing each other with no regards. Let them figure their own way out of this mess, even if it means destroying each other entirely.
So perhaps my lack of silence today is a bit insensitive, but I thought the most fitting way to take note of what happened six months ago is to note it happened by doing as much as I possibly can that is my everyday life.

It’s the polite way of giving the middle finger to terrorists, IMHO. My life goes on. Sometimes with a bit more sadness, but with more resolve, and a bit more opinion on the world at large.

***

It has been a reflective weekend for me. Very busy getting stuff into storage and such, gaming, etc. But on Saturday, the weather was absolutely beautiful– bright blue skies, high 60′s (and maybe a 70 or so?), and just wonderful. While I was driving back and forth to the storage place, I had the windows rolled down and the stereo up, my hair back in low plaits to keep it out of the way while I got stuff done. The weather made me feel young, feel alive, and feel happy. Springtime around the corner. Ahhh yes!

Of course, yesterday my fatigue hit me like a ton of bricks, and I was grumpy and feeling like crap all day. Gotta love the balance of the coin this time of year. *sigh* But during my grumpiness, I did do a lot of reflection– mostly on my grandparents.

Both of my grandparents on my mother’s side celebrate their birthdays this week. My grandmother will be 79, my grandfather 78. Next month, my surviving grandmother on my father’s side will turn 83.

I wonder if next year, I’ll be celebrating any of them with them.

Both of my grandmothers have cancer. I found this out about both of them in the past week. Neither hit me that hard right away, but I think it was growing in the back of my mind.

I knew Grandma Mary (mom’s side) most likely had cancer again. She survived ovarian cancer three years ago somehow, but it’s such a nasty form of cancer that usually is caught far too late (and she was in a higher stage when it was found). Sometime around Thanksgiving, Mom mentioned she was having trouble again, and they were wondering what was going on. Tests found that she now has bladder cancer, and they’re seeing if it has spread elsewhere.

Will I see her next year?

Grandma Lillian (dad’s side) was a surprise, but I’ve never been close to her because of how she acted toward me as a child. I’ve always felt she looked down on Scott and me because we were the adopted kids, not of “real” Kent heritage. And experiences that I won’t go into here led me to dislike the woman, but respect her simply because she’s the matriarch of the Kent family. She has what my father is calling a “milder” growth, but regardless, it’s cancer, she’s going through radiation, and she’s nearing her mid-80′s.

Again, will I see her next year? Even though we’re not close, and I’m not sure I want to be fake and attempt to make amends simply for the sake of making them?

I think my anger about the whole situation is focused purely on my father, who simply dropped me an email this week to inform me about Grandmother Lillian’s condition, and how she was a bit over a month into treatment. Why the hell didn’t he contact me earlier?

I love my father, but regardless of my relationship with my grandmother, this was just bullshit. Considering that I just talked to him on the phone in the last couple of weeks. He couldn’t tell me then?

*sigh*

Anyway… my debates about Easter are solidified– I’m going to Pennsylvania. And I might arrange with my mom to do a side trip down to Birdsboro to see Grandma Lillian sometime during the weekend.

–Mel.

Why the fuck can’t people accept that others have the right to their own thoughts and beliefs?

I try to be as accepting as possible. Not of the specific practices of another faith, but in respecting someone’s right to believe the way they do. I realize I’m way too naive in hoping that by doing so, I’ll get that respect back. Stupid!Measi.

Now, as a Wiccan who’s been on the web for several years, has a webpage and contact info, I’m well aware of fundie syndrome. I’ve been attacked by it on several occasions. But now I’m seeing it happen to a friend, and it pisses me off to no end.

You see… I have a friend, (X) who is separated from his wife. He was kicked out of the house after having an affair. Yes, he was wrong. And yeah, he deserves to be kicked out. But now… THREE YEARS AFTER, as the divorce is being finalized, he’s engaged to a wonderful woman who he’s truly happy with, and he’s trying to get on with his life, one of his friends (The Fundie) of twentysome-odd years is deciding to pull the “I am a good Christian and you’re not” bullshit.

My friend’s already been kicked out of his church because, as The Fundie put it, he was no longer welcome after what he did with his marriage. Completely shut out. Gone. Why? Because he’d sinned “past the point of redemption.” *snort* Well, whatever.

But NO… it gets better. Now that X has decided to live with his fiancÈe, and get their lives going, it’s become a huge problem to The Fundie. “He’s living with another woman while he’s still married!!!” “He’s breaking his promises as to his responsibilities as a father!!!” “He’s unremorseful for what he’s done because he hasn’t asked to be let back into the church!!!” and so-on and so-on. Well, heck… let’s discuss this from my point of view as a child of divorce, shall we?

1) X lives in a shithole apartment and needs to move elsewhere just to start feeling human again.

2) He’s been living only a few minutes away from his kids and ex-wife

3) About every other weekend, he has the kids. And he does a LOT of things with them… D&D, Girl Scouts, sports, etc. He’s very involved with his kids’ lives

4) Just because he’s moving to another town which is still within decent driving distance (about an hour away) does not mean he’s skirting his responsibilities

5) If I had my entire congregation turn their backs on me and lock me out, I wouldn’t go the fuck back, either.

So The Fundie has decided that not only will he not help X when he eventually moves into his new place… he will not come over to X’s house “until he’s in a correct marriage.” And why isn’t X already in a correct situation? Because as The Fundie damn well knows, X was told by the judge that the divorce settlement wasn’t fair for *X* and that it had to be rewritten before it would be approved. X just wants out of the marriage to end the whole thing.

So The Fundie, “not wanting to make a big deal” out of the situation, has apparently told everyone… except X… his view on the situation. Which leaves the rest of us in a very uncomfortable position. Do we tell X? Do we wait and let The Fundie tell X?

Grrrrr….

Fucking Fundies.

I try to be tolerant… but damn if they won’t turn me into a complete bigot.