Life Ran Me Over!

Wow.... I'm actually writing again... cool. This has been a while (like more than a few months), good thing I don't rely on blogging for a living or I'd be broke by now. So I have decided that I really wish life had a pause button because as I said before... life just ran me over!

It started with the death of my friend, that I wrote about earlier. That one completely surprised me and took me a while to come to terms with (although I know it was 100 times harder on her family). I spent a lot of time contemplating life, the rituals we use to celebrate life and to mourn death, and just how little time we really have.

Then there is my music lessons, please everyone take a moment to feel sympathy for my poor neighbors because I am in the process of learning how to play the bagpipes... yep that's right, I am now the annoying neighbor that is playing bagpipes in the middle of the flippen day! I'm very lucky to have found an instructor who is a world class player. He was born and raised with a pipping family in Scotland and somehow made his way to Canada! He is also going to be instructing the kids that are in my youth group, so we are very excited to have him on board! I'm finding the instrument to be a very challenging one to learn ( I've played drums for more than half my life and picked them up rather easily compared to this!). I'm trying to practice every night for 15 to 30 minutes but don't always have the time.

Then of course my youth group stood up again in the fall and we had the usual mad dash to get the new kids registered, update the information of the current kids, work on some staff training, train the senior kids to step into their new roles... it's exhausting but totally worth it! The first three months are always so busy that I find myself hitting November going "where the hey did the last few months go!". This year was no different.

I have decided I want to try my hand at running a side project to this blog to showcase the pictures I love to take so so I am planning that. My 3 year old laptop is finally cratering. It's not charging properly and now the system is starting to be all wonky so I bit the bullet and bought a new one that should be here any day now. In the meantime the old one and I are still somewhat functional, even though I have to lean it a certain way to get it to charge and it likes to randomly freeze or shut down on me. Thankfully we are able to afford a new one!

On top of this I had a very huge change happen in my life. I don't discuss it much here on this blog since I like to remain under my pseudonym while writing but it was a huge commitment that I recently made that involved a mountain of paperwork and lots of training. This past month I spent two weeks away from home on my training and had no time for anything else!

And finally my heart was a little broken this last month as one of my little dogs, the 15 year old boy, passed away after a brief illness while I was away from home. My husband did an amazing job of taking care of him, and the vet did everything she could but it was his time. In the future I will probably write a little more on him but when I am not as sad. All I will say for now is that he was a very good dog and I love and miss him.

So yeah... PAUSE BUTTON PLEASE!

A Witch in Church Part Three - Conclusions

So in my last two posts I talked about the Church building that we visited for Danielle's funeral and the type of people we met. This post is going to be a bit of rambling of some of the conclusions I came to in the course of this visit.

First of all I loved the building, I loved the way they had made sure it was welcoming to everybody who comes in. The boards with the names and photographs of the members would make any newcomer feel more at ease, he celebrating of new members helps to affirm their connection tot he community. The newsletter with tidbits of personal stories from the pastor and the favorite recipes enhanced the feeling of community and  made you feel like part of an extended family. I loved the sacredness of the space. At most Pagan events we seem to set up in meeting rooms and community halls, which are awesome, but lack the energy of a place where people come together regularly to honor that which is greater than themselves. I would love for there to be more spaces like that, perhaps ones that cater to multiple faiths, to exist.

Secondly I am glad I had the chance to listen to the Pastor’s sermon. I don't know about the rest of you but sometimes I find forging my own spiritual path hard. There are no certainties, your beliefs never exactly match up with other people's beliefs and while there are teachers and guides along the way, there is no roadmap. Listening to the sermon I got the chance to experience the beliefs of an established roadmap, and it totally did not agree with my inner compass. 

Don't get me wrong, he was a good pastor and spoke well of the Gospels and the teachings of the church. For people who believe the same as he does I could see the comfort in the message. For somebody like me, who has been walking her own path for some time I found it left me cold inside and did not match what was in my heart. It reminded me of the groups I have been involved in, both non Pagan and Pagan that did not match what I felt and why it was in my best interest to follow my own path.

However it also made me realize how hard walking one’s own path can be. At the passing of friends and family it has been challenging at times. Those who belong to a church have a built in community of support, with a laid out script to follow. For example, a while ago I found out about the Jewish tradition of sitting Shiva after somebody passes. What a wonderful affirmation of faith while brining a community together to support the family. And in times of great sorrow and heartbreak these rituals provide a comforting anchor in a time when your whole world has fallen away from you.

When my Mother passed away I was a new Pagan, with no established tradition or group whom gathered around me. I had an amazing group of friends and family who were there whenever I needed them to be, but no faith community. The people who spoke of my mother’s passing came from an assortment of faiths and each spoke from their own belief system. I often felt alone while surrounded by people who spoke of either her soul going to Heaven, those who didn’t use the word Heaven but said “a better place” and those who did not believe the soul existed. There was no narrative that I could turn to for comfort while I let myself mourn and heal. 

Naturally it would be a hard thing to accomplish with Pagans in general (go ahead, get a Druid, a Wiccan and a Heathan to agree where we will end up when we pass on…). With so many different paths and traditions and deities finding a common narrative for times like mourning will be a very challenging task. Add to the fact that getting a pagan group organized well in advance is somewhat challenging, let alone a spur of the moment sudden gathering and you are just making the task more difficult (insert cat herding jokes here). To organize something like this would take the patience of a Saint combined with a will of Iron, and yet it would be so valuable. While some of us have been blessed to find Covens, Circles, Hearth’s, Kindred, Groves and any other form of Pagan Group that cares about them and supports them, many have not.  Think about how wonderful it would be to have a group of Pagans, who may not share your actual belief system but have some similarities, stop in to check on you. A group to let you talk, pray with you, light candles with you and support you as your world crashed to a halt (even as the rest of the world marches forward). Wouldn’t that be wonderful?

Finally… I love little old Church Ladies! Granted I have never had a bad experience with any of them, so if you have I am sorry to hear that. I love the feeling of all of these Grandmotherly types coming together to care for the community. They were warm, friendly and attentive, and yet I'm not sure anyone really took notice of them. There was no standing ovation for their hard work, nobody stepped into the kitchen and said "Thanks ladies, take a break". These women who all looked like they were in their late 70's and quite honestly their energy put me to shame. They ran from table to table, carrying food out to people, laying a quiet hand on the shoulders of the people who were standing alone in the corners. They made sure everyone who was there was well taken care of, using a combination of grace and humor to ensure we were all well fed. They did not preach, they did not chastise, they just were there, serving those whose hearts were breaking. We need more people like that in this world.

A Witch in Church Part Two - the People, the Pastor and the Church Ladies

As I mentioned early I was recently in a church for a friend’s funeral and while I was there I had the chance for the first time in almost a decade to walk around and take in my surroundings. Last post I spent some time talking about the physical attributes to the space, today I want to talk about the people I saw.

First thing I want to note is that the place was packed... I mean we literally had people lining the walls and staying in the front entrance because the place was so busy. Bill is a member of a branch of Emergency Services in the big city by my little town and all of his colleagues came to the funeral, their vehicles parked outside and a radio at the ready in case a call came in. They all made a point of going to see him and his sons, either before or after the funeral, to convey sympathy. The family was most certainly not alone. We were certainly over the building capacity and were lucky that the Fire Marshall was amongst the mourners.

The pastor for the funeral was the pastor for the emergency services so he know many of the people who had gathered. The church had been chosen as he was one of the pastors of that church so the family had been able to go in with some helpers a day in advance to get everything just the way Bill wanted it. Everyone was complimenting the beautiful arrangements, and admiring all the beautiful pictures of Danielle. The pastor ensured he was in the front of the church with Bill, greeting everyone who was there and introducing himself to everybody he did not know.

The funeral itself was beautiful. Danielle`s best friend provided a wonderful eulogy that had a mix of funny and heart filled stories of Danielle`s life and the love she had. Following that there was a touching picture tribute to Danielle and then the pastor gave a short sermon. The sermon was my least favorite part simply because I do not connect to the Christian message, but  I could appreciate that for those who believe in the message it would be a comforting thing to hear. Bill and his sons then came forward to thank everyone for being there for them. Once they had finished the had two Pipers play ``Amazing Grace`` (that was the one that got me, I cannot hear Amazing Grace on the Pipes without loosing it). The family then departed and went into the room with all the tables and chairs where refreshments were waiting.

We all piled into the room and soon it was overflowing with people, so much so that many people had to stand outside in the parking lot. There were sandwiches, trays of dainties, coffee, tea and juice all being served by a team of little old Church Ladies. I noticed them when we first arrived. We got to the funeral an hour early and when we got there the Church Ladies were already there, 6 or 7 of them, bustling about the kitchen making up the sandwiches and juices, and plating the dainties. WHen the funeral was over they had everything laid out in a very attractive spread and were at the ready, serving the coffee, tea and jucies, taking away people`s garbage, washing cups as they were used and making sure everything was well stocked.

As the crowd mingled these ladies seemed to have a special eye for those who were not eating and would stop by with trays of sandwiches. One of them would approach groups of people and say Ì can`t go back in there with all this food, I will get in trouble, you can`t let me get in trouble, have another sandwich. They were extra attentive to Danielle`s family, running extra food and drinks to them or placing a gentle hand on their shoulders. These women radiated warmth and compassion and were eager to do anything they could to lend a hand. As the gathering wrapped up and people began to head home the Church Ladies wrapped up the extra food for the family to take home and continued to wash a mountain of dishes left over from the mourners. They were bright, cheerful and happy, and I estimate that the youngest of them was in her sixties.

A Witch in Church Part One - General Observations

As I mentioned last week we had a very sad blow and lost a beautiful lady, whom I called Danielle. She had passed very suddenly and thankfully peacefully in her sleep of cardiac problems. Loosing anybody is hard, and it seems that the best of people seem to leave us way too soon. We are left with a hole in our worlds, a void that cannot be filled. We learn to move forwards, we continue to live our lives and continue to love and be loved, but nothing will ever take that person's place. After her passing there was a funeral held for her at one of the churches in the big city near my little town.

I don't go to church much (obviously). I attended a wedding recently at an Orthodox Ukrainian Church, which was a beautiful ceremony that I will have to tell you about sometime. Other than the odd wedding held inside a church (where we go in, watch the wedding and leave immediately afterwards) I haven't spent much time inside churches. We came to the funeral early to ensure that we were on hand in case the family needed help with anything and for the first time in almost a decade I actually took the time to look around.

One of the first things that I noticed was the Main foyer of the church. There were multiple bulletin boards lining most of the walls. On one board there were the big picture boards that you normally see lining the hallways of a high school, proclaiming "Class of....” These were pictures of every person in the congregation, as I looked I realized that the church had actually hired a photographer to come and take pictures of the congregation. This was on the board that stated "Our Congregation Welcomes You", just under the names of the pastors. Next to it is a list of the new members under a welcoming message. There were signup sheets for potlucks, for charity drives and for bible studies and the sheets were almost full.

As I stepped further into the main foyer I saw that they had a table with copies of the church newsletter with messages from the pastors, recipes and gardening tips, along with updates on the church and a quarterly financial report. A few paces behind that was a magazine type rack packed with brochures covering a wide variety of topics including (but not limited to) Divorce, Marriage, Suicide, Terminal Illness, Stress, Anxiety, Job Loss, Children. I peeked at a few of them, they had some advice, some bible passages as well as a list of websites for support groups that were Christian as well as secular.

The next room was their Worship Hall that held the main Altar of the Church along with the rows of pews, but just outside of the hall was another room; this room had in it a crib and a rocking chair. It was a reasonably spacious room, the size of a small office. When I went to the bathroom I noticed a change table with some extra wipes under it and there was a bottle of hand lotion on the sink.

The bathrooms were right off a large gathering room where they had set up folding tables and chairs, each of the tables had a nice runner and centerpiece on it. Just next to the big gathering room there was a large kitchen which was full of people… to be continued.

Goodbye Too Soon

This week we lost a beautiful woman, she was a friend of mine who had children in our youth group. Her husband is the chair of our Parents Committee and she was a huge supporter of ours behind the scenes. For the sake of privacy I will call this woman Danielle. It's really cliche to say this but Danielle really had a heart of Gold. In the four years that I have known her I lost count of how many times I thought to myself "what a wonderful woman".

She had a kind and gentle spirit. Over the time I got to know her she shared a small bit of her past and parts of it were not always pleasant. She had many familial problems and yet you would never know this talking to her. She radiated love and acceptance wherever she went. Whenever she spoke of her darker past she spoke from a place of acceptance, love and forgiveness. There was never a bitter word said and she worked hard to understand what trauma's had shaped the people who hurt her. I often would listen to her speak of how she came to a place of understanding why they acted the way they did and how understanding their trauma's helped her to forgive them.

Instead to focusing on the past hurts she instead strove to build a brighter future for herself, her husband (who we will call Bill) and her children. She adored her husband and was devoted to her children. Her eyes would light up whenever she saw any of them and she often spoke of the pride she had in them. She was the kind of woman that you could forget her birthday and she wouldn't even be bothered by it.

Everyone who knew her was blessed by her presence. Our work with the youth group is often stressful and sometimes can even be isolating. She would often go out of her way to seek one of us out to talk with us for a while, let us vent a frustration or ensure that we had supper that night. You were never alone with Danielle around. I cherished those talks we used to have and found myself striving to emulate her easy grace, love and compassion.

She raised her children well. In the time I have gotten to know her two teenage sons through the youth group and had to marvel at their intelligence, their wit and their great compassion. They both frequently look out for others and were always eager to lend a hand. They have always done well academically and have been the kind of friend that will be there for whomever needs them. The love this family shared radiated from them.

Last week we learned of her passing and immediately went to Bill and their two teenage boys. As we arrived and heard of how she passed I couldn't help but look around the house, my eyes rested on a framed photograph. I saw that photograph being taken only a month and a half ago. I remember that night vividly and can still remember what she said to me, her laugh as we exchanged funny stories of the week. I remembered the recent BBQ we had with the family, the food eaten and the laughter shared. As I looked around I felt a small hole open within me as I realized she physically was no longer there. I cannot begin to imagine the hole that Bill and the boys must be feeling.

At her funeral her eldest son took a moment to get up in front of the mourners and thank them for the outpouring of support his family had received. He commented on how difficult the week had been and how he loved his mother. He said "all things must come to an end and unfortunately for Mom it came too soon". How true his words are. It hit me to my very core about how soon things come to an end, how transitory this life is, how little time we have in this life.

All things must come to an end and sadly for us Danielle's story ended far to soon for us. Thank you Danielle for the time you blessed us with.

Notebooks

I am a notebook fiend, have been even before I could write. When I was younger my parents had to keep any notebooks they brought home out of my reach, otherwise they would go missing (and eventually rediscovered tucked away in a corner of my room). I loved back to school as a kid because it meant several crisp new composition books that I could carry around. Knowing my love of them my mother always picked up one or two extras for me. 

When we went shopping at dollar stores it was inevitable that you would find me in the notebook section, holding the various books, feeling the pages, seeing how they would lay open. I was rather picky about the kind of notebooks I liked and could spend the entire trip trying out every single on for the right notebook. Sometimes they wouldn’t have any I liked and other times my parents had to talk me out of buying 15 of them at once.

In high school it was disappointing to me that we no longer used the composition books, but I found that I liked having binders. The days before school had me putting in the fresh new pages, carefully dividing the binders with the bright new tabs and carefully labeling them in my atrocious writing. I would then sit back and flip to each section, admiring the pages. The first few days of school I tried hard to write in them neatly, to keep them tidy and organized, it never lasted. Eventually the pages tore, little notes got scribbled in the sides, snacks would be spilled on them and the writing smudged. I knew it was inevitable, but I’d try to postpone it.

Despite my love of notebooks and paper I have always been an inconsistent journaller (is that a word?). I would go in fits and spurts, writing out long entries for a few weeks and then not touching it for weeks or even months on end. I often reused old journals years later because there was still some good paper in them. If I wasn’t journaling I was doing what most teenage girls did, write stories, story ideas and really crappy poetry. Wherever I went a notebook or two was always with me.  

When I decided to become a witch in college I spent months hunting for the perfect notebook for my Book of Shadows, trying out several different kinds of note books and pens to see which felt the best. I had several magical books on the go at one point in time… a Book of Shadows for my spells, a Book of Light (detailing my spiritual feelings which is now scrapbooked… another story), a spiral bound notebook for notes from the books I liked and even binders with lessons I did for myself.

Over time my diligence waned. I slipped into being a lazy witch and an overall “Bad Pagan” (actually I might keep that moniker along with “Redneck Pagan” for the same reason… I find it funny). I wasn’t doing a lot of work on the magical side of my life as the physical realities of being a grown up (you know, work, marriage, mortgage, taxes, wondering why the hell I came into this room) took over. 

I got stressed, I got tiered and generally pissed off at life. And then we had a tsunami of crap (granted both good and bad) happen over the last year and a half that threw monkey wrenches into everything I planned and got me even crankier. I pushed through, did what needed to be done and started to take the chaos in my life and build a new future (with help from an amazing husband, a loving family and friends who didn’t care if I ate the whole pint while talking). Things started leveling out, and I started to get on with day to day life. 

As I went through all this notebooks were constant companions. They gave me release for all the pent up emotions, a chance to get out some of the negative things I was feeling in safe manner. And when I had finally exhausted the negativity and emptied out my soul I had space to fill up with the more positive things in life. Once again another notebook was at my side. Slowly I have started writing about the brighter things I see around me. Little by little the light within is shinning brighter. A notebook absorbed my darkness and another helped me find my light

Year End

We are in crunch time in my little corner of the world. In less than 20 days my youth group will be done for the year. We run from early September to early June. Some of the kids will go to summer camps and some will not. As for my husband and myself, we are looking forward to a summer off. But before that can begin we are in the mad dash rush to get to the end of the year. There is a million and one things to do and prepare before we can finish off, and our annual wrap up is one of them. This is a massive day long undertaking that sometimes reminds me of a Broadway Production.

First we have the innumerable practice, the creation of displays, the primping and preening, the planning of awards, the banquet afterwards... and then when all that is done an epic after party at my house (that still needs to be cleaned to within an inch of it's life at some point in time).

So forgive me for my absence since every time I sit down to write something I end up making a to do list... I'm not gone permanently, my mind is just occupied!

Little

This weekend was a hard one, I had to face a death. This death was so little in the cosmic scale, so seemingly unimportant and so simple and average that it shall not be thought of by more than a tiny handful of people. And yet is so immensely heart wrenching that I am haunted a little by it. The death is that of a tiny ball of fluff, a little mutt of a dog who at 16 years slipped out of this life. The little dog isn't my dog, but was the dog of a friend of mine and my husband.

 She called us Saturday night, having come home from being away to find her little dog, curled up in it's bed, cold and not breathing. It was not unexpected, the dog was ill and frail. Totally blind and partially deaf this little dog had begun to have some health concerns and there had been some heart wrenching talk of taking it for the last ride to the vet. Now that decision would not have to be agonized over. We came right away, driving the 40 some KM into town with the car on cruise control to keep me from speeding. My husband and I said little on this drive, I think we both got lost in our thoughts and concern for our friend.

I won't describe the scene I walked into as we came into her home, it's heartbreaking enough just thinking about it. I wrote it out in my blue journal (the one I save for my saddest and darkest thoughts) and out of respect for my friend it will stay in that journal till I fill it and burn it. I can only tell you it tore into me in a way that no other scene I have ever experienced could. The grief that pour out of my friend caused me to cry a little while I was there, and a lot when I was alone.

We sat with her a long while, offering what little inadequate words of comfort we could. This little inconsequential dog had been her light, had been there in her ups and downs. Had comforted her in the night, and brought joy to her days. As the dog failed in health she continued to pour love onto my friend. And now the dog has passed, and the emptiness was palpable. We talked about the little dog, held our friend as she cried and reassured her that love never dies.

We then took the frail little body with us to the local pet crematorium. I know the owners and know the respect that they will give to this little body who contained a soul larger than life. We will go with my friend to collect the ashes when they are ready, and give my friend a small gift of a cast of the miniscule paw. It won't be much, it is all we can give her. I wish I could do more, I wish I could give them another 16 years, I wish I could pull out the pain and sorrow of the loss. I wish I could mend the broken heart this little life left behind.

I still hate death. The actual death itself does not bother me, all life is transitory and must someday end. Death is a doorway to the next life, releasing the soul for a chance at rebirth and renewal. I do not hate death for those things. I hate death for everything it leaves those of us left behind with. I hate the heartbreak, the shattering of the lives, the pieces that must be picked up and put back together (and they can never be put together the same as before). I hate the sorrow and the loneliness, the guilt and the anger. I hate the feeling of loss, the feeling of being helpless at either the death itself, or the pain of those left behind. And I hate the wandering of the heart and soul that we all go through as we work through the death of a loved one, big or little.

I also hate sometimes how we as a society views death. For my friend the loss of her little dog is an immeasurable tragedy, felt just as deep as any other member of the family. And yet there are those who are poised to tell her "It's just a dog", like it's life was somehow worth less than another. Like somehow her personal grief is not important or worthy of them to take a moment and express sympathy. Like an animal who has faithfully been at her side for over 16 years is something that she should just be able to toss aside and forget. I wish I could change that mindset in people, for them to see how sacred and meaningful these bonds are, or to at least respect those who have those bonds.

For my own part I would like to take a moment and pause, to acknowledge this little death, that will go unremarked by many. To give thanks for the life this little dog had, for the joy it brought to my friend. For the nights it sat with her faithfully, giving kisses and cuddles. For the love it shared with her, for being her baby for the past 16 years and giving of everything it had until it passed. And I would like to give thanks for the millions of other little lives, just like this little dog, who will be remembered by only a few, but whose love and devotion made their worlds a much brighter place.

Confessions of a Bad Pagan: Sabbats

I have a hard time with all the Sabbats  (well ok, not Samhain). My first years of Paganism I was all gun ho and ready to go; I planned detailed rituals, spent weeks preparing for each Sabbat, shopping and stocking up on supplies. The day of the actual Sabbat my entire day revolved around the ritual. I sweated while I was away from home, worrying about everything that could go wrong, wondering if I had everything I needed. When I got home I would re-read my notes at least a dozen time and went over my supplies twice as much. By the time I actually performed the ritual I was so keyed up that it was hard for me to focus and get my words straight. After everything was done and cleaned up I would crash and sleep very deeply.

This went on for about two years or so until one Sabbat I got such a terrible flu that it was all I could do to light a candle and make it back to bed without collapsing. The Sabbat after that I was in the process of moving and couldn’t even find the box with my ritual supplies (my brother was thinking he was being funny and labeled that box as “Garden Supplies”) so I didn’t even so much as light incense for that one. The Sabbat after that, well I made a half hearted attempt at a ritual but just really didn’t want to. The anxiety I put myself through to be perfect at it was getting old.

Over the next few years I would try to “get back on the band wagon” and get into regular practice of Sabbats. Sometimes I would make it a few Sabbats in a row, trying rituals and ritual formats ad getting nothing out of it, before lapsing into non practice again. While I was in the group I was in I started practicing regularly again but each ritual felt… hollow. Between the rituals feeling hollow, not getting anything out of them and the desire to avoid the stress and drama (created by myself) I ended up not celebrating the Sabbats at all.

Over the past few months I have been taking a long hard look at myself, my life and my spirituality. I’ve been looking at the parts I want to change, the areas I want to improve and the things I want to throw out the window. My spirituality was on the list of things I wanted to improve and so I started to think I would start with the Sabbats again… or not. As soon as I started to try and think about Sabbat rituals and observances I felt blah, and did not want to do it. So instead of forcing myself to celebrate the Sabbats I decided to examine my feelings.

You see the truth of the matter is I really just don’t feel the Sabbats (again except for Samhain). I would go to all this trouble to plan and create these great rituals (which by the way I’ve discovered I’m not a fan of rituals as I have learned them, but a topic for another day), and get nothing out of it. Not exactly productive is it? Especially when you consider that the whole point of a Sabbat ritual is to honor the divine and connect with the energy of that Sabbat. Ok so epic fail on my part here.

Now I love the idea of the wheel of the year, and some of the ideas of the Sabbats, but the way they have been explained to me/read about is not making much sense to me. I was trying to get my celebrations to match these descriptions and it just wasn’t… working… for… me… DUMBASS! And then it hit me, I once again am trying to fit into this cookie cutter mold when my life and the seasons as I experience them totally do not fit the damn mold! For crying out loud I chose Paganism for the flexibility and not to follow any "Holy Book" and here I am still doing the same damn thing!?! I need some tea.... and to rethink how I approach each Sabbat.