Yesterday afternoon I sent my cats to sleep.
Morpheus was 17 (18 in December), and Shasta was 15 (16, also in December). There are many things I could write, and one day I will. But for now, I am sad and relieved.
It was done with kindness, it was done in love.
From “Thank God for the Minneapolis Bridge Collapse” — found at Reverend Phelps’ “God Hates Fags” website:
“We know Minneapolis and Minnesota very well having picketed there many times. Twice they stole our picket signs — violently, and right out of our hands — on the public sidewalk in front of The Basilica of St. Mary, 88 N. 17th St., Minneapolis, MN – as the police looked on and laughed. Typical Minnesotans. We want our property back. That area of Minneapolis is like the fag-dominated Castro District of San Francisco. There are no First Amendment rights in Minneapolis, because all fags are filthy and lawless (2 Pet. 2:7,8). They died at the Bridge for the fag sins of Minneapolis in persecuting WBC s missionaries. Worse and more is coming from the Lord our God. Better give our signs back.”
Protest the protestors. Let the dead rest in peace.
There’s been a lot of name-calling, just-this-side-of-slander/libel (I can’t remember which is in print and which is verbal, and given the current state of confusion about what constitutes verbal and written when posting on a blog, I’m going to leave it as it is), and general ill-will.
All of the authors who were to present at the RWB have withdrawn and so the event has become “AJ’s Ball.” In a community where it can be very difficult to find solidarity, this is an impressive show of support — for NOT condoning magick with a negative purpose. Let me be clear: this is not support of the Frosts, it is a condemnation of ritual sacrifice of two people (or their ‘followers’) who have not agreed to be the sacrifice.
I’m not much of one for physical sacrifice in a ritual setting. I’ve burned paper, buried stones, poured out water . . . but the only time I sacrificed blood was my own, for a private ritual, and I’ve only ever used poppets for healing. Perhaps the burning of effigies is common to ‘football games and high school rallies’ (as AJ has stated) but I’ve never seen it. And I’m not sure I would have stayed if I had.
Using violence to change the way things are is often a way to become a terrorist. I’m Irish, and I’ve always supported the withdrawal of the English from Northern Ireland. But I have never supported the IRA’s terrorist tactics against ordinary people. I see the need for the warrior, the sad necessity of occasionally going to war — but wars need to be fought only between warriors, and not include their kin, their homes, or the innocents.
Solstice, one of the moderators on the paganantion boards, and a main person in the ritual (now called the sacrifice to caring) contacted me and discussed the ritual with me. I am oathbound not to reveal any details, but what she told me differs GREATLY from the original statements, and intentions, of AJ Drew. The evolving ritual focuses less on individuals and more on harmful actions, for one thing.
So much so, that I offered suggestions for clarity, and may even join the planning committee. (They are discussing it.) This is not a ‘done deal’ but a furtherance of a healing of this community. As a priestess, if I can do so, I must.
It may all come to naught, but I am bound by my oaths to try and trust in the God/dess that it will all come out for the best.
I was accepted to speak at this year’s Real Witches Ball in Columbus OH and had agreed to do three workshops for them. This is a conversation I’ve been having over the course of several weeks with Solstice, their scheduling liaison.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20070628/wl_africa_afp/egyptwomencircumcision
Just starting with: its obscene that we need to ‘ban’ female circumcision. Sometimes I hate this world, or at least some of the people in it.
w00t!!!! My article “Coming Together: A Look at Pagan Group Structures” is now up at Witchvox.
I’ll be updating the look of the site in honor of Beltane, but it’ll be delayed a few days as I am in the UK. I should get to it this coming weekend.
Magickal Connections is on the front page of WitchVox (http://www.witchvox.com).
w00t!
edit: it’s one of several books rotating on the front page. More importantly, its had 60k+ hits. My other two combined didn’t break 2k. *happy dance*
I really can’t abide anyone who claims to be a christian. This goes double for “catholics,†“Presbyterians†or anyone whose religion takes more than 6 letters to spell (or two syllables). Mostly this is because I grew up in the NorthEast (US) which, along with bureaucrats and homosexuals, has a disproportionately high number of smug catholics who seem to regard contemplating a bloody man as an act of religious piety (come to think of it, these three things frequently overlap) . . . I have come to the conclusion that christians are evil, not because they have a hard time doing as much good in the world as they seem to think others should do, but because they have such appalling taste. I mean, take care of the poor, promote abstinence, and go to church on Sundays. But do you have to do it while wearing tweed jackets, frumpy dresses, and hats that belong to an age almost half a century ago?
I’m making a point here. The above is a re-write of the below paragraph with one word (and its associations) changed. It would have been even more pointed had I used African-American instead of ‘christian,’ wouldn’t it?
“I really can’t abide anyone who claims to be a pagan. This goes double for “witches”, “wiccans” or anyone who spells “magic” with a “k”. Mostly this is because I grew up in Canberra which, along with public servants and lesbians, has a disproportionately high number of smug hippies who seem to regard recycling as an act of religious piety (come to think of it, the three things frequently overlap)… I have come to the conclusion that pagans are evil — not because they get in touch with the devil or warp the minds of the young or are responsible for more bad heavy metal art than anyone else, but because they have such appalling taste. I mean, sure, get in touch with the Great Spirit, run through the woods and kill a goat. But do you have to do it while wearing crushed velvet harem pants, Robin Hood shoes, pentagram jewelery and a purple satin cape?”
From: “Bring back the witch hunt†by Brendan Shanahan, printed in Australia’s Daily Telegraph, March 2, 2007. http://www.news.com.au/dailytelegraph/story/0,22049,21308511-5001031,00.html
(My thanks to The Wild Hunt blog for pointing this out.)
J. turns 35 in May, and that is a milestone birthday (in my view). So I decided to give him his dream vacation. Unbeknownst to him, in early December I purchased airplane tickets, a hotel room, and center-theatre 8th row seats for Mary Poppins . . . in London.
Since then I’ve been a mistress of mis-direction and outright lies.
Oh, I laid a clever path. In January I “confessed” that I was going to take him on a trip for his birthday — to DC. That covered the need for a week’s worth of packing, taking time from work, and prevented him from making any other plans during that time. I’ve held simultaneous conversations with his parents, in one email telling them how nice it would be if they joined us in DC; in another, telling them the true plans for the trip. We talked about seeing the symphony and going out of town to visit various Civil War sites.
I was a clever girl.
But I can’t keep a secret. Lying is intrinsically foreign to my nature. Last night over dinner, I broke. I just couldn’t keep it in, and he spotted the glow. He guessed I was keeping a secret, and he even let me off the hook to tell him what it was. But the words just popped out before I could dissemble or prevaricate.
“Would you mind if we didn’t go to DC for your birthday?”
“Of course not. We’d have to tell my parents.”
“They already know. Because you’ll be spending that week in London. I hope that is ok?”
He just looked at me. For a long moment I almost started to worry that I’d done this wrong. That somehow I had really misunderstood. “I’ve gone too far” I thought.
His smile was what I needed to see right then, and I got it. He was, he told me later, really sorry he’d made me worry, but I’d just given him his dream and he couldn’t quite believe it.
It was a good thing we were finished with dinner because he wanted to get right home (our other plans were no longer interesting). He had planning to do!
And I am downright smug. Oh, I wish I could have held to my plan to keep it a secret for another 2 months, until we got to the airport to pick up the rental car and instead went to the international terminal. That would have been a perfect surprise, and a fantastic story.
But this way he gets to plan and dream and revel in the happiness for a few extra months.
I win. 🙂