Each year I like to look back over the previous year, and then set goals for the coming year. Many people do this on Jan 1st; I prefer to do it on my birthday. I often refine the accomplishments and goals until my new year, Samhain, but the bulk of the work is done on or around my birthday.
This year we hosted a Jolabokaflod party, and it will be the genesis for future traditions!
We put together a brunch, invited friends, and gave them the rules:
It was fabulous!
I’m spending Mabon literally in the middle of an orchard. I’m in Italy and all around me they are harvesting apples and pears (the peaches were last week, melons the week before). The house we are staying in is 100s of years old and has been in the same family all of that time. There is a pomegranate tree in the garden, and I’m delighted to see one ‘in the wild’ because it’s so entirely new for me. When we aren’t cooking for ourselves, my husband and I venture uot to one of many local places where we are often the only Americans, if not the only ones speaking something other than Italian. We do our best to expand our vocabulary and laugh when they switch to English because we just aren’t very good at it.
Each year I like to look back over the previous year, and then set goals for the coming year. Many people do this on Jan 1st; I prefer to do it on my birthday. I often refine the accomplishments and goals until my new year, Samhain, but the bulk of the work is done on or around my birthday.
I also like to do a tarot reading (that post is here, which opens a .pdf file).
One of our ‘rules’ is that getting to a foreign country is so expensive that we want to stay there as long as possible. Another rule is that we each pack only a piece of luggage small enough to carry on, and a personal bag. Yet another rule is that we do our best to dress like locals. This means we have to get creative about what — and how — we pack.
Everyone knows the phrase ‘fair weather friend’ — the ‘friend’ who is only around and interested in you when when circumstances are pleasant or profitable. If the going gets tough or tricky, they just completely disappear. Not many consider that the opposite type is also possible.
A Statement of My World View
In my world:
Who you choose to be your sexual partner does not define you.
Who you choose to love does not define you.
Whether you choose to have sex, or not does not define you.
What you do to earn money does not define you.
Whether you earn money for your labor does not define you.
Whether you believe in ‘deity’ in any form, duality, presence, or religious framework does not define you.
What color your skin is does not define you.
What school you got a degree from does not define you.
What level of degree (grade, high, bachelor’s, etc.) you have been awarded does not define you.
What gender you are does not define you.
Whether you have suffered violence does not define you.
In my world:
You are shaped by your thoughts and feelings.
You influence others through your expression (whether verbal, visual, or written).
How you treat others defines you.
What you do with your life defines you.
What you choose to do in response to others defines you.
Everyone is ‘other’ which is wonderful and a constant opportunity to learn.
We are all in progress, not perfect, and the journey is the process.
I recognize that my world is not THE world. In no way does my worldview accept ‘color blindness’ or ‘erasure’ or any kind of dismissal as acceptable. In recognizing the disparity between my worldview and ‘reality’ I offer my space — at home, work, online, teaching — as safe for everyone as long as they agree that different is not threatening, lesser, or to be cast out.
Fear can be unlearned; but it’s not on those you fear to help you. (They’ve got enough to deal with already.)
Hate cannot be tolerated.
(I almost can’t write this, I still feel intense shame.)
There were two times in my my life when I was poor enough to feel actual physical hunger. The first was when my parents first separated and I was living with my mother in a commune in Berkeley (CA).* I’d been wrested from a typical middle-class (white) suburban lifestyle full of meat and bread in unlimited quantities and thrust willy-nilly into a hippie commune. No sugar. Homemade bread. No meat, except when we killed a chicken or rabbit. Nothing processed.
I hated it.
Seven ago today I began a process of deliberately poisoning my body; in the medical profession this is called chemotherapy.
It was the toughest thing I have ever done in my life. Partly because it wasn’t a one time even, but a whole series of sessions. And it got worse as time went on.
