New Year, New You - Prompt, "Lessons".

I've learned that some people actually read what I'm writing, and are interested (or perhaps just so horrified that they can't stop reading) in what I think about things.

I've learned that magic and the everyday are not separate for me, and not just in the slackass, "everything is maaaagickul!" way, either.

I've learned that outside motivation is damn near critical for me, and I dislike this about myself. I'm trying to figure out how to change this.

I'm nowhere close to where I want to be with my goals, but at least I haven't thrown up my hands and just given up. I may be plodding forward and/or moving erratically towards goals, but at least I'm moving. As for where I would like to be - well. I'd like to be at the barn four days a week, gainfully employed somewhere that doesn't crush my soul and make me consider homicide, doing my stuff with my training circle again, actually observing all esbats and sabbats, and maybe pursuing BTW a bit more diligently (or at least hanging out with Evn and Trothwy more than every four months). It's a tall order, I know. On the one hand, having a long to-do list motivates me, but it can also make me look at it, sigh "fuck it", and retreat to the computer to see what interesting stuff I can find on the net.

I'll give myself this next week or so off - I have a houseguest in a few hours (who's staying at least a week), and I know I won't get as much done while they're here. But then, Shoulder To The Wheel, Part 2.

New Year, New You - Prompt, "Asking For Help".

I've enlisted Second Husband's aid with The Stuff. Not that First Husband is disinterested, but after 12 hours at/getting to & from work, remembering to hound me about meditating or going to the barn or what-have-you is harder for him.

The barn's a wash today; it's cold and raining pretty hard and my legs are still killing me from Saturday's riding lesson (lots of trotting so as to help wear out the Pumpkin Pony for a younger, smaller rider who was on him next) and some ill-advised pole dancing later in the evening (don't ask).

The tapering-off of the smoking is frigging killing me, and while I'm not doing as well as I'd like, I'm doing something, at least.

I've also gotten help I didn't ask for. Co-Wife, seeing my struggles with the old laptop, surprised me with a new one on Thursday. It is tiny and beautiful and does no weird stuff and I love it. I also got an invite from our own Foundress of the Feast, Dropout Dilettante, to talk with her about glamour and what it means to me. Hopefully, I won't shock her too terribly or make her feel the need to call "Intervention".

But Co-Wife is out finding us a new fridge, so I'm off to sit by the phone in case I need to render assistance.

New Year, New You - Prompt, Shoulder to the Wheel.

I've been slackassing.

The diet/eating what I should be eating has been started and blown back out of the water repeatedly. I blame the holidays, numerous get-togethers, and my own annoying lack of discipline.

I haven't been out to the barn the three times a week I'd pledged at our family Yule sumbel.

Magic? Nope. Not a bit. Hell, I haven't even really been keeping up with the writing prompts - the one about glamour leaves me stymied anyway - I'm a barn girl who has to dig through all her jeans to find the one pair that isn't stained by various and sundry horsestuff.

So, of course, conversation with the Evil Voice has ensued.

ME: WTF is wrong with me? Why can't I get my ass out to the barn? The three times I've worked him since Yule, it's gone beautifully - hell, the summer off seems to have given him time to re-grasp certain concepts. I ought to be out there every day, singing a happy little song. Why can't I meditate every day? There's really nothing stopping me. And the diet? I mean, the not-fitting-in-half-my-clothes ought to be motivation.
EVIL VOICE: I don't know. But maybe it's harder than it needs to be because you aren't doing what you're supposed to be doing. Maybe you seriously need to get together with the Witches (aside from me: hi, Trothwy and Evn!) and talk about doing Crafting in the Craft once a week.
ME: (sighs) I know.
EVIL VOICE: Maybe you need to consider that giving your gods ten minutes after you've fed the cats every night is hardly a sacrifice or an unreachable goal.
ME: Dammnit, I know.
EVIL VOICE: So what's stopping you? Besides you, I mean.
ME: IknowIknowIknow.
(pause)
EVIL VOICE: You still here? Because it seems like your ass should no longer be in this chair.
ME: (slouches off, muttering dire imprecations about the Evil Voice)

This goes up on the bathroom mirror today -
"Grab it like somebody's trying to take it away from you, which is true: time and age and death and your own limiting voices and all the many more important and less selfish things you have to do today. Fuck 'em."
- Marion Winik, "The Sick Jock Guide - Ten Steps to Late-Life Fitness"

New Year, New You - Prompt, "Maps"; an Update.

I went to the woods. Later than I'd have liked, and due to a hard hide on Saturday morning, not where I might have liked, exactly. But First Husband found me a good place, and he and Second Husband and I all went into the woods for my Silent Time.

There were wrens. Scolding and fluttering as the dusk came, flitting around the exposed roots of the trees over the little dry-now creek where I sat. One bat, high up, chasing bugs. I didn't sit long - I didn't need to. I got told exactly what I thought I would; come back to us more often. We miss you. You need this. 


I do. And despite dogs and cats and horse and broken plumbing/fridges and friends who need an awful lot of help awfully frequently (there's going to be some unpleasantness about how often I'm available to drive people 100+ miles round-trip for doctors' appointments in the near future, I suspect), I need to go out there every weekend and remind myself how and why I became a witch in the first place.

New Year, New You - Prompt, "Maps"

"..the cities of the interior are vast and do not lie on any map." - J. Winterson, "The Passion"

It's time for the woods.

Never mind the fridge. Never mind the toilet. Never mind the laundry, the cooking and cleaning and all the other things that need to be done. I'm going off to the woods on Sunday to go sit and be quiet for a while. If anyone wants to come with me, they're welcome, but they'll be given to understand that there will be silence for a little while - phones off, no conversation, no explanations. I need to walk quietly, sit silently, hopefully up in a tree.

I grew up in the woods in upstate New York, and I have never really gotten used to living where I can't walk out the back door an be surrounded by trees. I wasn't made to be surrounded by all the unnatural sounds of modern life, at least not without frequent retreats to places where all I hear is birdsong, the wind in the trees, and wild animals doing what they do. And it's been far too long since I went back to one of the main things that sustains and renews my spirit.

"I can see night in the daytime/into the woods/I quietly go..." - The Call, "Into The Woods"

New Year, New You - Status update.

So far, so good - though not as good as I'd like.

The diet (though it's really about me revamping my eating habits so I'm eating what I should and not what I shouldn't - carbs really are my enemy) has been attempted and nuked repeatedly. I blame the holidays and a virulent stomach flu, but am getting back on the horse today. More protein. Less pasta. No tortilla chips. No excuses.

The holidays and various illnesses also nuked the magical assault on the Fridge From Hell, which despite being a pricey, three-year-old LG, is trying to die. This Friday, though, it gets the whammy. (Thanks to Frater R.O., who was kind enough to give me a PDF of his angelic grimoire and much helpful advice. I've got that horseshoe for you whenever you'd like it, good sir.)

I'm spinning and knitting and crocheting like a madwoman, and making really quick hats for cancer patients/allopecia patients. Now all I have to do is whip up a few more and find out where to donate them.

Second Husband, in addition to being the Food Police, is also going to be the Smoking Police. What with being on the Pill and over 35, I really need to quit. So we're tapering me off, which is sort-of how I stopped for a year two years ago (though being in the hospital after a nasty bout of appendicitis was helpful - narcotics make me crave citrus fruit and not care if I ever smoke again, apparently). Whining, nagging, and some grumpiness are in the forecast. I'll be supplementing this with some serious grounding and centering, and possibly some spellwork.

Pray for my Husbands and Co-Wife. They may need it.

A Brief Word of Thanks.

Until I took up Dropout Dilettante's New Year, New You challenge, I was writing this thing like I was just talking to myself. I thought people might read it, but that wasn't really important. Then DD commented on my NY, NY posts, and it was like I'd been out in the garden, talking to myself and the birds and the dogs and the plants, and all of a sudden this other voice floated over the fence, and I was glad.

So thanks for your comments. I hope you're enjoying reading this stuff, and I hope you stick around.

Prompt - Relax, Don't Do it.

I gave some thought to Dropout Dilettante's Prompt about not getting our energies mixed up in the hey-I-made-it-three-days-time-to-go-back-to-SSDD stuff that'll be floating around. This is proving helpful in a weird way. WARNING: possibly TMI Girl Stuff Ahead.

I had my annual well-woman visit today, and after talking with my Gyn, decided to give up on the Depo that's been making my life hell for the past year. I mean, two months with no horrifying (yes, my periods are justly described as horrifying) periods is great. A month of bleeding so much that I can't leave the house is not. So I did what the Good Doc suggested in the first place last year, and got a bunch of samples of a Pill geared towards women my age. I just gave up on the Depo. I quit.

I feel oddly liberated, though at the same time so frustrated by this ridiculous fertility thing that I can't think straight. I am 40, have not wanted children since I was 20 or so (and even then, when I'd think about being home with one all day, I'd shudder - a good indicator that I Should Not Breed, EVAR), and should not have to think about this. When the Good Doc told me that it's "not your uterus's fault" the Depo isn't working for me, I wanted to scream, "OH YES IT IS I'VE HAD THIS SINCE I WAS TEN AND ENOUGH IS ENOUGH".

But I refrained, despite reading Hunter S. Thompson while waiting for the Good Doc.

I was also rather taken aback by the news that I'll have to return to condoms for a month while the pills kick in, since his nurse, when she gave me some to stop the Depo bleeding in July, DIDN'T BOTHER TO MENTION THAT PILLS IN COMBINATION WITH DEPO COULD MAKE ME OVULATE.

Yeah. Let that sink in a minute. This woman didn't bother to tell a 40-year-old woman who's obviously avoiding pregnancy like the plague that this could get her knocked up. A NURSE. I need to have a chat about this with the Good Doc sometime soon, because I was so busy swallowing my own tongue with outrage that I couldn't manage it today.

And that was the other way I gave myself something nice, as DD suggested - I didn't do the necessary-and-effective-but-tiring thing of being the agent of a proper and deserved ass-reaming. You can thank me later, Incompetent Nurse. Because I went to the barn and tended my horse and then came home for a margarita instead of getting you in well-deserved trouble.

How does this have to do with anything magical, you ask? It doesn't, I suppose, except maybe as an example of knowing when to Relax, Don't Do It. Despite my Goal of tossing magic at situations, I know better than to try it here, because whether I like it or not, this is a natural process that needs to run its course with as little interference as possible - trying to blast my own womb, hate it though I do, cannot end up anywhere good. Call me a hypocrite if you will, since I belong to a fertility religion yet will take the Pill and Depo, but I'm not ready to make it stop through Any Means Necessary just yet.

The next gift I'm giving myself is Not Getting Shit Done for the rest of the day. Pbbbt, world.

The Voice in my head, patience and discipline.

There's a Voice in my head that pipes up sometimes. First Husband and I generally refer to it as the Evil Voice. It isn't actually evil - there's no telling me to maim/kill/insert violent or insane act here - but we call it the Evil Voice because if I told most people what it says about them, well, they'd call it evil. It's analytical as hell, unsentimental as all get-out, non-judgmental and objective*, and almost emotionless. When it tells me something about someone's motivations, it's right about 99% of the time. It seems to have no other purpose than kicking my ass and protecting me from people/things that are bad for me, including myself.

I had a conversation with it this morning.

I came downstairs this morning with Stinky Dog, only to find that the rather pricy, less-than-three-year-old LG fridge is not frigging working. Again. I put the Stinky Dog out, made coffee, and unplugged the stupid thing. Then I went outside with S.D. to enjoy the beautiful day and get my morning stimulants in (coffee and cigarette - yes, I know, it should just be the coffee). I turned on my laptop and started doing my daily rounds of witchy blog reading.

ME: Oooo. The Alchemist's Garden has a post about canning. Damn, that looks good. I wish I had the patience to learn how to do that.

EVIL VOICE: Maybe you need to get the patience by doing it.

ME: Shut up. The fridge is dying. I just got up.

EVIL VOICE: We get disciplined and patient by making ourselves do things that require discipline and patience.

ME: 'Cause that's not circular logic at all.

EVIL VOICE: This isn't getting your laundry done, at any rate.

ME:  I hate how you're always right. (gets out from behind laptop to tackle the laundry)


*This is why I'm pretty sure it's not just me being crazy or hallucinating; it just says what it sees/knows, with no values attached. Example: Say someone's behavior has been driving me nuts.

What the Evil Voice will pop up with: Well, that's because Person would rather deal with what they'd like to have happening instead of dealing with what is happening, and that's because X Y and/or Z.

What I pop up with in my own head, or talking to myself out loud: WTF BBQ AMA WHY CAN'T YOU DEAL WITH REALITY LIKE RIGHT THIS FRIGGING MINUTE. AAARGH!!!

You see the difference.

Addendum to Prompt #2/Putting Things Off.

I'd said, in my last post, that it was time to get serious and honest. Which leads me to reflect - and explain, possibly - about what I'm doing/not doing with magic.

I tend to think of doing magic in everything I do; when I cook, I stir widdershins to banish ill health and then deosil for good health, I ask the landwights at the barn to watch over the horses and keep them safe, I toss protective circles around the cars while we're driving. The Great Cleaning Frenzy Of Samhain '11 was not just organizing a lot of stuff that needed to be organized; it was an Edict from Them and an attempt to get the energy moving in the house in a more helpful, peaceful, prosperous way.

But is all this just the same New-Age flighty-wighty "everything is magicakl" crap a lot of us throw out there when we've been slackassing and don't want to admit it? I've never really been a daily-practice type of person. Should I be? Should I at least give it a try?

Yeah, probably.

So I've got another Goal; get to witching. Celebrate the Sabbats and esbats even if I'm sicker than a dog. Celebrate them even if everyone else is sicker than dogs and can't participate. Take fifteen minutes out of every day and hang a Do Not Disturb sign on them. When a problem starts to come up, do both the mundane and magical to solve it - without waiting for the point at which it becomes a critical situation.

Oh, and scrub the kitchen down again.

New Year, New You - Prompt #2, Goals.

It's time to get serious. And honest.

My knees are shot from 20 years (OK, 32, but who's counting?) of riding jumpers. Carrying 50 or 60 extra pounds around isn't helping. I'm being outridden by women twice my age in my lessons, and not because they're on dead-broke old school ponies while I'm riding the piss out of three-years olds.

Come the new year that everyone else goes by, it's time to lose weight. Seriously. I've done it before, I can do it again. I need to and I want to, and no-one's stopping me considering I'm Head Cook these days. So - Goal #1: serious weight loss.

My horse still isn't where he should be, and though I think taking this brutal summer off was smart, there's no reason I can't be out there three days a week getting him back on track. I may need someone there if I ride him, but I don't for groundwork. So Goal #2 - keep the oath I took at our Yule sumbel, and work him at least three days a week.

I've recently turned into a handspinning fiend, and I've taught myself crochet. But my usual slap-dash methods are only going to go so far, and there's a free group that meets twice a week at my local library. I need to be detail-oriented, follow patterns, learn the basics and then some advanced stuff before I start improvising. So Goal #3 - seek out other knitters/crocheters and learn from them.

Goal #4 is the same thing, only applied to magic. Get specific, get serious, get disciplined. Follow the recipe to the letter for once. Look at new methods and try them out the same way I'd approach a new riding discipline; find someone who knows more than me, and do what they say to do in the way they say to do it. Start using magic before a crisis occurs.

Overarching Goal - see what needs to be done, and do it with a Will of iron. How do I plan to back this up? With the loving nagging of the Husbands, and maybe some spellwork for success. Daily meditation to get into the habit of having a schedule again. Posting things on the household calendar so that everyone can see if I'm doing what I say I am/would; my sumbel vow affects everyone who was there, not just me, so there's incentive (besides not pissing off the gods with a broken vow) right there.

And now I'm off to crochet.

Prompt #1, Witchery, and Time Well Spent.

There's been witchery this evening, which is all I'll say about that, since I don't talk about What I'm Doing until it's done. There's reasons for that which I'll detail in a later post. But suffice it to say, I did Magical Stuff.

I did this Magical Stuff after being in the kitchen from 5 or so until 7:30. I am not only a Baby Cook, but also Rain Cook*; I must have my recipe available at all times. I must play music I like and have total control of. I must be able to make everyone else who is not cooking leave when I decide there are Too Many People in my kitchen. I must have complete and total dominion over the kitchen when I am cooking in it.

This is mostly tolerated because I am a vegetarian who makes a 2-pound meatloaf that kicks serious ass.

I keep saying I can't get into Ceremonial Magic because I'm not detail-oriented enough, but a grown woman who freaks out because she isn't in charge of every. Single. Step. of a recipe does not have problems with detail. Something else, yes. Detail, no.

I've approached cooking in exactly the opposite way that I learned to approach magic - magic is seat-of-my-ass, substitutions, intent-is-everything stuff. Cooking is ZOMG-if-I-try-something-different-I-will-ruin-$25-of-groceries-MUST-FOLLOW-TO-THE-LETTER stuff.

Do I need more cooking in my magic? Magic in my cooking? Probably some of each. And this all gets back to the kitchen becoming my Hearth, the Center of my home, our Axis Mundi, our Yggdrasil, the poto mitan, our Bile (that's an accented "i" that I don't know how to make). The kitchen is where I say my most fervent prayers these days, spending hours making food I hope everyone will love - food that I hope will not only be nutritious but delicious (because if it don't taste good, we ain't eatin' it). It is where I thank First Husband for working all day at a job he doesn't exactly love. It is where I pray my Co-Wife will feel well enough to eat some of whatever-it-is. It is where Second Husband and I are continuing to learn how to work together on things. It is where I thank the Gods that we have food, and pray that those who do not may be nourished somehow.

It took me two-and-a-half hours to make seitan, meatloaf, casserole, and mashed potatoes, and my family's delighted nomming made it Time Well Spent.

I think I have enough magic in the kitchen. It's time to bring it to the rest of my house and life.

*Like Rain Man, but with food instead of numbers.

New Year, New You - New Witchery

The Dropout Dilettante has created the "New Year, New You" experiment at the urging of her Muse (the description of her Muse and their relationship is only funny because it sounds so familiar).

I haven't been doing nearly enough magic. It's like the vacuuming; I keep telling myself that I'm going to get on a schedule, get serious, get disciplined, but then the dog barfs/the toilet backs up/someone gets sick/I have to go find wool roving to feed my new hand-spinning obsession...Yeah.

I don't think magic cures everything. But to paraphrase my good and wise friend Trothwy, what's the point of being a witch if you aren't going to use magic to make things just a little easier? Spellwork may not get me the job I'm currently hoping for, but it might bring something even better. It certainly can't hurt (I know the provisos to throw in to avoid those unfortunate situations where you get what you want and then realize it sucks). Why not ward my saddle for safe rides? Why not ward the cars for safe journeys and fewer repairs? How about a little charm for health in the kitchen?

I agree with Dropout Dilettante's Muse: it's time to start making my own luck.