While noshing and waiting for a miserable sinus headache to go away so I can continue the CLEAN ALL THE THINGS gulag, I was reading a Strategic Sorcery post about Raven Grimassi. And down in the comments, I found a link.
Of course I clicked. How could I not? Ah. Werewolves. Werewolves with Principles of Belief, no less. Thirteen of them! Thirteen of them...which look really familiar....HEY, WAIT A SEC: Thirteen Principles of Wiccan Belief .
Well, the werewolves did change some words and phrases, but I think you could still call them Wereplagiarists, as there's none of that pesky source attribution or anything like that.
And now I am going to go take some drugs and have a lie-down. This kind of crap always makes a headache worse.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Friday, October 14, 2011
Altar/Alter
I am a spelling and grammar fiend.
I don't take it as far as some folks; one typo/misspelling/lack of punctuation isn't enough to send me to the comments section/reply button in order to completely ignore the content while I bash someone to death with Strunk & White. I don't assume a lack of proper grammar means that someone has nothing useful to say. Some people just never get punctuation, some people have dysgraphia/dyslexia/what-have-you, some people were busy doing much more interesting things in 8th grade while the rest of us were in class learning to parse sentences.
It does make it harder for me to read stuff when it's not "right", and my brain will refuse to go on until I have let it correct every "mistake" it sees. I am OCD about very few things, but this is one of them.
I've been reading another blog, Ex Libris Hieronyma, which I really like. Her misspelling of "alter" for "altar" was driving me a little nuts, until I considered the following possibility: if we witch-types do magic at our altars, thus altering things, maybe "alter" isn't the mistake I thought it was. At the moment, I have an altar at which I'm not doing any work; I'm just sitting at it and talking to my various gods. I have an altar in the temple/study where most of the work seems to be going on these days; maybe that's my "alter".
Too cutesy? Too much of that "language means what we make it mean" thing, when I think that most of us know that the words matter? Eh. Maybe you're right. But I had a new thought and got a new perspective, and I can't think of that as anything other than a good thing.
I don't take it as far as some folks; one typo/misspelling/lack of punctuation isn't enough to send me to the comments section/reply button in order to completely ignore the content while I bash someone to death with Strunk & White. I don't assume a lack of proper grammar means that someone has nothing useful to say. Some people just never get punctuation, some people have dysgraphia/dyslexia/what-have-you, some people were busy doing much more interesting things in 8th grade while the rest of us were in class learning to parse sentences.
It does make it harder for me to read stuff when it's not "right", and my brain will refuse to go on until I have let it correct every "mistake" it sees. I am OCD about very few things, but this is one of them.
I've been reading another blog, Ex Libris Hieronyma, which I really like. Her misspelling of "alter" for "altar" was driving me a little nuts, until I considered the following possibility: if we witch-types do magic at our altars, thus altering things, maybe "alter" isn't the mistake I thought it was. At the moment, I have an altar at which I'm not doing any work; I'm just sitting at it and talking to my various gods. I have an altar in the temple/study where most of the work seems to be going on these days; maybe that's my "alter".
Too cutesy? Too much of that "language means what we make it mean" thing, when I think that most of us know that the words matter? Eh. Maybe you're right. But I had a new thought and got a new perspective, and I can't think of that as anything other than a good thing.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Kitchen Witchery?
I didn't learn to cook anything more significant than Ramen, scrambled eggs/omelets, or grilled cheese sandwiches* until I was thirty-eight. The few times I tried, disaster ensued - the most notable of which included Irish Stew With Enough Cloves To Induce Instant Numbness and The Beanloaf That Would Not Die. I had no idea how much spice to put in anything and was lost without a recipe.
One evening, for no reason I can discern, I took it into my head to make vegetarian chili. Having been in Texas for eight years and eaten enough Mexican food to qualify for some kind of honorary citizenship in said county, I thought I could figure out what it ought to taste like, and how to make that happen.
I actually succeeded, and despite the lack of meat, the First Husband was mightily pleased. This is how I started cooking. My repertoire is limited to what I call Mexican Stuff, Italian Stuff, Asian Stuff, and WASP Stuff (casseroles and meatloaf - I, the vegetarian, can and do make a wicked meatloaf. It is 2lbs of beefy goodness, apparently), but neither of the Husbands or my Housemate/Co-Wife To Be seem to mind.
What does this have to do with witchcraft, you ask? Well, the kitchen seems to be turning into my Hearth. I got marching orders from Them about getting the house in order by Samhain, and the kitchen has been the focus of most of my efforts. I am now rather possessive of the countertops, somewhat retentive about dirty dishes actually going into the dishwasher and not just into the sink, and now consider sweeping inadequate for floor maintenance (think Shop-Vac).
Maybe it's all the cooking I've been doing recently. Maybe it's that the kitchen is where everyone's preferences and needs have to be taken into account and balanced on a daily basis. Maybe it's that cooking is still a little like alchemy for me (look, turning meat into food is turning lead into gold for an aesthetic vegetarian). But there is definitely something going on down there, and I can't wait to see where it takes me.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go soak some beans.
*I did, however, manage to produce baked goods like a fiend, including a Venus of Willendorf Cookie for Cakes and Ale. Go figure.
One evening, for no reason I can discern, I took it into my head to make vegetarian chili. Having been in Texas for eight years and eaten enough Mexican food to qualify for some kind of honorary citizenship in said county, I thought I could figure out what it ought to taste like, and how to make that happen.
I actually succeeded, and despite the lack of meat, the First Husband was mightily pleased. This is how I started cooking. My repertoire is limited to what I call Mexican Stuff, Italian Stuff, Asian Stuff, and WASP Stuff (casseroles and meatloaf - I, the vegetarian, can and do make a wicked meatloaf. It is 2lbs of beefy goodness, apparently), but neither of the Husbands or my Housemate/Co-Wife To Be seem to mind.
What does this have to do with witchcraft, you ask? Well, the kitchen seems to be turning into my Hearth. I got marching orders from Them about getting the house in order by Samhain, and the kitchen has been the focus of most of my efforts. I am now rather possessive of the countertops, somewhat retentive about dirty dishes actually going into the dishwasher and not just into the sink, and now consider sweeping inadequate for floor maintenance (think Shop-Vac).
Maybe it's all the cooking I've been doing recently. Maybe it's that the kitchen is where everyone's preferences and needs have to be taken into account and balanced on a daily basis. Maybe it's that cooking is still a little like alchemy for me (look, turning meat into food is turning lead into gold for an aesthetic vegetarian). But there is definitely something going on down there, and I can't wait to see where it takes me.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go soak some beans.
*I did, however, manage to produce baked goods like a fiend, including a Venus of Willendorf Cookie for Cakes and Ale. Go figure.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Money and/or Clergy.
How do you know when you're being legitimately charged money in the magical world?
Some traditions forbid charging for rituals, workings, training, or initiations. Some expect payment for any or all of the above.
Having a general knowledge of the religion/system is probably a good first line of defense. Payment is usually expected for hoodoo workings, from what I understand (which is admittedly little). A psychic, card reader, or palm reader is someone who, regardless of their belief system, will almost always expect to be paid. Voudoun and Santeria require the initiate-to-be to pay for their initiations.
Why is this? I think there are two reasons. The Dropout Dilettante has some good ideas; see her recent post, Etiquette Lesson: Magic Is Not For Free (Sometimes). She likens paying for magical services like spellwork to being no different than paying doctors, lawyers, or other service providers, and I generally agree with her.
Where I disagree is when she compares asking your friends who do magic to do so for free to bitching at your friend instead of seeing a shrink. Magic-using people tend to know one another, and I can't imagine friends not reading the cards or runes for me any more than I can imagine not whipping up a charm bag for them. Hell, I've done handfastings for free because the people involved were friends-who-are-family (and these were not "read-from-a-prewritten ceremony" handfastings, folks - these were customized within an inch of their lives). On the other hand, these people came to my house and checked some dodgy wiring, taught me to cook some vegan specialties, and did other things for me and mine. Maybe the difference is that I do these things for free for people with whom I have a give-and-take relationship in the first place.
I don't charge for my training circles; my tradition forbids me to do so. Even if it didn't, I'd still do it for free because I'm not professional clergy, and that's where the big difference lies for me. Traditions that charge for spellwork or initiations tend to be those where the clergy are professionals - this is what they do, 24/7, 365. If they didn't charge money, they wouldn't eat or have a home. Their communities are supporting them in the same way a Catholic priest or Unitarian minister is supported so that they can do the type of work that a clergyperson of this sort is expected to do.
Now, I did say "tend to" up there, and I know some of you are thinking, "Well, what about people who do spellwork for others, but still have a day job/trust fund/etc?" I'd take those on a case-by-case basis. Is someone charging an exorbitant fee? Do they have a sliding scale? Do their patrons need to come back frequently, spending even more money each time? Do other practitioners in the area seem to charge similar fees for similar services? Is this usual in their tradition, and do they even have one?
In magic, I think we should approach the question of money from the viewpoint of "buyer be aware."
Some traditions forbid charging for rituals, workings, training, or initiations. Some expect payment for any or all of the above.
Having a general knowledge of the religion/system is probably a good first line of defense. Payment is usually expected for hoodoo workings, from what I understand (which is admittedly little). A psychic, card reader, or palm reader is someone who, regardless of their belief system, will almost always expect to be paid. Voudoun and Santeria require the initiate-to-be to pay for their initiations.
Why is this? I think there are two reasons. The Dropout Dilettante has some good ideas; see her recent post, Etiquette Lesson: Magic Is Not For Free (Sometimes). She likens paying for magical services like spellwork to being no different than paying doctors, lawyers, or other service providers, and I generally agree with her.
Where I disagree is when she compares asking your friends who do magic to do so for free to bitching at your friend instead of seeing a shrink. Magic-using people tend to know one another, and I can't imagine friends not reading the cards or runes for me any more than I can imagine not whipping up a charm bag for them. Hell, I've done handfastings for free because the people involved were friends-who-are-family (and these were not "read-from-a-prewritten ceremony" handfastings, folks - these were customized within an inch of their lives). On the other hand, these people came to my house and checked some dodgy wiring, taught me to cook some vegan specialties, and did other things for me and mine. Maybe the difference is that I do these things for free for people with whom I have a give-and-take relationship in the first place.
I don't charge for my training circles; my tradition forbids me to do so. Even if it didn't, I'd still do it for free because I'm not professional clergy, and that's where the big difference lies for me. Traditions that charge for spellwork or initiations tend to be those where the clergy are professionals - this is what they do, 24/7, 365. If they didn't charge money, they wouldn't eat or have a home. Their communities are supporting them in the same way a Catholic priest or Unitarian minister is supported so that they can do the type of work that a clergyperson of this sort is expected to do.
Now, I did say "tend to" up there, and I know some of you are thinking, "Well, what about people who do spellwork for others, but still have a day job/trust fund/etc?" I'd take those on a case-by-case basis. Is someone charging an exorbitant fee? Do they have a sliding scale? Do their patrons need to come back frequently, spending even more money each time? Do other practitioners in the area seem to charge similar fees for similar services? Is this usual in their tradition, and do they even have one?
In magic, I think we should approach the question of money from the viewpoint of "buyer be aware."
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Witchery! And Some Tasty Little Muffins.
I went to a discussion group about an actual Book O' Witchery today; just me, my notebook, the book under discussion, and a bunch of maps (in case I got lost, because while I do not get lost int he woods, I can get bamboozled while driving in a trice).
It was excellent, and I can't wait to go back next week.
I forgot how nice it is to talk about this stuff with my peers (OK, maybe not "peers" exactly, because I think these lovely folks are more than a little bit ahead of me); it's mostly been new folk for the past year or so. I didn't have to explain anything! I didn't have to convince anyone that it is highly unlikely that they were actually talking to [insert mythological critter here]! Nobody was trying to tell me shit that was provably false!
I really needed this - new perspectives, new people, and getting inspired to start doing some actual witchcraft again. I've been focusing on my training group, among other things, to the point of neglecting my own practice.
It's going to be a witchy fall.
It was excellent, and I can't wait to go back next week.
I forgot how nice it is to talk about this stuff with my peers (OK, maybe not "peers" exactly, because I think these lovely folks are more than a little bit ahead of me); it's mostly been new folk for the past year or so. I didn't have to explain anything! I didn't have to convince anyone that it is highly unlikely that they were actually talking to [insert mythological critter here]! Nobody was trying to tell me shit that was provably false!
I really needed this - new perspectives, new people, and getting inspired to start doing some actual witchcraft again. I've been focusing on my training group, among other things, to the point of neglecting my own practice.
It's going to be a witchy fall.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
A Sense of Calm.
A book about snake-handling Christians is the impetus for today's post.
See, this journalist goes off to cover a possible murder amongst snake-handlers in Salvation At Sand Mountain, and winds up handling snakes with them. He says, at one point, that he doesn't like, as a journalist, to put too much of himself in a story. And yet a lot of the book seems to be about his longing to discover his roots, his ambivalence about the snake-handlers, and general spiritual navel-gazing. I liked it, but I kept thinking, this would have been so much better if Wade Davis had written it.
That would be Wade Davis of The Serpent and the Rainbow, which is about Mr. Davis going to Haiti to find out what chemicals make zombies in the hope of discovering a safer form of anesthesia and winding up an initiate.
Why would this make a difference? Well, Mr. Davis seems to simply accept Voudoun. There's none of the pesky oh look at the silly uneducated people who don't know about science tone of previous anthropological works. He wasn't trying to resolve any personal spiritual conflicts. He went, he saw, he accepted. Mr. Covington, of Sand Mountain, on the other hand, seems to make the snake-handling about his own conflicts. There is, as they say, a certain amount of drama about the whole thing.
This led me to think about the quality of calm that so many pagans seem to lack.
Priestess, priest, what-have-you - if you're in this position, if you carry this title, shouldn't your life resemble something other than a DMZ? We all have our problems, but shouldn't you have your shit together a bit before you represent yourself as being some sort of spiritual leader? Shouldn't a spiritual leader lack the kind of unresolved issues that are visible from space? Shouldn't your circle/coven/etc be free from people with, say, severe legal issues?
Let me give you an example. One that may land my ass in some sort of shitstorm. One that's been weighing on my mind for a few months.
A certain pagan group I know has a member who was forbidden to be near children after accusations of child molestation. A person in this group has told me that he does not think the accused actually molested any children, but may have done something with someone legally underage. Now, one of the other members of this group (not a newbie, but a Priestess) doesn't want to celebrate Fall Solstice because the accused will be there - and so will under-eighteen persons (you know, that he's not supposed to be near).
This group is plagued with conflict. I won't even get into the story about how the group fell apart for a few years. Suffice it to say, the male leadership keeping their penii in their pants seems to be a recurring problem.
But.
Certain people are required by law to report incidences of suspected child abuse. As an ordained minister, am I one of them? Should I be calling this guy's parole officer and telling them that I think this dude is at religious services where children are present, even if I don't think he's molesting anyone? Should I be hexing his winkie right the hell off if he even looks at a seventeen-year-old-girl funny?
Probably. I'm still trying to decide how to go about it, really. I am friends with some people in this dysfunctional little band, and I'd like to do this in a way that lets me stay friends with them, because they are newbies, don't know any better, and there is the chance that this guy was unjustly accused.
The point of all this, however, is that I can't take this group seriously anymore. There's constant drama, conflict between the members, and the lack of a general sense of calm. One member is a submissive who can't find a decent guy, and it's not because she's a submissive; it's because she's so terrified of being alone that she makes bad decisions. Another still hasn't resolved some pretty big Mom Issues. Another decided that she was ready to be a priestess - and wanted to ask me what to do a month later when she was supposedly getting messages from dead people. Two seem to think that not paying rent and getting thrown out by landlords is just the landlords being mean.
There's no sense of cause and effect. There's no sense that they know their issues and are working on them. There's chaos and drama and what looks like a whole lot of running away from anything they don't want to face. These are not qualities we as pagans need in our clergy. Hell, if these people saw Christians on a reality TV show doing exactly the same things, they'd be laughing and crowing over the hypocrisy of it all.
A good pagan/Wiccan/witch knows what's wrong within and tries to fix it before they start looking without. They may be poor financially, but they should be rich in spirit. They try to resolve conflict. They try to be patient - as my ordaining priestess said, "You will get people who are seeking. You have to be nice even if they're stupid". They have more on the ball than not. Their relationships generally tend to be stable and healthy. They work to change unjust laws rather than just breaking them because "they're dumb" (and then wailing about it when they get caught). They are neither takers nor givers, but somewhere in-between. They honor commitments unless they have a damn good reason not to. When you're around them, you should feel tranquil and happy rather than dreading the next storm.
As a certain bunch of other people say, by their works shall ye know them.
See, this journalist goes off to cover a possible murder amongst snake-handlers in Salvation At Sand Mountain, and winds up handling snakes with them. He says, at one point, that he doesn't like, as a journalist, to put too much of himself in a story. And yet a lot of the book seems to be about his longing to discover his roots, his ambivalence about the snake-handlers, and general spiritual navel-gazing. I liked it, but I kept thinking, this would have been so much better if Wade Davis had written it.
That would be Wade Davis of The Serpent and the Rainbow, which is about Mr. Davis going to Haiti to find out what chemicals make zombies in the hope of discovering a safer form of anesthesia and winding up an initiate.
Why would this make a difference? Well, Mr. Davis seems to simply accept Voudoun. There's none of the pesky oh look at the silly uneducated people who don't know about science tone of previous anthropological works. He wasn't trying to resolve any personal spiritual conflicts. He went, he saw, he accepted. Mr. Covington, of Sand Mountain, on the other hand, seems to make the snake-handling about his own conflicts. There is, as they say, a certain amount of drama about the whole thing.
This led me to think about the quality of calm that so many pagans seem to lack.
Priestess, priest, what-have-you - if you're in this position, if you carry this title, shouldn't your life resemble something other than a DMZ? We all have our problems, but shouldn't you have your shit together a bit before you represent yourself as being some sort of spiritual leader? Shouldn't a spiritual leader lack the kind of unresolved issues that are visible from space? Shouldn't your circle/coven/etc be free from people with, say, severe legal issues?
Let me give you an example. One that may land my ass in some sort of shitstorm. One that's been weighing on my mind for a few months.
A certain pagan group I know has a member who was forbidden to be near children after accusations of child molestation. A person in this group has told me that he does not think the accused actually molested any children, but may have done something with someone legally underage. Now, one of the other members of this group (not a newbie, but a Priestess) doesn't want to celebrate Fall Solstice because the accused will be there - and so will under-eighteen persons (you know, that he's not supposed to be near).
This group is plagued with conflict. I won't even get into the story about how the group fell apart for a few years. Suffice it to say, the male leadership keeping their penii in their pants seems to be a recurring problem.
But.
Certain people are required by law to report incidences of suspected child abuse. As an ordained minister, am I one of them? Should I be calling this guy's parole officer and telling them that I think this dude is at religious services where children are present, even if I don't think he's molesting anyone? Should I be hexing his winkie right the hell off if he even looks at a seventeen-year-old-girl funny?
Probably. I'm still trying to decide how to go about it, really. I am friends with some people in this dysfunctional little band, and I'd like to do this in a way that lets me stay friends with them, because they are newbies, don't know any better, and there is the chance that this guy was unjustly accused.
The point of all this, however, is that I can't take this group seriously anymore. There's constant drama, conflict between the members, and the lack of a general sense of calm. One member is a submissive who can't find a decent guy, and it's not because she's a submissive; it's because she's so terrified of being alone that she makes bad decisions. Another still hasn't resolved some pretty big Mom Issues. Another decided that she was ready to be a priestess - and wanted to ask me what to do a month later when she was supposedly getting messages from dead people. Two seem to think that not paying rent and getting thrown out by landlords is just the landlords being mean.
There's no sense of cause and effect. There's no sense that they know their issues and are working on them. There's chaos and drama and what looks like a whole lot of running away from anything they don't want to face. These are not qualities we as pagans need in our clergy. Hell, if these people saw Christians on a reality TV show doing exactly the same things, they'd be laughing and crowing over the hypocrisy of it all.
A good pagan/Wiccan/witch knows what's wrong within and tries to fix it before they start looking without. They may be poor financially, but they should be rich in spirit. They try to resolve conflict. They try to be patient - as my ordaining priestess said, "You will get people who are seeking. You have to be nice even if they're stupid". They have more on the ball than not. Their relationships generally tend to be stable and healthy. They work to change unjust laws rather than just breaking them because "they're dumb" (and then wailing about it when they get caught). They are neither takers nor givers, but somewhere in-between. They honor commitments unless they have a damn good reason not to. When you're around them, you should feel tranquil and happy rather than dreading the next storm.
As a certain bunch of other people say, by their works shall ye know them.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Crazy Fundie Friday!
She's Cindy Jacobs, and she's a nutburger. Observe!: http://www.rightwingwatch.org/content/jacobs-response-broke-curse-native-american-cannibals
That jacket is horrible. If I didn't know better, I'd swear the Landover Baptist folks were just pulling the best prank of all.
Whether "Crazy Fundie Friday" will become a regular thing, I can't say. It might get too depressing, 'cause gods know I'd never run out of material. On the other hand, I hadn't heard of her until I saw a bit about her on The Wild Hunt, which does a great job of keeping us posted about such Fundie doings (among other nifty things).
I also decided to yank the "O NOES ADULT STUFFS POSSIBLY WITH TEH SEX!!" warning. I felt like I was participating in the Shrink-Wrapping Of Everything, and I want no part of that.
That jacket is horrible. If I didn't know better, I'd swear the Landover Baptist folks were just pulling the best prank of all.
Whether "Crazy Fundie Friday" will become a regular thing, I can't say. It might get too depressing, 'cause gods know I'd never run out of material. On the other hand, I hadn't heard of her until I saw a bit about her on The Wild Hunt, which does a great job of keeping us posted about such Fundie doings (among other nifty things).
I also decided to yank the "O NOES ADULT STUFFS POSSIBLY WITH TEH SEX!!" warning. I felt like I was participating in the Shrink-Wrapping Of Everything, and I want no part of that.
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