Maebius Musings

This phrase has been stuck in my head for a few days now, starting while I was inspired to make my “Wild Place” in the yard, and then reading a mere day later in a Percy Jackson novel that the Pan of that story dies. “Grover finds Pan and learns the truth about his disappearance and that he, the God of Wild Things, must fade away and leave the job of making the earth green again to Grover, Annabeth, Percy, Tyson and everyone else on the planet. ”

This resonated with me all week, in light of our barn collapsing, which makes the property look decidedly less ‘Green-natural’ and more ‘trash-heap’ until it gets cleared up. In true microcosm/macrocosm fashion, this just keeps reminding me what a mess we’ve made of things, and how nice it used to, and will look again.

I helped create the BP oil spill after all, by continued use of petro-commercialism, as Anne said recently. I also helped set aside a patch of yard to be tended respectfully and minimally, and am looking into composting toilets and rainwater collection barrels. Each of us has potential for Change, both good and bad.

So, it seems this moon cycle is one where I find myself musing upon Pan more often than not. Pan in his many facets of untouched wilderness, his voice of Panic, and his [pro]creative drive.

Strangely, I have never been one to ascribe to any particular Pagan-themed diety in this manner. After a solid Lutheran upbringing, with appropriate Christians-tinted faiths, my own Pagan path has tended more towards generic elementalism, pantheism, and non-specified Druidic leanings. (Plenty of explanation of my spirituality on this blog’s archives.)

I had a brief stint of Faerie-slant which still sticks with me a bit. But the Gentle Folk are no gods. Otherwise, I’ve generally paid mere lip-service to other cultures’ Deities in acknowledging their existence on some level, but never joining their ranks. I liken this to knowing the Governor of Minnesota exists, but living in New York, if that makes sense. Yet everywhere I’m looking lately, I see horns. My own facebook page photo, for example, then wearing those self-same horns for fun while working outside last week “to be silly”. Looking back, are those silly head-decorations becoming something totemic? I don’t think so, but still, I’ve had them for years and never worn them much before now.

I even found my penny-whistle while cleaning up our closet on Thursday, and enjoyed waking some sleepy half-memories in my muscles by trilling a few songs out off my fingers. It’s no pan-pipe obviously, but the symbolism is surprisingly apparent when seen in retrospect, as they weren’t done with Pan in mind at the time. It’s interesting.

Did any of you readers with a more personalized relation with a particular Higher Power approach things in a similar manner, or were you off searching for a name specifically? Or, I suppose in other words, did you find your connections, or did They find you?

I also wonder if I’m just reaching for synchronisms that aren’t there. A bit of spiritual Apophinia, perhaps?

I also wonder if the webmistress of “The Gods are Bored”, or a Druid’s Apprentice, could get me a proper interview with Pan? *chuckle*

So, while I’m musing on all things goat-boyish, here’s two songs to entertain you. I just re-listened to them at work, which brought me merrily through that afternoon doldrum that hits around 1:30.

Enjoy. (and thanks to Nettle for sharing the songs initially with me recently!)

http://www.youtube.com/v/uxCPkg_Ee3Q

http://www.youtube.com/v/hztAzxNdL8c

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Last night, I started to prepare and set aside a small limnal patch of our back yard.   It is near the pond, and generally surrounded by wild thorns and sumac saplings, and situated in a way that makes it pretty difficult to mow or tend.  It’s farther from the house and not part of “grass yard” and not included in the fenced pasture for our horses due to the surrounding topology.   It’s a “junk patch” as someone once called it.

However, I had dreamed about this patch twice now in the past week.   The first, was the night I was trying to find a good location for a small Faerie Garden, or place to build a small Faerie-house.   In that dream, I was a rabbity creature caught in the thorns nearby and eventually settled into that spot to rest and recover, before hopping “home”.   The second time was last night, after a meditation on the Gulf Oil Disaster and lighting a candle to honor those beings who will lose/have lost their lives already for our greed.

In that second dream, I was not not there physically.  I merely watched, an invisible witness, as that patch of land grew from bare soil, filled with clover and sorrell and yellow dock, then got choked out by Motherwort, and eventually became an impossible full forest of minitature trees, with tiny fae-homes like the Ewok’s Village, or Lothlorien.

Thus inspired, I am in the process of trimming the thorns, slightly, but otherwise going to leave this parcel of dirt untouched.  It will be cleaned up of any litter and trash over the next week or two. (There’s a few bits of garbage from ancient farm-days in the crevices between the rocks. Rusty nails, broken glass and the like.  Not much, but some.  Folks from rural properties know the sort of thing I mean here, probably.)

After a sort of purification of the place, it will be allowed to grow and florish, as Nature deems suitable.   In times of extreme drought, I will spray it with the hose lightly, if we need to hose for our garden-proper.   If random winds blow refuse into it (roadside trash is an ever-present problem on our backwater street), it will be removed.    Otherwise, I promised the land it would be Wilderness.

To passers-by, no one will notice it.  Just another rough patch behind an old house.  I doubt I’ll feel called to decorate it with baubles and fae-toys (but am leaving the possibility open)  For now, it will be sanctified.

I’d still like to find the perfect spot to create my own “Shrine of the Mists“, with a different name.  Something formal, and such.  But I’m feeling kinda awesome about seeming asked by our land to “Leave this alone, and Love it”.

I’ll have pictures once it’s cleaned up properly, and walked away from on the New Moon.

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Yes, the typo is intentional in the topic.

Photos and pictures to come later, but we returned from a really fun time in Boston for a whale watch.  I’ll summarize here, and post links and photos in a second blog entry this week.  Work’s busy and the evenings are still filled with barn de-construction. 

The bus left at 4:30am on Saturday, and we returned home just after midnight.   Loooong day.

Once we arrived at the harbor, we boarded the large catamaran boat and headed out to sea.   I liked all the little islands we passed in the harbor, and the view of Fort Warren.  The trip out to sea took about an hour or so, and the waves were somewhat choppy (2ft chop, they said) so there was a bit of a mini-game we played inside the seating area.   I’ll simply describe it as anti-Twister, where you tried to Avoid putting hands and feet in the coloured spots on the floor.  (I was surprised just how many people get seasick, since it is exciting to me, not illness-inducing at all)

When we got out approximately 25 miles from shore, we saw whales!!!!   The humpbacks were feeding, which was really neat.  They would blow little ‘bubble nets’ underwater, to encircle the schools of krill and little fish, then swim up into the circle of bubbles and fill their mouths before diving back down and doing it again elsewhere.   All told, we saw what the captain estimated at 15-20 whales in the surrounding area,  and at least 7 individual whales in our immediate location.   They identified one as “Anvil” but did not have too many clear fluke-shots from the bridge to positively ID others.

On the way back, around 1pm, the kid slept after finally crashing from being up since 3:30am.  The return trip to shore was much calmer as we were traveling with the waves, and a steady tailwind. Returned to port around 2:30.

After this, we went to the Boston Aquarium.  That is a really neat place, with a huge, HUGE tank in the middle, full of fish and sharks, and a few eels, and the usual “big tank” sort of occupants.  (video of shark to come!)

All around the bottom were four species of penguin, which was really neat.  The African penguin sounds almost exactly like a burro/donkey, which was very funny.

After the aquarium, we played in a big fountain in the area, which was probably my son’s favorite part of the whole trip.  Shows once again that the best things are [relatively] free!   The fountain was a big flat tiled area, with little holes all around it.  From time to time, jets of water would come shooting out of the holes, in somewhat random patterns, to heights around 15 feet or so.   The kids in the area loved running through the jets, or dashing under the spouts as they rained down again.   Luckily, we had spare clothes in the bus, but for a short time, the kid got to wear my wife’s very over-sized sweatshirt in order to cover his soaking bottom.

After the fountain, we realized we had about an hour or so before the bus arrived to take us home, so we visited Kitty O’Shea’s Irish Pub.  I had the most delicious Fish&Chips I think I’ve ever eaten in my entire life, topped by a frosty Guinness from the tap.  YUMMM!!

The bus arrived a bit late (around 7pm instead of 6:30), and most of the scouts drifted off pretty quickly.   I fell asleep for a little bit, but very restlessly due to the uncomfortable seats.   Still, when we arrived back home around midnight, I consider the trip a successful adventure.

And that real bed felt extra-welcoming when we finally sprawled into it at, fast asleep almost before our heads hit the pillow.

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We have been cleaning up around our farm this spring. I’m talking a good thorough tear-down of old buildings, unearthing half-buried pipes and scraps in the old cistern, and other such things.

In the course of these events, we cleared out a small cement ‘pit’ approxinately 2 feet deep and 4×5 feet, which is within a few feet of the well. Our guess is this is a trough of some sort from when the well had a hand-pump. Our plan is to use it to grow worms or other compostable critters, since is is moderately self-containing.

As we cleaned out the decades of trash from this pit (which had bits of pipe, broken bottles, barbed wire fragments, and lots of rooty weeds) the kid decided to do a bit of archeology himself with the last few bits of stuff found at the bottom amongst the dirt. Since this past Monday, he has been actively pondering these artifacts and asking the grandparents, his teacher, and random strangers what these clues add up to.

There are NO wrong answers here. (I’ll post the best theories he came up with later this week, and unfortunately, our camera is broke, so no photographic evidence. you’ll have to settle for MS Paint!)

Can you solve the mystery, using these clues?!

Clues:
1) A small glass ‘tiger claw’, (actually: shard of broken window glass) approximately 1 inch in length.

2) One strangely shaped bone, approximately 4.5 inches long (broken scapula? Skull fragment?)

3) A small dark blue, 2-hole button (such as on a shirt)

4) A small length of chain, with fat 1/2 inch links, un-rusted, approx a foot long found buried in the dirt.

5) A very rusty fork, with four straight tines and a simple pattern.  (cheap flatware)  One of the middle tines has 1/4 inch missing from the end.

6) A handful of sandy dirt.

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Twas beltaine, and the fairie grove
Did shine and sparkle like the waves:
All mimsy were the kiddie troves,
And the mom sats in shade.

“Beware the JohnsonAnne, my friends!
The smile thats bright, the hugs that catch!
Beware the Jubjub Spare, not shun
The wonderous Mountain Clan[ch]!”

We took our crystal shard in hand:
Long time the manxome Tribe we sought –
So rested we by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought we stood,
The JohnsonAnne, with eyes aflame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as she came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The Tribes all chanted snicker-snack!
We joined in song, after not long
and Galumphing echoed back.

“And, has thou enjoyed the Faerie Fest?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!’
We chortled in our joy.

Twas beltaine, and the fairie grove
Did shine and sparkle like the waves:
All mimsy were the kiddie troves,
And the mom sats in shade.

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** Note,  Pīti is a very specific joy associated with a state of deep tranquility. I used that word because it was cool, and different,  and the Buddhist context seemed apt for the subject matter.

This past weekend, I went firewalking with Andrew Steed with a wonderful friend of ours.  It was Awesome.  It was Joyful.  It was a hug-incarnate.  It was all sorts of good happy things that words seem pretty cheesy for when typed out, but still don’t come quite close to the actual Experience of.

Our young son attended, as well, and appears to have had some of the wisdom and Healing that happened there sink in much deeper than it did to curmudgeony old Maebius.  He still talks about building the fire with Intent, and growing your personal energy and Love, and SHAA!

One thing that resonated to me though, was surprisingly NOT the actual walking on coals.  For as much as I love fire, and as awesomely energizing that act was, I was most moved by events before the gathering around the embers.

Prior to the walking, Andrew led an empowering ritual where people broke wooden arrows with their bare throats!    While I’m sure our friend would have loved to see me participate, I was not called to, and was basking in the Witnessing of the whole thing.     After the arrows, they bend a 6ft rod of steel rebar!!

Now, let me tell you, I can repeat the mantras of Witnessing others, and can psychologically try explaining how it’s likewise empowering to support people doing such powerful spiritual acts, but I also admit it’s a heck of a lot of fun to do them yourself too.

This time, I surprised myself by being so caught up it the moment, so viscerally Present, that when each arrow broke, I clapped and smiled like a kid in a candy store.   There was just So.  Much.  Love!  in the room I couldn’t help myself.    When the rebar bent, I don’t think I could even really see it due to misty-eyed, tingling-spined, AWE that was radiating in that room.  I had some profound Piloerection events (mind out of the gutter!).

Even today, almost a week later, and having felt a bit of that Joy slip away over the work-week, the mental thought of that room, with those people, just shines in my heart and makes my feel 10lbs lighter.   I’m reminding myself to carry that feeling all the time, even while at work, because “I’m doing my job Anyway”, and am very grateful for the experience.

Still, the musing of this post is a new, deep-rooted realization that Witnessing, in the sacred context, is absolutely Empowering.  It is impersonal,  non-ego driven, and Participatory.  It’s potent stuff indeed.

I have a much better appreciation of that Avatar Movie, too, so to all my readers….

I see you.   <3

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You hear the term “One of those days” most times as a negative thing. Bad stuff happened, you know, it was one of those days? Well, I’m going to redefine the term in my mind. Today is Awesome. It’s one of those days!

This feeling I have today is probably,  (well, most definitely) a result of a workshop I attended this weekend, with Andrew Steed, Kat, Mary, David, Dorita, Molly, Mary, Carly(sp?), Vinny, Aylish, etc, and a myriad of smiling faces that I can picture in my head but would bore some of you readers who know them not.

I’ll have a de-briefing post about the whole firewalk and such later this week, but today, I’m concentrating on how awesome it is RIGHT NOW.

I woke up, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and as we staggered downstairs to eat breakfast, that kid of ours remarked “I Love Toast today, SHA!”

So, we sang some silly “YEAH TOAST” song, danced around the table as my wife and I got the butter and cinnamon for it, and had the dog happily confused with our antics.

I got to work, and was asked (only semi-jokingly) by my co-worker what they put in the Kool-Aid(tm) this past weekend, since I was apparently smiling too much, and had quite the spring in my step.    I never knew it was possible to smile too much.

Must be one of those days! 

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I’ve felt for the past few weeks now, that my spiritual practice is slightly more selfish and internalized than they could be.  This was most acutely felt (or rather not-felt) during this weeks Equinox.  I had set aside some time to go outside, enjoy the spring-like weather, and welcome the greenery and Life that was appearing around our farm. ( The geese arrived again, six of them this year!)    Yet, it felt a bit hollow and empty.

Oh sure, I’ve lit my candles, taken a few moments to admire and appreciate the budding life around me this spring, but there seems to be something missing.   I’ve fallen out of practice with Faerie-Play (for lack of a better word, since Worship seems the wrong connotation, so I’ll say Play, with the same inflection as capital-L-Love is used sometimes) and an attempt to re-strike that relationship gave me a pretty stern chastisement from the Otherkin camp for falling out of practice to begin with.  So, there’s one item on my to-do list this month.

Still, there’s another aspect of the Divine that I would like to re-connect to, and am not sure the best way to do so.   I want to say hello again to the Gods/Goddesses out there, Bored or otherwise.  Essentially, I would like to reaffirm a Path that includes something more discrete than “The Earth/Nature” (intentionally glossing over the depths of defining “Nature”).

I used to be very active in my Lutheran Church, and had a fairly solid understanding of God.  I redefined my concept of that being, and added other names to “Who is God” as I grew older and more pagan-minded. Still, I’ve never gotten really comfortable with other pantheons in popular use among the Pagani.  Celtic culture is really neat, but I don’t connect to Brigit or Lugh.  Norse Asatru is intellectually intriguing, but I have even less of a bond with Thor or Loki other than lip-service.  Likewise, the recent interest in Greek mythology (ala: Percy Jackson books) is fun reading, and scholarly, but I can not consider myself a student of Hellenismos.

I’ve done a bit of research with my family tree, which contains a fair chunk of ancestors deeply involved with PA Dutch Heathenism, and Hex-craft.  Yet again, my dabblings into that practice seem a bit forced and rote, rather than passionate and rewarding.

So,  here I am at a sort of crossroads.    I’ve got my current Practice and Path, which includes drum-circles, and gardening, and a rather down-to-earth subtle appreciation of The World We Live In, but I am feeling called more and more in my meditaitons to look towards Someone/Something.   The problem is I’m not sure who/what that is.

My question to the readership here is:   Other than continued practice with a particular set of Deities, is there a generalized way of opening myself up to inspiration?   As a (really bad) example, would I gather up an anhk and dagger, calling upon Ma’at or Nuit until something answers… or would I simply ask the spirits and Divine to enter in frith, and wait to see what particular name[s] pops into my head?

Of course, I already understand it’s a somewhat selfish question as well, wanting The Gods to start paying attention to Me…  Still, I’m more curious if I could narrow down my list of options for Me to start paying more attention to Them.

How did you find your current Path?

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Sorry in advance for a bit of half-hearted musings today. Been a hectic week, and I wanted to get something on e-paper today before it got hecticer. (yes, it’s a word, if I say it is *grin*)

Often in those self-help books and shows, and within a number of philosophical Spiritual-teachings, I have come across the concept of speaking your voice. Take Action. Stand up for what we believe, and all that. For many (most?) of us, I’m sure that sort of thing sounds great on paper and within a daily assertion, but the actual practice of Speaking Up gets pushed to the sidelines among the day to day chores. We don’t like being on stage, sticking out in a crowd, and such.

I’m no exception, but today I wanted to try a little experiment on voice, and would challenge my readers to try this once today, and let me know any thoughts you have after-wards.

Find a quiet space, like your car, or an empty house while showering, or such, and sing along with a song. In my case, it was in my car with the radio on to a local pop-station. Change channels until you gt a song you like, and vaguely know the words to. If you are in the shower or dusting the shelves at home, run a song through your head as you say the lyrics out loud.

For this challenge, I don’t want you to simply mumble along with it. Take a deep breath, sit/stand up straight, and belt out those notes. Doesn’t matter if your voice is scratchy or sounds like a drowning camel, or even Platinum Album material. No one is around, remember?

Ideally, if you are listening to the radio, you should be loud enough to not actually hear the real singer. Overrun the lyrics in your ears with the ones in your lungs. Yell it if you want, at least one verse, if not a whole song. If you are a bit stressed and can’t think of a song, just stick to sounding a Barbaric Yawp (first part of this video).

I mean really try it, as instructed. I’ll wait…

Then, after you are done, take a little internal assessment of yourself. Do you feel silly? Do you feel guilty or worried about the neighbors? Try to ignore that primary feeling and think again.

I’m guessing that even with any ego-ruled emotions bouncing around in your head, you feel just a bit better than you did before this activity. Perhaps not much, but maybe your shoulders slump a smidgeon less for the moment, or that nagging cough feels a little less nagging this particular minute.

Be honest with yourself.

I will readily admit I don’t consistently set aside time each day for healthy things like meditation or involved spiritual musings. Yet, I wonder how much effect it would have if everyone took 1 minute to just yell or sing each day? To sound our barbaric Yawp, and sing a song of yourself.

Catharsis is underrated.

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No words needed here.
This was an amazingly beautiful and heart-tugging PSA about seat belts.

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