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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…or:  Why I’ve been busy the past week, and plan to be busy for the next three….
Tearing down the roof of our barn, after this winter finally collapsed it.
First, some slide-show images of the back 20-acres taken from the roof of the barn, and the roof-in-progress.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vcYXCkyJd_A

Then, a video shot from the front roadside, which gives a good overview of the project.   Lots of work to still do!!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dMDExCoiFKI

Enjoy!

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You know those shirts and posters with “you are here” and an arrow pointing to some speck in the galaxy or some-such?

Here’s a better look at the place we all live, care of NASA’s newest satellite composite images.
Animated: http://www.flickr.com/photos/gsfc/4401845574/

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This saturday, I was driving to meet a friend for dinner when I struck and killed a deer. My new car (3899 miles *sigh*) is a bit broken up, and the young button-buck was killed.

It may sound gruesome to some, but we kept the deer and are in the process of preparing it for venison this week.

Additionally, I have plans for a number of bones (and the skull) if I have success in cleaning/preparing them, which is a learning process for me. Prior animal bones I have had access to were found outside and pre-bleached by time, weather, and biological processes.

My pondering now, (and question to any readers here) is how to best preserve the animal remains, both in the literal physical sense, and a more spiritual/shamanic/etc sense.

I’ve honored the spirit of the deer with a quiet candlelit ritual saturday evening, but I’m completely learning-as-I-go in the idea of actually ‘harvesting’ the other parts respectfully. Wish me luck!

My dog has already requested a leg bone, and another is destined for a “talking stick” type of scepter. One rib popped up in my dreams last night as Useful, but no details as to the final use. The skull will hopefully preserve well and be gifted to a friend of mine with a great affinity to Deer. The rest, will most likely join the compost pile and garden for added calcium and to treat the nibbling field mice in our barn.

The car will be repaired, my own physical health is unharmed. I’d like to make the most of the noble animal who was ‘sacrificed’ in the accident.

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A bit late for the new-moon musing I had planned to write this as, so forgive a hectic life and sleepy shift-changes (again).

Recently, some relatives of mine who live in a rather suburban town of 9000 people, expressed great joy and wonder at the recent small explosion of wildlife in their yard. They have a small bit of grass to mow, and a tiny creek burbling in the backyard, which has always been home to muskrats and ducks (the muskrats go through annual trap-removals, but always migrate back in to mess up the yard).

Lately, a hawk/falcon has made it’s aerie on the block’s tall pines, Great blue Herons have been seen wading in the feeble stream hunting minnows, and the neighbor’s house got an infestation of rats, with rumors of a raccoon lurking around the garbage pails at night.

On the plus side of this, my relatives happily tell tales of bird watching, squirrel feeding, and muskrat/rodent removal. All that wildlife up-close is great for semi-retired folks sitting on their back porch with a cup of coffee. The nepphews get to share soem of the joy I remember in my youth of feeding squirrels and watching BlueJays fight over peanuts, along with the more “exotic” Herons and hawks swooping around on rare occassions.

Sadly, while I can’t help but smile and delight in these wonders of nature while I visit, there’s a part of me that is saddened and worried for that same wildlife.

They see abundance and natural wonder.
I see habitat decline and forced migrations to a suburban environment. It doesn’t help that the hill I once stood atop of to stargaze with my father in my pre-teen years is now a development of sterile townhouse-clone-rows.

I like stars as much as I like seeing wild birds and critters.

I also prefer going to visit them, instead of the reverse.

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PS: Happy Blue Moon!!! *

Edited note: The photos apparently bork the website layout, so I’ve changed them to links. Click on the links to see the actual images. Sorry!!

Meet the newest members of the Everthorn Farm Family: Jake, and Spot!

The bull brothers were born three days apart, around Dec 23 & 26th, but I forget which one is older. They will hopefully be trained to ride (like a horse) and handle a yoke for some emergency garden-plowing if necessary (you know, in 2012 when the world blows up, hehe)

If the temperment and personality starts to get a bit “Bullish” then they will join their energies to our family as dinner, as ‘Norman’ did in the past.

Also, for your viewing pleasure, a few recent pictures. First, the rare and elusive Tree-monkey, who lives in our lilac bush and enjoys ice-cream and pop-tarts for breakfast.

Next, the vicious Hound of Everthorn, cousin to that one in Baskerville.

Finally, two more of the bull-brothers. Jake’s head,, and another with his half-brother Spot.

Enjoy!

*PS: Pre-Script BlueMoon greetings, rather than Post-script, because it’s one of those kinda days where things are all mixed-up at work!

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I am not a morning person.  Morning people confuse and confound me.  Yet I am becoming one in the very near future due to my job.

In general, I have long maintained that my perfect “work shift” is 4pm-midnight, with the option to sleep in until around 10:00am.  If left to my own devices in one of those sleep-study caves, this is generally the time-frame Iwould gravitate to with my schedule.   I feel most productive just around dinner time, and early evening.

The quiet of the evening, with darkness settling in like a comfortable blanket of non-light, helping to focus my attentions and remove distractions of daily life.  That is zen to me.   Lamplight or candlelight with the soft glow of a monitor is comforting.

Yet soon, within a month or so, I will be adjusting to a completely different sleep cycle.   I had a taste of it these past two weeks.   4am-noon.  Blech!

I understand, intellectually, the concept of waking with hte sun bringing a promise to a new day, and all that.  I admit I’ve heard the “whole day before you” inspirations.  But I found I still don’t like it.

Mornings are when everything bustles up, revs into gear, and starts moving.  The birds sing, Life Happens, and folks start their day.    With this new shift, those things mean I’m halfway through and get to go home soon.

If I want to spend any time with my family on this new shift, I try to stay awake until dinner time, to join in on board games, book reading, and such.    I’m finding that this also means I get around 5 hours of good sleep, and taking a short nap from 1-3pm just makes me over-tired and washed out during dinner.

So if this blog starts to ramble a bit or sound slightly incoherent in January, blame early mornings.

I plan to. 

I’ll take the sunsets any day. [pun intended]

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**edit: still  trying to fix formatting. Blog exploded again.  Must be a weekend thing….

I have been reading an interesting book, which I referenced in a prior post, called “Dies the Fire“, which describes a post-apocolyptic world where humanity is struggling to survive after an Event causes technology to fail.

After finishing the first book in the series, I vividly recalled the poem by Robert Frost, pertaining to the end of the world.

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

Now, the physisist in me always reads this and thinks the poem relates to how the universe will end, either collapsing upon itself in a reverse Big-Bang, or expanding forever into a cold infinity.

Then, I realize that in speaking of desire and hate, perhaps it relates to how the earth itself will end for us.  Either in the cold calamity of a Nuclear Winter, or some unknown firey ending that has to do with passions overwhelming rationality?

Yet, then beyond these things, the Druid in me realizes that the poem itself is slightly flawed.  The world will not really end, not really.

It may be absorbed into the churning inferno of our star, which may in turn collapse within the Universe itself, or we may explode it with a Doomsday Device, but it will not end.  No more than the leaves that fall on the ground each autumn are gone.   They merely transform and rejoin the bio-stream as compost and creature.

A wise man once said, “We are all Star Stuff”, and I agree.  To stardust we will all return, and when the stars fade, we’ll still be Universe-stuff.   We just might not recognize it as ourselves.

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