Well, we will be having turkey on Saturday because the roads are still too dicey for the old folks in my family to drive so we are waiting for a thaw.
But it just wouldn’t be Thanksgiving in my house without some good ol’ Arlo Guthrie. This is his Alice’s Restaurant: 30 years revisited. New material and as fun as ever…
Wow, Mabon fast approacheth. This is my favorite time of year. It’s probably because of the school year but September always feels more like new year to me. It is a time of new beginnings, new friends, new pencils. I find myself reflecting. What is my harvest this year. What do I want to release? How have things changed from this time last year? Where am I going? *ow* My nose? Who put that wall there??! Why is it so dark??! MOMMY!
Okay, not really but sort of you know?
Last year at this time, in fact THIS WEEK, I was driving to the river to fill my pockets full of rocks. I had had enough. I simply couldn’t bear the pain of life one more moment. If you recall, I got lost on the way and the rest, well, you can read about it here. This year things have shifted. Thank God/dess. Thank you Mary.
When I started up my business, Harvest Blessings, one of the things I said a lot was “Harvest? Is a VERB.” Pause while they catch up…
Last year I thought I had nothing left. Yes, I had family. I had my blog. I had my dear and darling Miss Mitty. I still had my car (and still do miracle of miracles). But my heart was shredded, broken, trounced upon, bleeding, and bereft of hope. I hadn’t had work in 18 months, had lost my home, had lost love and friends, my ex-husband had suicided, and well, can you spell RAW? I knew you could.
This year I still am looking for work. Oh my god. How long is this going to go on? BUT. I have love, I have hope, I have a spiritual path that is feeding me again if not in the ways I thought it might, I have the family and the mitty and you. What I really have is a new pair of glasses. I’m seeing things differently than I did last year. My worth is no longer about being able to support myself financially or defined by “what do you do?”
I am loving autumn so far and looking forward to winter and the return of the light. It is a time of reflection and inventory, taking stock.
So what IS my harvest this year? Continue reading
That desire to drive off into the sunset alone has manifested itself into a drive down the Oregon coast for a week. I drove to the mountains yesterday and wanted to keep on driving so bad. I wasn’t prepared though. So I’m taking today to get my act together. I leave tomorrow morning at 6:30. Two days at a KOA campground (hey, a woman alone I want to be around families etc) on the coast then further down, almost to Cali, where I visit with some friends who live in a little hamlet on the coast. They say I can stay as long as I like. Then home. Rocks and sand and seals and wind and water and blessed nature. Aaaahhhhhhhhh.
Mr. Furnace and I spent a couple hours together last night. Finally a low key evening. Nothing to talk about, no oral surgery woes, no decision to make, no talks to have, just quiet time together. It was nice and good and sweet. Even so we both need a break.
He needs down time on good days because of his health issues. 5 planets in Scorpio and add something like the emergency oral surgery? And you have one intense human being. Not sure I can handle that side of him or not. The rest is so wonderful but that intensity really threw me off kilter. Which wasn’t hard to do, I was off kilter already. But the love is there and things are smoothing out, we’re trying to find our balance, it does appear to be the goal of both us, so I’m willing to keep on trucking for a little while longer.
Last night I got some sympathy, some empathy, some caressing, some face to face looking in the eyes time, a kiss or two, some soccer, some Law & Order. It helped. A lot. It was perfect, it’s what we do best. Which is good because I am a wreck and I know it.
He says he has square wheels right now and so do I. 3 mph is about the best we can do. And that is more than enough for me. 0-60 in a year. It’s the Flintstone mobile, we’re pedaling as slowly as we can. Which is good, smell the roses from your Weirdsmobile.
I’m looking forward to the negative ions of the ocean, wind on my face, and some alone time with the mama. I’m exhausted. I need some time for thoughts to percolate, figure out what I need to own and what belongs to someone else. Need some more crying time, some laughing time, some good food with good friends time, some just being time. My feet in the sand, in the ocean, a good book, a big hat, and a nap. I don’t know who I’ll be when I come back but I’m pretty sure it will be me but different.
Here’s a thought from the Cancerian philosopher Gaston Bachelard: “He who listens to the singing of the stream cannot be expected to understand the one who hears the singing of the flame: They do not speak the same language.” While I mostly agree with that poetic formulation, I think you’re about to be a temporary exception to the rule. Normally you are acutely attuned to the singing of the stream; your skill at reading its nuances are supreme among the zodiac. But I expect that in the coming days, you will not only have the power to appreciate the song of the fire; you’ll even be able to empathize with and understand people who are entranced by the song of the fire.
Well that says something good to me. Me and D? Both water signs and both on fire. I generally can read the signs of the stream and the fire. But I could use a boost of mad skillz. It takes a while to learn what another person likes and doesn’t like. Today we’re doing okay on the communication thing. Today is all we ever really have and that’s good enough for me.
I was just looking at this photo and it hit me.
The vase is from Portugal, the statue from Greece, the pillow from France, all gifts brought to me by friends. I have so many friends all over the world, interesting friends, lovely people, and I suddenly felt overwhelmed with gratitude for how good my life is.
And the Mitty? Miss Mitty? The Kitty Mitty never leaves my side if she can help it. It’s really about being in a prime spot to get random pets all day but hey, I can tell myself it’s love right? Love and a sheepskin bed.
My own art, my mothers high chair, my first stuffed animal sitting in my first chair, the ancestor altar and pet cemetery, grandma’s tatted lace linens, and the ever present box of stitching tools and random thread, a turkey bone, and pins, always pins…
West altar with boob shell, stitching in progress, always stitching, books, never enough books.
Christmas in May… The cactii are Haaaaaappppy
And that means YOU!
I’ve had a very good day. My uncle turned 90 and cousins were here from out of town that I haven’t seen in a long time, one in particular that I just adore. Good food and lots of laughter. Two more days too! Score!
I got a letter from a man that I dated in 1978. We reconnected through other old friends on FB. When I contacted him at first he told me to go to his website where he has written about how much I influenced him in the beginning of his music career. It was really sweet. He’s now a producer who lives in Berlin and travels the world producing records for bands, he’s in Buenes Aires right now. Cool beans. The other day I wrote him a letter because he was the first person to ever take me to a witchy event. I couldn’t participate and with others had to wait downstairs and I wanted to know if he could tell me all these years later what was going on. Turns out it was a Rosicrucian meeting. Cool enough.
We started talking about other things, one intense night in particular. He and I were dating and had gone to see the Ramones. There was a party at my house and the Ramones were coming and the house was full of people I knew and totally didn’t know. He and I were in the bedroom doing what people do when my ex burst through the door. The house had been wide open and no one stopped him. He threatened my friend with a weapon and kidnapped me out of the house, took me to his house where he raped me among other humilations. When I got home the next morning my friend was still there waiting for me. What a brave man. He was not in any way anything other than one of the most gentle men I’ve known. It was totally brave. It was exactly what I needed, he really was there for me when I really needed a gentle friend. I can see him there today in my mind’s eye. I’ve rarely been so glad to see someone.
So, we were talking and he said:
At the time, I probably thought that my rural friends [the Rosicrucians] would be boring to you, and old fashioned, cuz you represented the forward movement of music, fashion, and history to me, and I wanted to be part of that!
I said:
I did the music fashion history thing, still do but in different ways (You knew I was into history? How amazing, I didn’t share that with just anyone).
and he replied:
it wasnt that i knew that you were into history, more that you were making it! Seriously- you were gently telling me to wake up (from all that pot smoking it was hard to do anything resembling ‘awakeness’!) and get on with the present instead of clinging to the past.
Now this might not sound like much and there was much more written that I’m not sharing but you must remember that I am a recovering alcoholic. What was happening in the Seattle punk movement in that late 70’s was intense and we were pretty messed up a lot of the time. There are a lot of details that I only remember if someone brings it up and there is some that is lost as my own memory for ever as far as I can tell.
What I do know is that in all my inebriation I seem to have picked (with one or two STELLAR mistakes obviously) some really good men to be in my life and they have come back into my life this year. To find that I don’t owe them amends, that they remember me and tell me how much I meant and how much I did for them, well, verklempt I’m telling you.
I was able to go to my homegroup tonight and had a really good talk with the woman who shared her house with me before I moved home to my parents. She and I got sober together in 1995 and while we have ebbs and flows in our relationship, we’ve always had a very special bond and always find our way back to conversation as if we never stopped our non-stop talk fest. We had a good talk tonight and I was able to tell her about my year of dealing with hurt and loss from friends when I needed them the most. I was able to tell her because I’ve rounded the bend and have detachment with love with these people. It doesn’t hurt any more. We talked of many things, caught up over a late dinner.
My mother gave me a huge boquet of flowers this afternoon in eggplant and lime green with a hint of magenta. Gorgeous. She saw them and they reminded her of me, she knows they are my current favorite colors and she said she wanted me to know how much she appreciates me. Awah!
I feel myself surrounded today by people who love me, past present and future. Who loved me at my worst and my best. Relationships I didn’t trash, lovers who have thought of me fondly my whole life, and a mother who I am working things out with in beautiful ways.
Thank you to all of those friends but also thank you to you friends. You read my life, my highs, my lows, my sideways tangents, and you seem to still, well I don’t know if I would say you love me, but you keep coming back for more and I’m grateful. Sure, I can sit here tap tap tapping away, pouring out my heart, I need a journal but it helps more than you might know to know that folks are listening to some of your darkest secrets and they still come around. That’s worth a lot.
So thank you.
Stitch Witch Cottage 