The Long Roll Uphill from Grief

It’s been awhile. The climb has been steep and slippery. I feel more myself than I have since February. Part of this returning I credit to Spiralheart Witchcamp from where I’ve just returned. I had a grand time! I got to play, and play with energy. I received tenderness from all around in such an overwhelmingly good way that my skin is still sweet with it. ………………. Con’t. at Pagan bloggers!

 

You know what? No.

Reblog. Ah, community, so often the ass you claim to loathe.

Strip Me Back to the Bone

This was originally going to be a bullet-pointed ‘here’s how things are going at our place’ list, with shrine photos and Corbie photos and nice, relaxing, “this is what I love about life right now.”

But instead, it’s going to be rant. An angry rant. A “Jolene should know better than to rant while angry” rant. And I should. I should. But it’s rare for me to be angry these days, to this degree. I go forward with the assumption that people by and large mean the best, because it makes me more able to be a kind and compassionate person. It makes my world better. It makes me happier. At the very least, I go forward with the assumption that the people that are in my life, in spaces that are not so public, mean the best, and at worse are thoughtless, but never malicious or intentionally unkind. Those…

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It’s been a long couple of months

I’m not up for details of the complicated nature of our relationship at this point, but my brother Scott was dead within a week of being told he had stage IV cancer. (DOD: March 3rd, 2017) He lived in CA. His remains were donated to research, then he was cremated and the ashes shipped to Chicago where my sister lives. We rendezvoused there and held a service this past Saturday. I returned yesterday with him.

Welcome home, Scott.

Paganism: resists infallible leader syndrome, eats them when they fail

“….I’m always hesitant about stepping into leadership in my community. I feel called to share my gifts, and resist the glare of the spotlight. Scrutiny is a difficult thing, but my religious community prides itself on being fully human in all the places of our lives. We encourage and embrace each other as we flail and fall, dust off our knees, and rise to the task again and again. We neither coddle nor punish weakness. Sometimes punish strength. We walk the edges – try not to fall into codependence, hold our boundaries, and push through our discomfort…..”

 

First published on paganbloggers at Musings from the Bone.

Thoughts thru the Maze – who is the monster at the center of the labyrinth?

Is it me? Is it you? My thoughts run frantically after each other, twisting in confusion. I search for the path to the center. Was there a minotaur, or simply a mirror? When does a hospice worker get to say, “nope, not you”? Do you get to say bugger off to your calling? When seeking advice from the Ancestors, why do they snort-laugh and shrug?

Answers in order: Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Whenever. Sure. Because they can.

If I can find a way to decipher my feelings around the situation it will all become clear, yes? Does a soul-cleanser get to say, “Not my job. I’m not the only Worker here”? Are there guns involved, and if so, what caliber? Will regret be involved? Does that change anything?

Answers: Same as the first set, choose as appropriate.

Decisions that shift hourly are exhausting. Life is exhausting. Death is exhausting. Sleep will be a temporary relief.

Brigid (silent) Poetry Slam, year 12

Sink

Sink,
like the last breath of consciousness
before death,
before birth,
Sink,
like stone in the wooden bucket
dips for renewal,
dips for healing
in Brigid’s well.

~Pamela V Jones ©2017

This is my 8th year contributing to the Silent Poetry Festival  which has been going on since 2006, and has become a wonderful, international event, with people posting poems in honor of Brigid on their blogs, Facebook, Twitters, Tumblrs, and other such devices.

Details here.