The detail is gorgeous. The shop pictures didn’t do it justice. And it’s here in time for the prophesy session tonight. Excellent. I purchased it on Etsy. Raven makes them!
My Blog
Waking Up
REBLOG
Sometimes my legs fall asleep, from my numb toes all the way up to aching hips. The ache is dull, muted. Just uncomfortable enough for me to want to move.
But moving requires waking my legs up, and while I am acclimating to the difference, every nerve from my hips down is SCREAMING at me that something is VERY VERY WRONG. Numbness and dull ache have nothing on this screaming. My nerves don’t scream like that on the way down to numbness, why must they scream so on the way back up?
I don’t know, but if I don’t go through it, if I don’t put up with the pain of re-acclimating, I can’t WALK. I literally can not go forward. Even crawling would just induce the pain.
Change is like that. The dull numb ache of being in a bad place is barely bearable, but the pain of trying…
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A New Year Poem
As I posted elsewhere, my mum always said that whatever you do on New Year Day you do for the rest of the year. This year I tried to plan more for desires than do-not-wants (such as laundry, which she cautioned against every year). My list for yesterday was reading, writing, art, divination, Netflix, nap, Tai Chi, and tasty food for dinner. I got in all except the nap. Perhaps I won’t need them in 2015!
Anyway, I wrote two poems, one for New Year and one is a morning prayer (to be sung) using words from “The Flower Prayer” and adding others. I’m sharing the New Year one here:
It’s a new year
marked by a new day,
people cheer and make promises
they never really intend to keep;
which seems like a lie, but really,
it is an unveiling of truth.
Everyone knows there is nothing new
about the day or year;
it is same as the last,
though hearts beat a bit weaker,
kidneys slow a hair,
gallbladders churn a tad differently;
and knee-skin sags
along with the corners of our eyes.
Our floors creak louder
and the dogs bark softer;
trunks thicken
of both trees and man,
but the sky looks the same
and the earth turns on her same course
’round the sun.
We celebrate anyway,
this oldnew dayyear,
we celebrate, not because we must
but because we can;
and in the brief time between
the stroke of midnight and January 7th
we are filled with hope,
and promise,
and whispering joy.
Life returns to what it is,
same as what it was,
and we plod through ten months
until we start to think again,
about the soon-to-be-new year
(just like the old year)
and the familiar tingle takes hold,
the mirage of change
in new habits
that we know will fall away.
Yet we are content with that,
as our kneecaps loosen
in their skin-clothes,
the dogs bark in breathy tones,
our hearts skip a beat
as we walk the stairs to bed,
full of only the future,
and pretending for a week,
that the past is wholly other
from the now.
Jan 1, 2015 ©Pamela V Jones
Orange candles – my Work
I need to order more. When I went to my supply to set lights for a friend’s dying grandmother I discovered only one orange candle left. I didn’t remember getting low. I would have ordered more because the dying or newly dead don’t always give enough warning to reorder in time. It’s a rather odd Job that I have, lights for transitions from life to death (and death to life, though orange candles are not for babies, white ones are). Not just a light, but specifically orange, always orange for the transition. Not everywhere that carries candles will sell orange except perhaps at Halloween so when I find a decent price I buy some. Except this year I didn’t even look and then poof, the last one went.
I have other colours for people who request candles and for workings either personal or purchased, but the inventory on the orange ones are always a surprise. One year they last and last and then another year they are gone quickly. I should have known to look at my stock as the holidays approached – so many leave at this time of year.
Thanks to ebay more are on their way. Do you think the dying will hold off on their final breath for a few days?
Or If That’s Not Possible, Some Snacks
V.V. Ganeshananthan
An Agnostic or Maybe Atheist Hindu’s Plea for Sanity, Or If That’s Not Possible, Some Snacks
O whomsoever is up there,
You, and you, and you also, since you’re simultaneously aspects of one—
—grant us patience with the bearded white hippie who, at the gym in suburbia, saysnamaste to us instead of hello, and thinks that for this he should receive karmic points, and perhaps even more hilariously, that we in our mystical brownness might be capable of distributing such, even though we know no one other than he who greets another person in this fashion;
Or alternatively, make us capable of distributing such points, none of which shall go to him, but shall only go to people who have had namaste said to them unsolicitedly on the basis of race;
And should that be the case, may all such points be redeemable for fresh mangosteens, which we have had overseas but which are in any case only available on the black market in the United States, and who knows why, because they are delicious and might go far towards distracting from the irritations of unsolicited namastes;
Or, since it must be said, the irritations of people assuming we do yoga, although we prefer soccer, which for some reason seems to surprise them;
I Didn’t Report Because Fuck You
REBLOG Because THIS.
I Didn’t Report Because Fuck You
I’ve got other shit to do. I work full time at a demanding job. I have two kids. Their dad doesn’t see them or pay child support. I make a decent paycheque which is equivalent to what two parents working at McDonalds would make. Dentist appointments, soccer practice, games every Saturday (my week to supply the oranges), car repairs, my own health (slipped vertebra), I’m out of sick days, recycling day, the kids’ emotional health, help them with homework in the evenings, no minutes on my cell phone, one kid needs braces, figure out a way to pay back student loans, don’t forget bus tickets, I should be exercising more, keep the house liveably clean, really should have a garage sale, car insurance, drive one kid to school for 7:30 twice a week, make sure to have lunch foods, bus tickets, groceries, dinners planned…
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Holidays are almost here!
My Etsy Shop – Essentials by PJ is a great place to pick up that unique gift! I have knitted pouches, essential oil blends for magical uses, massage oil blends, mojo bags, and prayer beads!
And gift sets! The small one is just $24.99, but there is a $5 off coupon in my store announcement section! I won’t make you look – the coupon code to use at the checkout screen is “5DOLLARDISC”.
“Why can’t you be nice???”, or, why I get angry on the Internet
1) It’s my job.
2) It’s my Job.
3) People respond to it, not to my “let us pray for peace” posts.
I am a transition Priestess. I walk the Edges and I do it well. I move people and spirits from life to death, from here to there, from comfortable to uncomfortable, from complacent to transformed. It’s my job. If folks paid attention to nice, I’d do that, but on the Internet folks pay attention to RAWR! Especially on Facebook.
People engage when they see the !!!!!!s on my Facebook posts. Some engage in support, others engage to tell me I’m full of crap, or they are apologists, or they are simply saying, “But I….” Frankly, I don’t care from which direction you engage – you are engaging and that brings awareness, that promotes discussion. I tend to discuss the undiscussable (yes, not a word, I know). I discuss social injustice in a myriad of forms – racism, sexism, ableism, hetero-normative privilege, classism, etc-ism. I discuss sexual abuse. I loudly discuss these things.
I know most people who post to the OMGs!!! posts already agree with me. I also know from a decade on Delphi and other Beehive styled forums that posting only for those who reply is folly. Posting in controversial threads is for the lurkers. They are the ones who read, go off and think on all the sides they see voiced, and make up their minds.
Will I ever know who I influence? Nope. Do I care? Nope. Because my Job is to speak, to do, to be. What happens after that is somebody else’s Job. On the Internet I use a lot of RAWR!! Off of the Internet I use a lot candles, prayers, meditation, and energy work – sending for peace, praying for justice, lighting for Love.
I honour my Gods on and off the Internet. Some of Them are all about compassion. Not all of Them are about peaceful compassion. One of Them is about compassion that looks like a huge wave that flattens and takes the population of Crete. That is “Let’s start over” compassion. Another is about taking the spoils, the Dead, all of them – and placing them at the same banquet table. “Here,” She says, “dine across from your enemy. Forever.” One winks with His sole good eye twinkling at you, and chuckles at your flailing, compassionately. One bursts endless beauty and creation by gazing at Her reflection. And One dances at the crossroads, opens the way, and spins stories out of the ether, asking that they be repeated.
Why this post? Because people see RAWR!! and think that is Who I Am – sullen, angry, hunting for reasons to yell – and that is okay for them to think so. After all, what other people think of me is none of my business. But those same folks who don’t respond to my SJ posts because they no longer “do angry” also do not respond to my love and peace posts. Hhhmmmmm.
I get around 100 likes, comments, and shares off of two RAWR!! posts and <10 from two love and peace posts. Seriously. I’ve tested the theory. Quote an angry blogger, people respond. Posts photos from the Ferguson protest I went to, not a word. Cry horror at white privilege in Texas, people reply. Show Tibetan monks standing for social justice and get one two likes, no replies. (It may get more after this filters down to FB.)
So, I am going to stay angry on the Internet. And I’m going to keep my practices here at home. Both are my Job. You are mainly going to see only one of them online, though, because only one of them moves people best that I can tell. And moving people – here to there and Here to There – is my Job.
Hunt’s Night – Krampus Nacht
REBLOG – The Hunt
Our day is a bit disordered. Tonight we celebrate what we call Hunt’s Night — it is the eve of the legendary ride of a spectral Huntsman with his hounds. He is various named, almost by country — sometimes called Gwynn ap Nudd, or Arawn (Welsh), or Herne the Hunter (Anglo-Saxon) or Woden, Odin, or Ullr (Nordic/German).
Since the Manchild will go to work soon and not be home till very late, we had a celebratory meal already…with raw ribs set aside for offering to the Hunter’s hounds. In our family, two of us have seen one such hound — huge and white with dark ears. Others with us did not see the dog in two separate incidents, and we witnesses both fell ill in the wake of the sighting. I viewed this as a selection/initiation process — the fevers that followed seemed intent on burning out the last bits…
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Pagans in Solidarity
Join us!
We at Bone and Briar stand in solidarity with our brothers and sisters of colour during this time of horrid behaviour by people in authority. We grieve with Mike Brown’s family and the family of Eric Garner. We grieve with the family of Tamir Rice. Mostly we grieve our nation falling short again and again when it comes to equality.
We are white and we know the privilege we possess because of that. We work to mitigate the effects of that privilege in our daily lives. We also speak up and speak out – in our families, in our neighborhoods, and in our community. We show up and we ask all of our Reclaiming/Feri kith and kin to do the same. Pagans of Colour have a difficult struggle in our own communities, when in the company of their co-religionists, which is the last place that they should struggle so. Out…
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LEAN IN TO JOY with BONEWEAVER 