On the Passing of a Great Lady

 My last living grandparent passed away last week. My grandmother was a great lady and a force of nature, and she will be missed dearly. She was the last connection I had to my mother, the last person who had known us both since birth. With both my grandfather and my mother already gone before her, she was the last glue holding the remains of our family together. After she had to leave her home for medical reasons, arguments and hard feelings started to divide family gatherings. Now that she is gone, I won't be surprised to see all of us drift even further apart.

My grandmother was the keeper of our family history and for me especially the keeper of our family recipes. I could always call her (and often did) to ask about that cake Aunt Ruth made or that orange sherbet punch Aunt Jean made for baby showers and wedding receptions or the Spanish Rice Aunt Sarah brought to family reunions. Grandmother and Mama knew all the recipes and could tell me what I had forgotten or gotten wrong just by having me describe it to them.

She was quick to laugh, and I remember her singing when she cooked when I was little. I rarely heard her voice raised in anger. I was always welcome in her home, and whatever friends I brought along were treated like family too. We will not be the same without her.

Disconnected and Disillusioned

 I find myself feeling disconnected and disillusioned. Since my parents passed away five years go, the already thin threads that tied me to my family have become thinner and have been stretched to the breaking point. 

The calls, which were always rare, have almost disappeared completely unless I am the one doing the calling. I occasionally reach out because I promised my mother I would if something were to happen to her or my father. But there's only so much I can take of always being the one reaching out. In the 26 years I have had a home of my own, my family has never knocked on my door or stepped over my threshold no matter how near or far I lived from them. I have always been the one expected to travel to them, and I'm made to feel guilty when I can't or don't want to spend my little free time and money doing that. Not to mention that, without my parents, I feel even more of an outsider than I always have. It's a place of pain for me.

With the current state of our country, it's not particularly safe for us to travel there, but I fell beneath the weight of the guilt. I am stressing and anxious, and if I even breathe a mention of it, they blow off my fears as ridiculous and unnecessary. They aren't though. They do not read and hear the hate spewed at people considered "other" every day. We're other in so many ways, it would take ages to count them all. That makes travel particularly stressful. Where is it safe to stop along the way? Where should we avoid? Where can we stop for the night? Air BnB's are out because we do not want to surprise anyone with our existence in their home. Can you image inadvertently ending up in a rental home in the middle of nowhere and have the homophobic or transphobic owner show up for a surprise visit? 

Yeah, I don't want to risk that. I don't think my family will ever understand the inherent danger involved in that. Or maybe they do because there certainly weren't any open doors or empty beds for us once we got there. Guilt-tripping, Christian relatives who might as well have been reenacting the part of the Christmas story where there is no room at the inn. There was no room for us with any of them. I cried until my eyes swelled and I felt empty. Then I filled that empty with protective anger. I'm sure I'll grieve again later, but for now the anger is better.

Maybe the threads have finally snapped, and some things aren't able to be mended.

Just to Say Hello I Guess

I've always been interested in the possibility of paranormal activity: ghostly visitations, residual hauntings, life after death, etc.  My gut tells me that the majority of "hauntings" people experience are residual in nature. I know places carry echoes of both good and bad things that have happened there. I can feel those sometimes. So, it makes sense to me that places would also carry echoes of the people who once resided there. I don't think these echoes are sentient in any way though. They are spiritual recordings of what has already happened. Are there also intelligent hauntings ... maybe. probably ... but I don't think those happen nearly as often as the ghost shows want you to believe. 

I say this all to qualify that I'm not one of those ghost fanatics who yell, "What's That?!" at every sound in the darkness. And having said that. I think I saw my grandfather, who passed in 2007, a few nights ago. He was leaning up against the door frame of my guest room. He was wearing one of the coveralls he liked that resembled air force jumpsuits. I made eye contact, he gave a little nod, and then he was gone. It was like he just wanted to recognize that he saw me and that he was there before going. 

We hadn't moved into the house we live in now when he passed, so no chance of a residual haunting there. It's been almost 17 years since he passed. It seems like an odd time to peek in for a quick nod. But who knows. Just an odd little thing that happened that I will be turning around in my head for a while. A bit of unexpected food for thought.

Witchy Wednesday: A Jar Ritual for Recognizing and Sending Love and Blessings into the World

 

A Jar Ritual for Recognizing and Sending Love and Blessings 

Materials 

A red or pink candle 

A jar or other glass container with lid (preferably with a wide mouth to make it easy to place items within)

Small pieces of paper (one per name)

Scraps of ribbon/string/twine (optional)

A pen (pink or red preferably)

Pink Salt (enough to create a thin layer on the bottom of your container)*

Ground Cinnamon and/or Ground Cayenne (enough to create a thin layer on the bottom of your container)

Dried rose petals** 

*Please remember salt can harm growing plants. When disposing of jar contents, if you'd like to make it plant safe, use Epsom salt instead of regular salt.

**If roses aren't your thing or you do not have any, substitute any dried flower that represent love in your mind.

Instructions 

1. Follow your normal procedure for prepping a magical space to perform your ritual.

2. Light your candle(s) and think about the people who bring love and happiness into your life. Why do they come to mind when you meditate on love? How do they enliven your life? What emotions and thoughts come to you as you think of them. Think about the blessings and love you'd like to see returned to them this week. Maybe it's a new job for a friend or a few hours of sleep for a new parent or much needed calm and peace for a loved one having a particular trying time right now. Maybe it's renewed love of life or passion in the bedroom. Love comes in many forms. Don't feel constricted to a single definition. you are wanting to send love and blessings to and why.

3. Write the name of each person you thought about on the pieces of paper you prepared. Roll them into tiny scrolls and tie them with a scrap of ribbon/string/twine. (Optionally you can just roll or fold the pieces of paper as-is. If you want to get really fancy with it, you can fold them into origami hearts. Sometimes the folding is part of the meditative act. Do whatever feels right to you.)

4. Add a layer of salt to the bottom of your contain. Draw a heart shape with the cinnamon and/or
cayenne on top of the layer of salt. If  you aren't feeling artistic or the opening of the jar is too small to draw a design, you can just layer the spices on the top of the salt. Add your pieces of paper interspersing your flower petals in-between and around the paper. 5. Hold the jar in your hand and picture in your mind again the love you'd like to see going to your named loves ones. See the light of your love flowing from you to them. See it surrounding their bodies in a soft, unbroken glow. See the love you send lifting their spirits and raising their joy.                                        6. Keep the jar somewhere safe where you will see it daily and be reminded of the love that you are sending out to each person. Touch it and renew the request in your mind each day.

7. At the end of the week, you can renew the spell for another week by meditating on it again and choosing the blessings you'd like to send, or if you feel it has done its job, you can burn the contents in a fire safe vessel (or compost if using plant safe materials).                              8. If not renewing, cleanse the jar so that it can be used again in future rituals/spells.

Inspired by a ritual found within Em, Mandi. Happy Witch: Activities, Spells, and Rituals to Calm the Chaos and Find Your Joy (pp. 180-182). Adams Media. Kindle Edition.

Daily Meditation - Elevating your Energy

Close your eyes, steady your breathing, and feel the earth beneath you  and around you. Bring to mind one thing in your life that embodies  _______________ (gratitude, love, family, peace, courage, balance, etc.) and focus on it. Feel the energies it brings come into and flow through your body. Where does it settle? Does it have a color? A smell? A general feeling? Continue to breathe slowly and steadily. Let the energy expand to fill your whole body and then spill over into your aura and out creating a bubble of energy around you. Imagine it bringing joy, love, and peace to all it comes in contact with, both to yourself and to others.

1) Gratitude

My gratitude is golden yellow like the light of an early summer sun. Warm and intense light without the burn. It's the color of dandelion flowers and smells of fresh cut grass. 

2) Family

The aura of my Family is green like early Spring grass. It nourishes and feeds me, body and soul. It smells like the leaves of a healthy tomato plant, sounds like the snap of beans, and tastes like a sweet, sun-warmed melon.

3) Love

Love is pink and red and purple. Soft pinks of new love, a little innocent and a little wild. Red hot for love that has come into its own, blazing bright. You can't look away. Deep wine red purple for love that is strong and mature and has withstood storms and battles and come out better for it. It smells like cinnamon and oak and vanilla.

4) Peace

Peace is blue like a pool of cool water that is so deep you can't see the bottom on it. No smell, no sound, nothing to touch but the water. It's full of silence and a sense of calm isolation. It's beautiful and welcoming and a bit frightening too. It's frightening because I don't trust what is just beneath the surface that I can't see.

5) Courage

Courage is gray and shines with flecks of silver. It's the strong steel beam that runs through the middle of the biggest structures. It's the reflection of the light off of shiny plate armor. It's the sharp edge of a blade. It smells like machine oil and the metallic tang of blood.

6) Balance

Balance is a kaleidoscope of browns, the color of every bark of every tree that reaches toward the sky and the color of every type of soil that covers the ground. It is strong and flexible and vital for life. It smells like the forest after a rain, clean and loamy and a tiny bit of decomposing vegetation. Life sprouts from the ground, we grow and live, and then we return to it again to fuel life anew after death. A continuous cycle.

Mixing Up Magic in the Kitchen - Holiday Edition

What recipes do you always make around the holidays? My family always made a few every year. They were a ritual. There were so many things attached to each food. Memories of childhood. Memories of family members who were no longer with us. The ritual of mixing and stirring and seasoning that seems so magical when it all comes out just as you planned. I will share a few of my favorites here.

I remember some about my Great Grandmother Smith before dementia began to ravage her, but not a lot. From the stories that my grandfather and grandmother told, she liked cooking, but it wasn't really her strong suit. There were a few dishes though that everyone loved, especially my grandfather, so we made them each year for the holidays. It was a way us to help him remember her and honor her.

Photo from Recipes.net

Old Fashioned Potato Candy

 

1 large white potato (peeled and boiled)

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/8 teaspoon salt

6-7 cups of powdered sugar

Smooth peanut butter of your choice

1 Tablespoon of water or milk

Food coloring (optional)

 

Peel and boil 1 large white potato until tender. Mash potato until smooth of lumps. Add vanilla extract and stir into potato. Add the tablespoon of water or milk if extra liquid is needed to smooth the mixture. If you would like to make your dough different colors, add in your food coloring now. Sometimes my great grandmother would split the batch into three parts and do red, green, and white for the holiday. We most often skipped the food coloring part.

 

Begin adding the powdered sugar one cup at a time until you are able to create a dough similar to a sugar cookie dough.

 

Roll out dough using extra powdered sugar to dust surface to prevent sticking. You want the finished dough to be about 1/8 inch thick when you are done rolling.

 

Spread peanut butter over the top surface of the dough. We always used smooth peanut butter because it was my family’s overall preference, but I suppose you could use crunchy as well for added texture.

 

Starting at one of the long sides, tightly roll up dough, like a jelly roll. Wrap in parchment paper and freeze for 30 minutes to an hour. Until firm. Slice into ¼ inch pieces and serve. Store in the refrigerator.

Who Am I?

Phenomenal Women Art Print by Eliza Reisfield

What am I? Definitions of womanhood have always sort of evaded me. None of them work. I do not fit into the neat little boxes that so many like to use to define who or what someone is or is not.

I’m not classically beautiful, but I’m not ugly. I’m not super model tall, but I’m above average height compared to most women I know. My boobs and my hips aren't in proportion, but I've been told both are pleasing. Curvy doesn’t cover it when you have a 12-13 inch waist to hip ratio. I will never be twig thin. I don’t want to be.  I try and stay at a weight I’m happy with and I feel healthy at. Sometimes I succeed, and sometimes I fail at that part. I’m guessing no matter what size you are, that’s how things go sometimes.

I’m not straight, and I’m not a lesbian. Bisexual is too limiting for me to embrace. Can I be person-sexual … omnisexual … just sexually sexual? I've never claimed to be easily definable.

I'm one of those 40 Something women who do not have children. I'm still not sure how I feel about that. Did I want children? Desperately. Am I going to have them? No. My reproductive organs weren't able to cooperate with the desire to reproduce. It wasn't in the deck I was dealt. I have cried a lot of tears over the last several years about it. Now, well, it just is what it is. My body can't conceive or carry. Adoption isn't an option for us. Fostering would grind my heart into dust. My desire for parenthood doesn't define me. I can be whole without it.

I have a wife who loves me and who I love beyond measure. She's my partner in whatever I do, and I can't imagine my life without her. I had a lot of ups and downs on my way to meeting her. I had relationships that were roller coaster rides through hell, and I had a couple of winners too. I had some fun nights with people I never intended to have relationships with, and I don't regret them. I've made mistakes. I've made some great friends, and I'm sure a few enemies too along the way. I've loved with all my heart, and my heart has been broken. I mended it without anyone's help, and I will always be glad for that. I lost myself, and I found a version of me that I liked better.

Who am I? I can answer that. I’m intelligent. I’m blunt. I’m generous. Sometimes I’m too thoughtful.  I’m slow to anger and quick to laugh. I'm flawed. I'm an introvert and an extrovert. I’m sexy. I’m shy. I’m feminine, and I’m masculine. For good or ill, I'm Southern. I’m not naturally trusting, but when I love, I love with everything in me. I’m creative. I’m soft-spoken. I try to be lady-like in my manners if not my thoughts. I’d like to hope I’m kind.