Dusty Altars

But the Power remains Strong.

Altars are very personal things for anyone who has one. Whether they be communial, family or personal ones, there, in most cases seems to be a need to keep them shiney and clean.

But what happens if that Altar becomes dusty, becomes disorganized?

I was thinking about this very thing just the other night as I went to bed and noticed my own personal Altar. Although it isn't dirty, to anyone who does now know me, it would seem to be neglected. This is far from the truth.

I have certian long term rituals that I never take down, that the only thing that is moved or replaced is the seven day glass candle. Everything else has its purpose and is fully active.

So what of it? What of the dust on the wood, or the dullness of the stones and/or chalice? Does it make a difference?

Some will say I am being disrespectful. That I am not showing proper respect to my craft as a witch nor the power that I am asking for. They will say that I shouldn't keep doing this and that I need to straighten up the cockeyed wand or polish the silver pentegram.

Why?

Here is my view. The things on my Altar are just that. Things. They do not breathe, they do not eat nor sleep. They are embued with only what I allow. My intent is firmly in the ritual. And the most important thing? I have faith that the rituals are doing what I need. Bringing the outcome that is best for me and mine.

When one pays more attention to how something looks, now shiney or polished they can get things, theres a chance they are not concentraiting on their intent enough. Of course that is only my opinion and I fully expect that many will see things differently.

What is the difference of having a dusty Altar and having no altar at all.

Come to think of it, do we need things or Altars to even expect our power to work? Why is it so important that we gather things to put on our Altars?

The power is there. The power is strong,

I guess my Dusty Altar isn't to bad after all.


This was originally written for an essay for a group I belonged too. But Recently I was thinking about it and decided to repost it here.

The Rest of the World

Sometimes I wonder where the rest of the world is compared to me. Of if I am too sensitive for the rest of the world.

Point.

I just read and heard that there had been an explosion in Norway, along with a gunman opening fire in a political youth camp.

So what do I do. I turn on the news station and hit my twitter and facebook accounts for more information.

What do I find?

Very little about the explosion or how others feel about it. I find instead a wall full of game requests, tweet after tween from ComicCon....And I sit rather still and wonder do they even know what has happened and if they care that lives have been lost.

I flashback to 911 where I actually had people on my friends list that couldn't understand why I was so upset because I lived hundreds of miles away.

When the Explosion happened in Bali or the various earthquakes/floods/natural disasters happened half way across the globe, I still seemed to be effected by it where many on my friends lists and even my own family and neighbors didn't seem phased about these things.

So I wonder. Where is the Rest of the world when it comes to these things. Are they that disassociated with death and destruction that it no longer bothers them? Do they not pay attention because it makes them feel safer not to acknowledge the deaths and horror?

Maybe it is just me. Maybe I am too much of a sensitive to bother with the news anymore. Too caring that a life, even a life I know nothing about across the world in a place I will probably never visit, to be understood.

I don't know. I just don't understand.




NOTE: This is not directed at any one in particular. No one has done or said anything to make me wonder if they are truly my friends. Those that know me, will realize this is something I have always wondered and struggled with. Bless you all who take the time to send prayers and anything else to those in harms way.

Depression of a Souther Wiccan Lady.

There used to be a time when a proper Southern Lady didn't talk about certain things. One of those things was depression. Even today you will find many women in the south, not admitting that they are might sometime have to struggle with depression.

Maybe it is because some of them still, to this day do not understand that depression, as many other disorders is an illness and not a sign of weakness, insanity or embarrassment.

For me, this is something I have truly lived and struggled with all my life and have spoken very little openly about. I can't tell you why, except there were just things one didn't talk about. And as my precious mother would say, "you just have to find a way to deal with it."

Easier said than done.

Depression is one of the reasons I haven't posted to this blog in a few days.

Lets just say my stop smoking has almost completely gone to the way of the dinosaurs. Granted I'm not smoking a pack a day, but I am still finding myself walking outside at least twice a day to have that little puff of hell.

But that isn't the point of this blog. I'll continue to work on that aspect of my life and my health.

This entry is strictly about depression.

I don't have any educational or medical answers. I have only myself and my thoughts.

When depression starts, it usually is something simple that sets it off. A word taken the wrong way, a glass left full on the desk, even something as simple as one of the pet trying to get close to be loved, only to have me push them away because my nerves are frayed.

If I can't get that depression under control quickly, it begins to spiral downwards. Each moment becoming darker and denser. I can't breathe sometimes. I can't find the energy to do simple things. Even my hygine seems to suffer. I don't care to brush my hair or shower. All I want to do is find somewhere and sit, simmer and fester.

This is one of those times. I can't see an end to anything at all. And it seems that everything that happens is much worse than it really is.

I know, deep in my soul that everything will work out. Whether it be finances or the well being of everyone here. But my emotions are unchecked. I yell at the slightest of things. I want to cry all the time and I really don't want that kind word or that gentle touch that is offered to bring me comfort. Its like I would rather suffer, to hurt in silence and alone.

I also know that this will not last. I will keep clawing my way up. I will keep fighting to make myself do the things that need to be done. I will look into the eyes that love me, human and animal and see that I am not alone. I will know that with each step I take, I have many behind me and in front of me reaching out, helping me to find that next steady step.

Yes I am a proper Southern Lady. Yes I am a strong Spiritual Woman.

Depression will not take me. I am stronger and with help, I will once again be that light at the top of the hill, reaching out for others who are suffering in silence. I will take their hands and I will help them to reach the top, and together we will survive to fight another day.

Is this a Suicidal Thought?

I'm fifty sumpin years old.

I'm sitting in our patio, looking at various things I need to do to start getting ready to make a container garden.

Over in the corner is a Schwinn bike my brother recently paid 40.00 for at a local pawn shop.

(see where this is going)

I've never been on a bike in my entire life. I've always been of the mind that if it is too far to walk, you go in a car. If it is not far enough to drive you walk.

Now, with my new found wanting to get back in shape, I'm seriously thinking about learning to ride this bike and using it at least once a day in the park across the street from me.

I won't try without the boys being around first.....but....is this suicidal thoughts?

And on the Third Day

Its late. Very late and I really need to be in bed sleeping soundly. However I'm wide awake, sitting here and wondering what to write about.

Well, it's day three. Today has been so rough. I found myself at one point today, without really realizing it, looking for an ashtray in my nephew's room for a butt. Just a small one. Maybe a puff or two.

When I realized what I was doing, I went across the hall and brushed my few teeth and used a mouthwash. I fussed at myself for not keeping a better eye on myself. But I've made it, three days down.

Its been really rough today. I've been on edge and frankly just wanted to scream at every little thing that happened.

When the boys got home, I thought that I could just relax a bit before I got up and started supper. Well that wasn't to be. Walt, my brother came in through the front door, not the garage. When I asked what was wrong, he took me outside and pointed above the front door. The facade was barely hanging on by a nail or two. I'm surprised that it didn't fall on me or anyone else when we walked through the door.

Took us an hour to get maintenance to get here and look at it. (have I said how badly I dislike this new so called handyman? No? Well I'll have to tell you the story of our first meeting and why I really would rather things fall apart than have him step foot in my home.

Anyway, fixer man came with a ladder and put some screws in the facade to keep it up and said he would be back tomorrow to fill in the gaps with silicone. Silicone?

*sigh* here's hoping and praying that the thing doesn't get blown down by the wind we are having at the moment.

Other Thoughts

Found out that in April, David Wilkerson was killed in a head on collision. David Wilkerson, for those who do not know him, is the author of The Cross and the Switchblade. He founded an organization called Teen Challenge and worked to get young people out of gangs and into Church. I enjoyed reading the book and even though I do not profess christianity as it is today, I feel the world has lost a good man.

And what about that actress, Yevette Vickers is it? The one who was the playboy centerfold and was in B movies? Found dead in her home. Well they haven't actually officially said it was her because, get this, her body was nearly mummified. They are saying she has been dead for almost a year. I can't imagine that. No one knew the woman had died for that long? I hope it was a case of her just going to sleep and passing, and not suffering along for an extended period of time.

Time for Bed. Maybe I will be over the worse of this detox and withdrawals in a few days. I can only hope and pray this is so. Not ready to give in just yet. I really do want to live smoke free.

Blessed Dreams Everyone.

Conflicted

I was going to sit and just write about my first day without smokes, and what kind of Beltane I had.

Then last night, everyone knows about what time, something happened. Breaking News on CNN, FOX, MSNBC and other stations. President Obama would be making a statement on National Security.

I can't tell you what I felt as I heard the news. Bin Laden was dead. Assassinated by Navy Seals.

I set up till almost three in the morning, switching from one channel to another, just watching and gathering any information I could.

I should be happy, yes?

Here is a man who put into place the most horrendous man made disaster, killing thousands of innocents. Destroying millions of lives.

I'm just not sure if I am happy about the way it happened.

Just something I'll have to contemplate.

Beltane Just around the Corner

And as usual, I'm not ready. Not household wise, not ritual wise and definitely not financially wise. I would love one year to actually be able to cook a whole special and very fancy Beltane meal for my family but this year, it will probably be simple like cornbread (or corn fritters, Mom loves those and I haven't made them in a long time) Maybe a cake with cream cheese frosting, and it depends on if I am going to have anything left over from payday (another month where rent is going to be sorely late due to boys playing when they shouldn't be playing) I might go out and get a brisket and make chili or something else everyone likes.

Beltane is also the day, remember I will be stopping smoking. I will spend tomorrow cleaning house, washing all my clothes and bedding and taking any other tobacco product up to Franks room where he will make his own or have to do without. I'm not tempting myself this early on by making his cigarettes. He has also promised to only smoke outside and not inside. If he holds to that promise he will be smoking less.

I am not holding him to the not smoking as long as he doesn't smoke around me. I seldom go into his room, and I have him some air freshener to use in case he just can't not smoke. I understand because my smoking place has always been while I'm on the computer (don't boo me, I know it isn't good for the electronics...so shoot me.)

But I'm looking forward to a new start. There are things I really want to accomplish that I have done in a very long time that will not only occupy my time but also start to heal my body and my mind.

Maybe you were thinking that I would fill this blog with mystical musings and wiccan lessons. Well I might but this is also my way of just letting you know how I think, that is when I'm thinking at all. No telling what you will find when I actually sit down and start writing. Maybe something about Wicca, maybe something enlightening or maybe something as mundane and well....a picture of my furbabies.