Wednesday, December 21, 2005

Yule 2005

Today is the shortest day of the year, thus the darkest. There has been alot of darkness in this world this year, with nature striking back, and a unjust war raging. Hopefully, tonight the pagans and witches of the world can dispel the darkness of nature and the soul, and pray that the lengthening of the days will bring a new prosperity of goodness and warmth to the world. The Sun's return will hopefully warm the hearts of all mankind. May you and yours have a very Happy Holy Yuletide!

Thursday, December 15, 2005

Famous men I think are incredibly hot, Anderson Cooper... the first of an ongoing series.

Anderson Cooper

I was just reading a really fun article at, "Talking sex with Mom - Sep 28, 2005" by Anderson Cooper. I hadn't realized before I read it that Gloria Vanderbilt was his mom. That had to be one hellova childhood! I have followed him on CNN for awhile. His reports on Hurricane Katrina, and currently, the Iraqi elections, have been some of the best in TV journalism, a genre that hasn't been the most impressive lately. Here is a man, though raised in the world of wealth and influence, who chose to be a war correspondent, even when he probably could have chosen any employment in the halls of power. He certainly doesn't mind getting his hands dirty to get the story. Smart, brave men turn me on, and this one is on the top of my list. Salute!

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Melodic answer to a universal problem

I love, for its sane and progressive attitude. Cary Tennis has a "Dear Abby" sort of column there, and this particular article touched me deeply. The question was: how does a woman handle a boyfriend who is freaked out about her sexual past. The woman's boyfriend, from the reader's telling, considered her dirty and "impure" and wanted her to fix her past (?!?). Here, in it's entirety, is the response:

"You are not a product. You do not have an expiration date. You are not sold used or new. Your value does not go down with every sexual experience. You do not have a finite capacity, like a phone card, after which you are used up.

Neither are you a substance that can be pure or impure. You are no less pure now than when you were born. You will never be less pure than you are right now.

Nor are you an object upon which men have left marks that your boyfriend may discover and interpret. You are not a public place were things are written for others to read. You are not an exotic land that men have visited and reminisce about in comfortable chairs.

You are not a collection of experiences like snapshots in an album, subject to perusal and approval by your boyfriend.

Your past is not a term paper for him to grade. Your past is not something that needs to be repaired. You can't get up on top of it with a ladder and fix it like a roof. You can't do anything about it except regard it with awed attention. It is like the sea, far beyond us, far too deep, far too wide, far too powerful.

You are not a product, or a substance, or an object. You are not any of these things. For want of a better term, you are a creature, a spiritual being.

We are creatures of flesh and light and movement. We go through life. Things happen. We do things. We remember things. Things hurt us, things delight us, things frighten us. We go on. We describe the things that have happened to us and look for the light of understanding in someone's eyes. We are creatures who love and hate. We love and hate and are loved and hated and we go on.

Our past is not a map on our skin, visible to the male gaze. Our past is something we tell. Once we tell it, people sometimes turn away. They can't bear it. They're not strong enough. They have to find the strength. We can't give them the strength. They ask us to put the past back in the past, but we can't do that either. Once we tell it, it's with us in the present.

So tell your boyfriend to lay off with all this talk. Tell him to get some wisdom and some understanding. Tell him to get some humility and some awe. Tell him to go sit by the sea and think about it for days on end until his head hurts and he's thirsty and all he wants is you -- however you are, whoever you are, wherever you've been, whatever you've done."

I, who have dealt with a shady past, appreciate this answer, even though my situation is different than the readers. This answer reaffirms, to all women, that who and what we are is sacrosanct, and not to be judged by imperfect people, no matter if you love them or not. I find it inspiring.

Monday, December 12, 2005


When people start relationships, they often wish the ghosts of relationships past would disappear. Unrealistic of me, but I was one of them. Daniel and I had a tiff last night over something trivial ( I feel now). He wanted to search for something on the internet, I knew another way of searching for it, and I annoyed him. Showing his emotional maturity, he walked out of the room until he cooled off. Now, if I had any emotional maturity, I would have been ok. But instead, that one adult act of him walking out until he controlled his temper sent me on a tail spin. I shook and cried, and it made it all worse. What should have been a situation where we just stuck our tongues out at each other or flipped each other off turned into a big production. Here's where the ghosts come in.

My late husband John had a temper. He was also very emotionally manipulative. He would stomp off at the least provocation, the least jealousy, and then give me the emotional cold shoulder for hours. He would sleep on the couch, and do everything in his power to make me feel small, for whatever offence. There were times in our marriage where we lived thousands of miles away from my family, and I don't make close friends easily, so I rarely had anyone to talk to when he did this. I would sit in empty rooms, feeling mortified and lonely and scared that he would just walk out and leave me in an isolated place so far away from help. The tables turned when he got sick and was dependent on me, and he did apologize for his behavior before he died. Scars on the psyche usually stay on the soul, and "I'm Sorry" normally isn't a strong enough salve to make them go away.

So, when Daniel walked out of the room, and wouldn't immediately return when I called, it sent a shockwave reaction right into the pit of my stomach. It was like a flashback. I instantly went into this "I'm-sorry-I-wont-do-it-again" appeasement-victim mode, sobbing. Daniel held me when I cried, and I tried to explain why I was so upset over something so stupid. He did rightly by assuring me that there was nothing to fear, he wasn't John. And he begged me not to be on eggshells with him, afraid of upsetting him. This is why I am writing this, to work it out so I never treat him that way. I know I am always safe with Daniel. It just triggered emotions I thought I had buried after John's death.

I love you Daniel, you are my rock. Just please be patient with your silly, skittish fiancee. She's afraid of Ghosts.

Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Going back to where you've been...

I've been thinking deeply about a program I just watched on PBS, The Appalachians. The vast places I have been in the last 16 years doesn't amaze me as much as the fact that I came back. My teenage life in Martin County, KY was pretty hellish. The mountains weren't beautiful to me, they were ugly, grey, strip mined prison walls in winter, and, it always seemed to be winter. We heated with a coal burning stove; I am allergic to smoke. Thus, I was perpetually sick, either with colds or upper respiratory infections. The smell of coal and wood smoke still make me nauseous. We lived 10 miles away from school, and the road to Inez was a curvy mess. So, I got carsick twice a day, to and back from school. The people around me not only didn't care about who I was, they resented who I was. They didn't care about the outside world, and there was nothing that could do or say to convince me what there was to give a damn about there. As soon as I could, I got out.

And I proceeded to almost get a college education ( I am a 1 1/2 year shy of a degree), and, get married to a man from a vastly different region from my experience(Connecticut). Then, I traveled. I was in Savannah, GA, long enough to grow to love, and still long for, the live oaks and and beautiful southern accents ( so much more elegant than my Appalachian guttural, as I heard it.). We moved cross country by train, and I grew to love Portland, OR and its blissful progressiveness. We then moved to Jackson, WY, and I saw how much one could be swallowed by the mere revelation that is the Teton mountain range. Finally we ended up in Key West, where I grew to love the freethinking lifestyle, and the Conch people, who will truly give you the very shirt on their backs in times of trouble. I ended back in Lexington, KY, after my husbands death, and thought it was punishment to be back in my home state. I grew used to Lex, it was a college town with all the arts and amenities I liked. But I also grew stale, and reckless from the stagnation. Then, came Daniel.

Daniel has also lived all over the country, and also married outside his home base. He ended up back home. The day he invited me to move in with him, to Pikeville, I cried. I tried my best to get him to Lexington, but I now know it wasn't meant to be. The Goddess has a plan, and it was Her plan to put me back here. Back amongst the demons I thought were still here. I was so very wrong. Pikeville has blossomed, it isn't the same place I remember from high school trips here. I was scared because I thought that the goblins of my youth were still here. All I had ever felt here before was oppression, impotence, and hopelessness. I have come to realize, tonight, after watching The Appalachians, is:
* I am my own woman, not helpless. I control what I think and feel. I feel empowered now that I am back here living on my own terms. I will make this place into what I chose. I am a witch, an artist, a swinger, and liberal. I will mold this place to fit me, not the other way around.
* This program shocked me into realizing the richness of culture that was here to begin with. The Scot-Irish that settled here, and from which Daniel and I both sprung from, also made their own life here, by their own rules. They either brought, or created anew, their own art. It humbled me that these very brave, independent people sought this area out as a spiritual and cultural haven for them and their offspring. I feel that, in so many ways, I have disgraced that heritage. I can live my life by my principles, as they did, and respect their sacrifice.

So, I have had my eyes opened once again. I intend to concentrate on learning the mountain arts the best I can, to the best of my ability, to do my part to honor my ancestors with the skill I have, that came from them all along.

Monday, December 05, 2005

First Emperor of the World

This is the site of the First Emperor of the World's Yahoo site. Might be the only thing that protects us against Republicans, the extreme Right and militant born again Christians !

Friday, December 02, 2005

Will somebody PLEASE sew my mouth shut....

...before I start getting phone calls from Richard Simmons? I feel huge, and ugly. I can't seem to stop eating. I don't know if its where I'm just getting used to being alone a lot, or subtle depression, or what. I hate to look in the mirror. I can't help but thinking back on those happy months where I was a honest to goodness runner, as some of my long suffering readers will remember. I was also on a MUCH higher dose of anti depressants. I've been trying to fight the urge to call Mountain Com. (the local mental health dept. for people with no insurance) to try to see about adjusting my meds. What the fuck is the matter with me?

My sentiments exactly.....

"I don't know how you feel, but I'm pretty sick of church people. You know what they ought to do with churches? Tax them. If holy people are so interested in politics, government, and public policy, let them pay the price of admission like everybody else. The Catholic Church alone could wipe out the national debt if all you did was tax their real estate."
-George Carlin-