Peacock Dreams

I read about Angie Zapata and feel grief. Another transwoman killed. Then I go outside and water the garden. Some baby plants need care.

People in the world are starving. I tell my friends in the US, when they want dinner, that they are only hungry. Never starving. I never will use that word to describe my state, though I've been chided for being particular about it in the past. I can respect the state of the women in Burkina Faso by not flippantly assuming I share one tenth of that kind of hunger.

There are more bomb blasts in India. I pause and close my eyes. Then I sit at my desk. Things need to be written. Emails answered. Contracts read.

Last week, I wrote this as an open question:

They teach about the supernal light, and the lifting of the heart, and the understanding of the bigger picture. They do not teach about the sadness…

And received this in reply:

Sadness is no different from the joy. Your sadness is for humanity, for the earth, and so is your joy. Your joy is also the Limitless, which is also in humanity. There is no difference. Do not try to make it so. Ease your heart and know that in its sorrow, it is perfect. Keep present with the journey of your soul. Do not worry. All is well. All manner of things are well. Drink from the well. Shine with its light. Praise the Gods, honor the ancestors, dance.

Life and death walk hand in hand. Joy and sorrow are held inside the heart. So I meditate. I exercise my body. I say my prayers. I light candles. I sit in the sunshine. I wonder. I get back to work.

Whatever you are feeling today, I hope that includes happiness. Take some pleasure in a moment. Right now.

In the midst of the sorrowing of the earth, something new is also being born. In Denver. In Ouagadougou. In Ahmedabad and Bangalore.


[thanks to Hecate for the link to the Washington Post article]

At the soup kitchen today, I was washing a huge pot during clean up and a guest paused on her way out and said, "That man just told me to take care of myself, but that is a big responsibility!"

I replied, "Yes, and we all need to take that responsibility!"

She said, "But that means I need to deal with my pride over having to accept help from other people, and the tangled web that creates!"

I breathed in and said, "And we all have to deal with that, too."

The exchange made me grateful. Grateful for her insight, grateful for the opportunity to share a moment with her, and grateful for my life.

Other things that make me grateful today are:

Riding my bicycle to the farmer's market for organic, local, produce. Strawberries, tomatoes, lettuce, broccoli, peaches, cheese... Yummy.

Seeing the movie Chris & Don: a Love Story with my loves last night.

And the other usual blessings: Deep love, great sex, health, flowers, birds, a home, satisfying work, art, books, and people who keep showing up for themselves (and others) and trying their best.

If you are against torture, you must also stop torturing yourself.

If you are against war, you must also cease warring with your friends.

Conflict is essential for growth, but not this slow wearing down of soul.

Cultivate joy, along with your garden - sun and water and laughter are also necessary.

Do two generous things today, one for yourself and one for another.

Re-enter the flow of All.

I have nothing to say, yet feel moved to speak.
The messages are everyone and everywhere.
No interpretation necessary.
No convoluted, pretzel-twisting thought.
Just Be. Let the sun wash your skin.
Listen to the birds. Hear the honking of horns.
Feel the hunger in your belly.
Notice how the keys feel underneath your fingertips.

When you are living in the sphere of understanding,
You learn to settle in. Worry is not needful.
Presence is the only requirement.
Our Teachers tell us so, but we are slow to comprehend.
What brings us back to... everything?
Aren't ribs gorgeous in what they embrace?
Divine light resounds in the darkest places.
There is nothing that is not included here.

Slow down.

California is burning and has been on and off for over a year. I haven't written about this. I didn't write about the oil spill last year, either. These are all things about which I can do little to nothing. I was out of town a lot during the oil spill crisis, so wasn't around for beach clean up. I am not a volunteer firefighter, though I have friends who are, and two brothers who are Captains and helped with the San Diego fires last year. These particular disasters have nothing to do with the US government, so I can't even complain about that.

While empathy exists in my heart for all the humans, animals, insects, and plants who have lost their homes or died in the fires, I just go about my life. Wailing and gnashing my teeth changes nothing for these beings. We live in Nature. We are part of Nature. We affect Nature, like we affect any other relationship. Every relationship has joy and sorrow. Every relationship has cycles we barely understand.

There are fires. And it is Independence Day. Independence from one sort of tyranny, that has slowly grown into yet a different kind of relationship, one I am not very easy about, for it runs the gamut of human experience, some things which on a global scale I still want to label "good" or "bad." Sometimes compassion is easier to access on a smaller scale. The US is very large, unwieldy. Difficult.

I love humans. Despite our foibles, greed, and pain. I love them. Spent yesterday helping a beautiful magic worker who's body and spirit are deciding whether or not to die. She's going through all of her internal processes - years of accumulation - and we helped her go through years of physical accumulation in the sorting of clothing. We then did work on her energy bodies, and some unbinding around things that need forgiving.

In this country, on Independence Day, we also need some forgiving. We need some cleansing. Celebration will happen too, because it is part of life. Families will gather. Food will be shared. And some weird patriotism that I don't understand will happen in towns across the map.

I am not a patriot. Rather, I am a lover and critic of the human race in all its glory. We burn and we shine. We go through inchoate cycles, like the fires burning the California hills. We live. We die. We try to figure things out. We become grass and air. We live. We die. We love. We create. We destroy. We live. We die. We love.

In the midst of all of that, every July 4th I have to ask "What in us is free?" There is something. Sometimes very small. Sometimes a little voice, a gesture, a poem, a vision. Find that freedom. Embrace it. Breathe it in. Let it move you and move from you. Help us all.

And then I recommend we go read some Frederick Douglass, because humans need inspiration.

Spiritual expression has many facets. While yesterday's post dealt with a part of soul that reaches up and out, today's deals with a part of soul that reaches way, way, way, down. Yeah.

In other words, I saw Joan Jett in concert yesterday. Oh. My. Gods. and. Goddesses.

She's hot, in case you haven't noticed. And she rocks hard. One thing that gave me great pleasure during the concert, besides Joan's winking and strutting, was watching a ten year old girl dancing as hard as she could for the entire concert. I thought "Wow! She's having an experience of raw female power coming at her at such a young age!" It lifted my heart.

Speaking of raw power, have I ever mentioned here how much I like testosterone? I understand that the US government relies on it far too much and could probably use an estrogen injection, that frat boys give it a bad name, and that in our little subcultures testosterone can have a very unsavory rap. As a consequence, we often end up with SNAGs who mean well but are sometimes annoying, and women who want to mother the world. I mean no offense to our estrogen awash sisters and brothers - and certainly am thankful for mothers everywhere, as well as men trying to get in touch with softness - but damn, a little testosterone is good for all the parts of my soul. I think we can be good parents, sensitive listeners, thoughtful, egalitarian, soft, and be strong and bad ass all at the same time.

Let me tell you, after the concert, I went home and used some of my own testosterone in a gorgeous worship ceremony. The Gods are good. And I look forward to being as sexy as Joan Jett in another seven or so years. Having my own Black Heart should help with the process.

Hope you are having a spiritually fulfilling day, regardless of your hormonal balance or which part of your soul you are currently tuning into. It's all holy to me.

Here is a note to my students at Feri Camp upon being inspired by this morning's spiritual reading. It is also a note, of course, to anyone else who feels inspired to read it:

...every personal center of selfhood is a point at which the power of the single, universal Self is concentrated. - Paul Foster Case in The True and Invisible Rosicrucian Order

Finding the Work of this God is finding the work of self linked with Self. It is reaching up and feeling the reaching down. We are beauty and darkness, light and change, and we Know this. There is nothing in us that is not necessary for this Work.

Destiny is our life entering the flow of the Limitless. We keep attempting to follow the current. The closer we come to the Work of this God, the stronger we feel the flow and the less our personality parts, fears, and ideas fight it. Ease opens inside of us and around us.

As Apprentices, we walk fairly blindly, attempting to feel our way forward toward what pulls us. As Students, we do not Know and Feel the reaching up and down, though we feel the pull of the current sometimes strongly and other times as a faint tugging. We are locked into struggle, in like and dislike, fear and running and longing. And that is OK. We practice where we are. We sense the struggle and stay with it. Over time, the struggle will, through our attentiveness to it, begin to turn into embrace. We will begin to walk the path of the Journeyman, toward Mastery.

The process is ever going. The flow is always there. We can pay attention. This begins with our attempts to "know myself in all my parts."

Welcome to the Path. Keep breathing.

Things that fill me with gratitude tonight:

Kick-ass, beautiful, heart opening ritual where the Gods (and humans - also Divine) showed up in full, sexy, powerful, loving force and that closed with dancing, singing, and drumming in a light rain that turned into a downpour. We were cradled by tall trees in the darkness, soaking wet, and we just kept at it, as torches gave light to faces grinning happily.

Snuggling up on a big couch with the same people, watching Shortbus together. Holding hands during the really sad parts and laughing loudly at the other bits. Enjoying the hotness and full humanity of it all.

Seeing people in love with life, practice, magic and the Gods, and feeling the same.

I am here, heart open, filled with joy, and wishing you a taste of the same.


(and sending kisses a couple of special folks out there, whom I carry in my heart)

I leave tomorrow morning for New Hampshire and Feri Camp, where I'll be teaching on "The Work of This God" and playing with a host of fine folk on beautiful land. This seems a fitting place to be on Pride weekend, as I don't like huge crowds and mega-corporate sponsorship. But love must celebrate as it will!

Since I will not be around to toast the rioting of the Stonewall Queens and tip my hat to all the others who organized and fought for their human rights, I will leave you with a quote from a book I bought when I was but a wee lass, and it was already quite out of print. Written in 1978 by radical Pagan Gay activist Arthur Evans the book was Witchcraft and the Gay Counterculture and the publisher was Fag Rag Books. In case you were wondering how I turned out the way I have, remember that I was reading the likes of this in formative years, along with my Plato. I hope you enjoy it:

By tapping into magic, we tap into nature's own power of defending herself, her corrective for "civilization." We give avenues of expression to a natural force for correction and balance that otherwise would never even be acknowledged. We are in league with the memories of the forest and our own forgotten faery selves, now banished to the underworld. Let us invoke our friends, the banished and now forbidden spirits of nature and self, as well as the ghosts of Indian, wise-woman, faggot, Black sorcerer, and witch. They will hear our deepest call and come. Through us, the spirits will speak again...

We are casting aside the shackles of the industrial patriarchy. Like butterflies, we are emerging from the shells of our past restricted existence. We are re-discovering the ancient magic that was once the birth right of all human beings. We are re-learning how to talk to the worms and the stars. We are taking flight on the wings of self-determination.

May you find something to be proud of this weekend.

Blessed be.

It is the longest day.
What do you reach for?
It is the longest day.
What is your power?
It is the longest day.
What in you strengthens?
It is the longest day.
What in you burns?

You are one with the limitless. Light in extension. You are the white tower rising to the sky. You are the glimmer on reflecting iris. You are the sun, gorgeous in ascent. Shine your light upon us.

Let us shine.



(And for those of you in the Southern Hemisphere, may your longest night prove fertile. May you gaze into the stillness and breathe.)

Tonight, I derived some small satisfaction from pointing out the rise of the gorgeous, golden, full moon to the members of the Covenant Worship Center walking from Wednesday night services to their cars.

They were very friendly and tolerant of the (crazy? nice?) white woman as I stood upon the sidewalk and said my prayers.

After the last Pantheacon, I received requests to post this prayer and never got around to it. Here it is:

Prayer to our own Godhood

Beautiful rose,
keep me from ignorance.
May I learn silence as well as speech,
depth as well as height,
freedom as well as restraint,
stillness as well as movement,
reason as well as joy.
May I walk firmly and
come into full possession of myself.
Through the guidance of the ancestors
and in the company of the Gods,
may I know myself and manifest my work.
May God Herself be seen,
a reflection in my eyes.




[My only request is that if you pass it on, please attribute it. Last time I posted it here, it got put into a rosary by someone - which is nice - without attribution- which is not nice. I discovered it when one of my students opened up her notebook and showed me this cool prayer she'd gotten. Anything written in my blog without attribution, has been written by me.]

Here is a bit of a rambling rant. It is not directed at anyone in particular, rather, it stems from a general feeling I've been getting from several sources over quite some time. I'm going to warn you in advance that it holds some of the "walked five miles in the snow uphill both directions" attitude. I'm aware of it. (Kids these days. Sheesh!)

Spiritual connection and unfolding takes time. I ask people sometimes, why they are so invested in internet discussion groups when so many of them are full of infighting and posturing. They often reply, "How else am I supposed to get information?" I ask them why they are in such a hurry to find someone who will work with them on initiation. They never have any substantial answers.

I blame our culture. I blame fast food. I blame huge amounts of information flowing past us every second. I blame the hurry, hurry, hurry most of us live in. I blame over scheduling and its counterpart of self numbing.

I blame the quest for Information vs. Knowledge.

Information is barely helpful. We need some information, true. But we need far less than we think we do. What is more helpful to we humans is a bit of information that we then take away, chew on, practice, and eventually reject or digest fully. Shoving more and more information into ourselves means we never assimilate much. There is no time for the slow sinking in of things. There is no time to establish deep relationship. We are simply always seeking more. More. More. And this will never satisfy us.

If that which you seek, you find not within yourself, you will never find it without. - Charge of the Goddess

Remember those words? They are true. Back when I started studying the Craft (I warned you about the "walking five miles in the snow in Southern California!") we sought what little bits of information were available. My friend and I drove for an hour in secret every Thursday to get taught anything, as our teachers would not really teach us the Craft until we committed fully to it and were of an age to join their coven. We were teenagers and this was not possible. So they taught us some about herbs, crystals, numerology. We read what books on "the occult" were around. We lit candles and incense at home, despite our parents freaking out about it, suspicious we were on drugs. We prayed. We figured out how to practice, in fits and starts. Slowly.

Finally, I found a teacher who would meet with me and give me more to do. I practiced. I prayed. I lit candles. I looked at myself. I studied. Mostly, I worked on my own. It was thirteen years between beginning to practice the Craft and asking for initiation in a tradition. It was two years after that that I received initiation into what is now my primary tradition. I never expected initiation. I just wanted to study. I just wanted to practice. I just wanted to live better, to grow, to learn theology, to pray. I put in a lot of work. Everyone I respect has put in a lot of work. No one I respect demanded initiation. No serious, long term practitioner I know freaked out because after a couple of years of showing up, they didn't get initiated. We all just kept showing up, every week, if not every day. We knew it was a long apprenticeship. We knew God Herself, the Goddess, spoke to us. We heard the whispering of the fey in the trees. We were interested in the Craft for, and of, itself.

Some traditions have tiered initiations, so people can mark "progress." Even in these traditions, nothing is guaranteed. My primary tradition has but one initiation. For most it takes at least seven years study to pass through that gate. Very few make it. The rest give up too soon. For some, it just isn't the right path. Others don't want to put in the time and work and deepening. Or they feel they "deserve" it, which is a sure sign they do not. Or they think initiation is an end, rather than a new beginning. We put in the time to even get context. Once the context is gained, and we have the fortitude and strength, then the real learning begins. And that takes a lifetime.

We live in a time where so much information is available, we mistake that for knowledge. So much is given, so quickly, we fail to realize that our human systems work more slowly. We require time and stillness for things to sink in, to assimilate the information, to grow knowledge. We want so much yet we are given so little that is valuable amongst the wash of garbage. Because of the great sea of chaff, we often miss the good kernels passed on, that if worked with diligently, will grow large and beautiful fields over time. We go for that which does not nourish us, really, and therefore, never get a chance to become golden. We never pass from information, to knowledge, to wisdom.

Let us study the turning of the leaves on the trees and listen to the different speeches of the wind. Let us sit with ourselves and discover our own voices. Let us engage in the process rather than seeking the goal. Let us take our time. Let us eat good, nourishing food, instead of cramming our minds and bodies and souls full of whatever comes along. Let us know ourselves and know our Gods.

Blessed be.

Prayer of the Dei

May I remain
Clean and upright,
Compassionate and whole,
Strong and deeply rooted
In my Work.
May I not be swayed
By the clamor of voices
All asking me to be
Something other than “I am"

I am that I am.
May all the worlds resound.


After tomorrow morning, I'm offline until Monday because I'm going camping with Feris and doing ritual in a stone circle! Yummy! Before I leave, however, I have two recommendations for you:

One is Poems from Guantanamo: the Detainees Speak which translates poems that were scratched onto foam cups or written in toothpaste and taken out of Guantanamo Bay by lawyers who then had to submit each line to the Pentagon for scrutiny. Some of the poems are quite beautiful. It is an unfortunate document, a testament to our times, and reminiscent of earlier writings of political prisoners.

The other is The Fall, a gorgeous film (very slow, very un-Hollywoodlike) that is a paean to the imagination. It is worth seeing for many reasons, not the least of which is Catinca Untaru - a Romanian girl in her film debut - the incredible costumes that include Charles Darwin dressed as a Lepidopterist Raver, and backgrounds filmed in 18 countries. (Then again, if you prefer more gripping action, you may hate it.)

Have a grand weekend.

I just found out that Paula Gunn Allen died a few days ago, on May 29th. A respected academic and poet, active in anti-nuclear and anti-war movements, she was an important voice in Native American and Lesbian literature and known as one of the founders of the Women's Spirituality movement. Needless to say, Gunn Allen was important to me during my formation as a feminist, Pagan, queer, poet and writer.

Here are some of her words:

The water rises around us like the goddess coming home.
(Arisen.) Same trip, all things considered, all times
and visions, all places and spaces taken into account
on that ancient journey, finally returned. The maps, the plans,
the timetables: the carefully guided tours into all manner
of futilities. Manners the last turn in the road: arid irony.

(Lady, why does your love touch me?
(Lady, why do my hands have strength for you?
(Lady, how could I wander so long without you?

- excerpt from He Na Tye Woman


What is remembered, lives. I'll drink a glass of water in remembrance.

For all the Kabbalists (and Qabalists)in my audience, just wanted to let you know that there is a sexy article on ein sof by Reb Cooper in the latest Parabola.

(Sorry for the lack of italics. I am posting from my phone while reading said magazine, listening to hip hop, and drinking a pomegranate margarita - hail Persephone - on the deck of a sun drenched East Bay bar. Yes. God Herself is everywhere and life is a blessing.)

May the Boundless fill your life with blessings.

(addendum: Patrick Laude's article on the Tao? Equally sexy. Can't wait to read this whole issue.)

Take care of what is in front of you today, and tomorrow will take care of you as well. - LVX

Jason Pitzl-Waters of the Wildhunt is on leave and asked several of us to guest blog this week. I posted the following this morning, and am cross-posting it here. If you don't know Jason's blog, you should subscribe. It is the best Pagan blog on the net, hands down. Please leave comments at WildHunt. Commenting over there will let Jason know I didn't let him down.



What does community mean to you? Is it a place of magic? A gathering of like-minded people with a single goal? A place to get taken care of? A place to belong? Singing and drumming around the fire? Doing good work with others?

Come closer. I will tell you my vision. It is a vision of the present, and a vision of the future. All time is now, and magic is here, so everything is possible. The moment is reality. We breathe together, and the vision opens.

( Read more )

Vigil Strange I Kept on the Field One Night

Vigil strange I kept on the field one night;
When you my son and my comrade dropt at my side that day,
One look I but gave which your dear eyes return'd with a look I
shall never forget,
One touch of your hand to mine O boy, reach'd up as you lay on the ground,
Then onward I sped in the battle, the even-contested battle,
Till late in the night reliev'd to the place at last again I made my way,
Found you in death so cold dear comrade, found your body son of
responding kisses, (never again on earth responding,)
Bared your face in the starlight, curious the scene, cool blew the
moderate night-wind,
Long there and then in vigil I stood, dimly around me the
battlefield spreading,
Vigil wondrous and vigil sweet there in the fragrant silent night,
But not a tear fell, not even a long-drawn sigh, long, long I gazed,
Then on the earth partially reclining sat by your side leaning my
chin in my hands,
Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you dearest
comrade--not a tear, not a word,
Vigil of silence, love and death, vigil for you my son and my soldier,
As onward silently stars aloft, eastward new ones upward stole,
Vigil final for you brave boy, (I could not save you, swift was your death,
I faithfully loved you and cared for you living, I think we shall
surely meet again,)
Till at latest lingering of the night, indeed just as the dawn appear'd,
My comrade I wrapt in his blanket, envelop'd well his form,
Folded the blanket well, tucking it carefully over head and
carefully under feet,
And there and then and bathed by the rising sun, my son in his
grave, in his rude-dug grave I deposited,
Ending my vigil strange with that, vigil of night and battle-field dim,
Vigil for boy of responding kisses, (never again on earth responding,)
Vigil for comrade swiftly slain, vigil I never forget, how as day
brighten'd,
I rose from the chill ground and folded my soldier well in his blanket,
And buried him where he fell.

- Walt Whitman

Freedom is a two-edged sword of which one edge is liberty and the other responsibility, on which both edges are exceedingly sharp; and which is not easily handled by the casual, cowardly or treacherous hands. - Jack Parsons

When speaking of things like swords and freedom, there is a part of us that likes to pump ourselves up and think, "Yes! I can wield that sword!" We grasp it, full of hubris, and get cut. Or we wallow and think, "I can never carry it," and the sword moves further from our hands.

Parsons is speaking both of personal and social freedom. Both of these are based on power. Without power, there is neither liberty nor responsibility. The ways of this are simple. We begin where we are. How much power do you feel right now? How free are you inside? What responsibility do you have the wherewithal to take today? Whatever amount of power you have, whatever amount of responsibility you take, whatever amount of liberty you have, take up that particular sword. Don't worry if it is larger than his or smaller than hers. If you are feeling weakened today, take on a small responsibility. Recognize the power you have to feed the cat, if you cannot save the world.

We all start where we are. We take courage. We are firm. We do not betray our souls. We show up to our lives. We recognize that we have impact. We recognize that there is a tool in our hands and we need to use it wisely, to the best of our current abilities.

And together we build culture, each doing her part.