Praise the return of Spring!
Sunday, February 26, 2012
The Daffodils are Blooming
I don't really have anything to say except that in spite of freezing overnight temperatures and a recent blizzard on the mountain, the daffodils have bloomed!
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Blessed Imbolc
While today is a day reserved to honor Brigid (the Celtic Goddess of healing, the home and the forge) it is also a day reserved in the Pagan blogosphere for sharing poetry as part of the Brigid Poetry Festival. This tradition has been happening every Imbolc for 7 years. So I thought I would post something myself. I wrote this last year to honor Persephone, of course.
In Her Hand She Held The FlowerDid she know that fateful hour?That her place would be as queen.When in her hand she held the flower.Could she imagine all that power?On the throne, she would be seen.Did she know that fateful hour?She escaped from that ivory tower.She felt a love not obscene.When in her hand she held the flower.Deep in snow, the earth will cower.In the winter she goes unseen.Did she know that fateful hour?The brand new vines climb the bower.In the spring the world will green.When in her hand she held the flower.With each season changes devour.Moaning winds wail and keen.Did she know that fateful hour?When in her hand she held the flower.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Reaching for the Sun
This is just another turn on the wheel. Another cycle of life, death, and rebirth. I have trusted Persephone to follow her down many times in my life. I follow every time knowing that beyond the darkness there will be sunlight. The turning of the seasons has never failed me, and my own personal seasons are turning along with them. Big changes are terrifying. I should just snuggle deep in the darkness of the winter waiting patiently for my turn to reach up toward the sun.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
A Date With Adonis (Repost)
It isn't often that I simply repost things here. But I have been thinking about Persephone and Adonis lately, so this short story came to mind. I just spent some time up at our land in North Carolina and it was so beautiful in its starkness. Waiting for both Persephone and Adonis to return with a green blanket to cover the earth makes me both grateful for what has happened and excited for what is to come.
“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”
They sat in the field of asphodel, their red and white checkered picnic blanket laid out beneath their legs. He sat with his perfectly toned and tanned legs crossed. She lay back stretching her white limbs out from her body. He was silent in answer to her question. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt and didn’t look at her.
“I understand,” she said. “I know we’ve run out of things to talk about.”
“Its not you,” He said finally, quietly.
“I know. I know better than anyone else, really. The Olympians are always figuring out ways to divide our time between there and here. I hate being a pawn in their ridiculous games. It is okay if you’re thinking about her. I owe her a debt myself.”
Adonis looked up at her, his dark green eyes inquisitive. She knew he wanted to hear the story. She was certain he had heard it before, but she knew he liked to hear her tell it.
“Yeah. It is all Aphrodite’s fault. My mother had made it quite clear that I was never to be married off like some commoner. She wanted me to be elevated to the very pinnacle of the Greek pantheon – an eternal virgin like Hestia, Athena and Artemis.” Adonis smiled a little and so Persephone responded, “you better believe I’m glad that didn’t happen!
“Anyway, Aphrodite was angry about it, as you might expect. She didn’t want anyone out of her realm of dominance that wasn’t already. She thought hard about another God who might need a partner. Several gods had auditioned for the job, including Hermes who had been Aphrodite’s lover once. But she decided on Hades, my very own uncle. I think she might have been a little jealous of me. Or maybe thought I would be too much of a rival, that by her hand she could banish me to the deepest recesses of hell. And so she bade Eros to shoot Hades with the arrow of love. The rest is history, as they say. I have been here with my husband ever since. And I do love him.”
“Then why did you fight so hard for me?” asked Adonis.
“Maybe to get back at her a bit? I am not angry at her for introducing me to Hades. But I am angry that she started the battle over where I get to spend my time. That is the part of my life in which I had no control. When she brought you here, she was begging for me to help her. She needed to hide you because she knew she couldn’t keep you to herself.” Persephone reached out with her slender fingers and gently traced his jaw line. “You are beautiful, you know.” Adonis smiled and looked away shyly.
“Tell me about her.”
His eyes brightened. He looked straight into her violet eyes. “I know she has a bad reputation. And I know she has had a lot of different lovers. But there is something magnificent about her. She has a draw. A magnetism. I love the feeling of her hair in my hands and the weight of her body in my arms. Her hair smells like roses and her skin glows with gold.” Adonis leaned over Persephone’s prone body, his face very close to hers.
She turned her face away from him. He brushed her ear with his lips. She knew they both thought about different lovers, but he was the embodiment of passion so why not make the best of it. “You never describe me like that,” she said.
“You are very different,” he whispered. “Your hair smells like daffodils. Your eyes shine like amethysts. Your skin is like the glorious moonlight.”
Persephone sighed. “I haven’t seen the moon since summer,” she said.
“Me neither.”
She turned her face to him. She knew that when the seasons changed they would be apart again. They might be in someone else’s arms all together. But this night was their night, their longing was a yearning for the springtime.
“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”
They sat in the field of asphodel, their red and white checkered picnic blanket laid out beneath their legs. He sat with his perfectly toned and tanned legs crossed. She lay back stretching her white limbs out from her body. He was silent in answer to her question. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt and didn’t look at her.
“I understand,” she said. “I know we’ve run out of things to talk about.”
“Its not you,” He said finally, quietly.
“I know. I know better than anyone else, really. The Olympians are always figuring out ways to divide our time between there and here. I hate being a pawn in their ridiculous games. It is okay if you’re thinking about her. I owe her a debt myself.”
Adonis looked up at her, his dark green eyes inquisitive. She knew he wanted to hear the story. She was certain he had heard it before, but she knew he liked to hear her tell it.
“Yeah. It is all Aphrodite’s fault. My mother had made it quite clear that I was never to be married off like some commoner. She wanted me to be elevated to the very pinnacle of the Greek pantheon – an eternal virgin like Hestia, Athena and Artemis.” Adonis smiled a little and so Persephone responded, “you better believe I’m glad that didn’t happen!
“Anyway, Aphrodite was angry about it, as you might expect. She didn’t want anyone out of her realm of dominance that wasn’t already. She thought hard about another God who might need a partner. Several gods had auditioned for the job, including Hermes who had been Aphrodite’s lover once. But she decided on Hades, my very own uncle. I think she might have been a little jealous of me. Or maybe thought I would be too much of a rival, that by her hand she could banish me to the deepest recesses of hell. And so she bade Eros to shoot Hades with the arrow of love. The rest is history, as they say. I have been here with my husband ever since. And I do love him.”
“Then why did you fight so hard for me?” asked Adonis.
“Maybe to get back at her a bit? I am not angry at her for introducing me to Hades. But I am angry that she started the battle over where I get to spend my time. That is the part of my life in which I had no control. When she brought you here, she was begging for me to help her. She needed to hide you because she knew she couldn’t keep you to herself.” Persephone reached out with her slender fingers and gently traced his jaw line. “You are beautiful, you know.” Adonis smiled and looked away shyly.
“Tell me about her.”
His eyes brightened. He looked straight into her violet eyes. “I know she has a bad reputation. And I know she has had a lot of different lovers. But there is something magnificent about her. She has a draw. A magnetism. I love the feeling of her hair in my hands and the weight of her body in my arms. Her hair smells like roses and her skin glows with gold.” Adonis leaned over Persephone’s prone body, his face very close to hers.
She turned her face away from him. He brushed her ear with his lips. She knew they both thought about different lovers, but he was the embodiment of passion so why not make the best of it. “You never describe me like that,” she said.
“You are very different,” he whispered. “Your hair smells like daffodils. Your eyes shine like amethysts. Your skin is like the glorious moonlight.”
Persephone sighed. “I haven’t seen the moon since summer,” she said.
“Me neither.”
She turned her face to him. She knew that when the seasons changed they would be apart again. They might be in someone else’s arms all together. But this night was their night, their longing was a yearning for the springtime.
Monday, January 16, 2012
The Song of Persephone
Because of my time celebrating with Celtic Pagans, I developed a love for a particular poem called The Song of Amergin. This blogger does a very nice write up of the poem. I have used this poem as a basis for a couple of poems I have written myself. It just flows so well and feels so god-like when spoken aloud.
I have always wanted to do a similar poem for Persephone but for some reason I just never got to it. Recently, Dionysian blogger Sannion posted his 99 Adorations and the Pagan blogosphere lit up with other version of the prayer.
I didn't feel it necessary to write my own Adorations for Persephone, as it had already been done and was done nicely. Instead I decided to revisit my old idea of writing the Song of Persephone.
I have always wanted to do a similar poem for Persephone but for some reason I just never got to it. Recently, Dionysian blogger Sannion posted his 99 Adorations and the Pagan blogosphere lit up with other version of the prayer.
I didn't feel it necessary to write my own Adorations for Persephone, as it had already been done and was done nicely. Instead I decided to revisit my old idea of writing the Song of Persephone.
I am the maiden with the daffodils
I am the queen of the underworld
I am the savior from death
I am the daughter of the earth
I am the protector of pigs
I am the juice of the pomegranate
I am light in the darkness
I am as strong as iron
I am as gentle as the grasses
I am not lost but I am sought
I am whose name must not be spoken
I am the last face of sweetness
…who creeps forth from the rocks
…who whispers the mysteries
…who is honored in life and death
Saturday, January 7, 2012
The Pagan Poetry of Edna St. Vincent Millay
Yesterday, Star Foster wrote this post over at the Patheos Pagan blog. She speaks about one of her favorite poets, Peggy Pond Church, and how her poetry evokes Pagan ideas and images in a time when Paganism wasn't necessarily a thing.
This made me think of one of my favorite poets, a woman who lived and wrote poetry in the 20s and 30s and manages to evoke very specific Pagan themes in her writing.
I first learned about Edna St. Vincent Millay when I was very young. My mother had been an English teacher before I was born and she still had several volumes of poetry on our bookshelves. I specifically remember a time when I was attending Catholic catechism. Because I went to public school, I took catechism classes as a kid. They were usually taught in the home of another parishioner. At one teacher's class, I remember that us kids rotated who would bring in and read an opening prayer for the class. I think I might have been in the 6th grade, just on the cusp of teenager-hood. I spent a lot of time agonizing over what prayer to read and couldn't think of anything. My mom suggested looked for a poem in one of her poetry books. And that was when I discovered Edna St. Vincent Millay.
The poem I read at catechism that night was "Afternoon on a Hill."
Of course, at the time, I was Catholic but the reverence of nature clearly resonated with me even at that age. No one new at that time how deep my relationship with the cycles of nature went, least of all me. Those those cycles of nature would eventually speak to me through the story of Persephone and would lead me to honor her throughout my life.
Curiously enough, that brought me back full circle to the poetry of Edna St. Vincent Millay. It was after became devoted to Persephone that I discovered some of Millay's other poetry. I don't think anyone can say that Millay herself was Pagan but her use of mythology in her writing was undeniable.
She wrote about Daphne and Apollo in "Daphne".
She wrote about Odysseus's wife in An Ancient Gesture:
But none of these make me feel like one tiny little poem does. It is said that she wrote this poem when she was mourning the death of her lover, another woman - certainly scandalous in the 1920s!
This made me think of one of my favorite poets, a woman who lived and wrote poetry in the 20s and 30s and manages to evoke very specific Pagan themes in her writing.
I first learned about Edna St. Vincent Millay when I was very young. My mother had been an English teacher before I was born and she still had several volumes of poetry on our bookshelves. I specifically remember a time when I was attending Catholic catechism. Because I went to public school, I took catechism classes as a kid. They were usually taught in the home of another parishioner. At one teacher's class, I remember that us kids rotated who would bring in and read an opening prayer for the class. I think I might have been in the 6th grade, just on the cusp of teenager-hood. I spent a lot of time agonizing over what prayer to read and couldn't think of anything. My mom suggested looked for a poem in one of her poetry books. And that was when I discovered Edna St. Vincent Millay.
The poem I read at catechism that night was "Afternoon on a Hill."
I will be the gladdest thing
Under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick one.
I will look at cliffs and clouds
With quiet eyes,
Watch the wind bow down the grass,
And the grass rise.
And when lights begin to show
Up from the town,
I will mark which must be mine,
And then start down!
Of course, at the time, I was Catholic but the reverence of nature clearly resonated with me even at that age. No one new at that time how deep my relationship with the cycles of nature went, least of all me. Those those cycles of nature would eventually speak to me through the story of Persephone and would lead me to honor her throughout my life.
Curiously enough, that brought me back full circle to the poetry of Edna St. Vincent Millay. It was after became devoted to Persephone that I discovered some of Millay's other poetry. I don't think anyone can say that Millay herself was Pagan but her use of mythology in her writing was undeniable.
She wrote about Daphne and Apollo in "Daphne".
Why do you follow me?—
Any moment I can be
Nothing but a laurel-tree.
Any moment of the chase
I can leave you in my place
A pink bough for your embrace.
Yet if over hill and hollow
Still it is your will to follow,
I am off;—to heel, Apollo!
She wrote about Odysseus's wife in An Ancient Gesture:
I thought, as I wiped my eyes on the corner of my apron:And this is an excerpt of her poem "Invocation to the Muses" which she read at a dedication at Carnegie Hall in 1941.
Penelope did this too.
And more than once: you can't keep weaving all day
And undoing it all through the night;
Your arms get tired, and the back of your neck gets tight;
And along towards morning, when you think it will never be light,
And your husband has been gone, and you don't know where, for years.
Suddenly you burst into tears;
There is simply nothing else to do.
And I thought, as I wiped my eyes on the corner of my apron:
This is an ancient gesture, authentic, antique,
In the very best tradition, classic, Greek;
Ulysses did this too.
But only as a gesture,—a gesture which implied
To the assembled throng that he was much too moved to speak.
He learned it from Penelope...
Penelope, who really cried.
O Muses, O immortal Nine!—
Or do ye languish? Can ye die?
Must all go under?—
How shall we heal without your help a world
By these wild horses torn asunder?
How shall we build anew? — How start again?
How cure, how even moderate this pain
Without you, and you strong?
And if ye sleep, then waken!
And if ye sicken and do plan to die,
Do not that now!
But none of these make me feel like one tiny little poem does. It is said that she wrote this poem when she was mourning the death of her lover, another woman - certainly scandalous in the 1920s!
Be to her, Persephone,
All the things I might not be:
Take her head upon your knee.
She that was so proud and wild,
Flippant, arrogant and free,
She that had no need of me,
Is a little lonely child
Lost in Hell,—Persephone,
Take her head upon your knee:
Say to her, "My dear, my dear,
It is not so dreadful here."
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Climbing a Mountain
I was surprised to find that blogger and adventurer Drew Jacob had mentioned me in a blog post published yesterday. I was happily reading the post thinking "Yes, I agree with this!" when I came to this paragraph:
Wow. He even links to my Tiny House blog and the donation page for the Zulu Orphan Alliance. I was stunned. I was more stunned because this isn't the first time Drew has mentioned me in his blog.
Other people always see you differently than you see yourself. I don't consider myself heroic in any way. In fact, what I do is nothing compared so some of the heroes I've been working with in South Africa.
But one thing I do agree with is that profoundly changing your life changes everything. If we had never decided to build a tiny house, we would have never had the opportunity to travel to South Africa. Small steps became bigger steps and next thing you know, we were doing this thing. I don't want to live a conventional life. I've done that. I want to live an extraordinary life. And while it is exciting to see people like Drew talking about the things I do, I don't do any of it to be famous. I want to live an extraordinary life for ME.
One of my primary mottos or mantras is to Just Do It. If there is something you want to see happen, I promise you it won't just happen. You have to make the change you want to see in your life. I have done this. I am doing this. I have failed just as much as I have won. Sometimes that happens, and it has to be okay. But if you put forth the effort to make positive change in your life, positive change will happen. Maybe not in the way you expected, but it will. In order for anything to happen, though, you have to actually do it.
I had to laugh, though, when Drew suggested that I didn't want to climb a mountain. He's right. It just isn't my thing. But interestingly enough, climbing a mountain was one of the things that gave me the strength to do what I am doing now. You can read about it in the Winter 2007 issue of Neokori's newsletter, He Epistole. (Go here and click on Issue #15).
You might not be interested in climbing a mountain. Neither is Laura LaVoie, as far as I know. Her challenge was to build her own tiny house and downsize her life to fit into it. Then she went to Africa to use her house-building skills to help orphaned children.
Wow. He even links to my Tiny House blog and the donation page for the Zulu Orphan Alliance. I was stunned. I was more stunned because this isn't the first time Drew has mentioned me in his blog.
Other people always see you differently than you see yourself. I don't consider myself heroic in any way. In fact, what I do is nothing compared so some of the heroes I've been working with in South Africa.
But one thing I do agree with is that profoundly changing your life changes everything. If we had never decided to build a tiny house, we would have never had the opportunity to travel to South Africa. Small steps became bigger steps and next thing you know, we were doing this thing. I don't want to live a conventional life. I've done that. I want to live an extraordinary life. And while it is exciting to see people like Drew talking about the things I do, I don't do any of it to be famous. I want to live an extraordinary life for ME.
One of my primary mottos or mantras is to Just Do It. If there is something you want to see happen, I promise you it won't just happen. You have to make the change you want to see in your life. I have done this. I am doing this. I have failed just as much as I have won. Sometimes that happens, and it has to be okay. But if you put forth the effort to make positive change in your life, positive change will happen. Maybe not in the way you expected, but it will. In order for anything to happen, though, you have to actually do it.
I had to laugh, though, when Drew suggested that I didn't want to climb a mountain. He's right. It just isn't my thing. But interestingly enough, climbing a mountain was one of the things that gave me the strength to do what I am doing now. You can read about it in the Winter 2007 issue of Neokori's newsletter, He Epistole. (Go here and click on Issue #15).
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Adorations to Persephone and an anthology
This post is two fold.
The other day, I saw this post over at Sannion's House of Vines. I thought to myself "Hey, that is a really great idea!"
Apparently, I wasn't the only person who thought so. Another Persephone devotee, Melitta Benu,
was inspired to create her 93 Adorations to Persephone. As she mentions in her post, many of the associations are personal to her so I don't know that I will find myself using her prayers verbatim. But it is lovely just the same.
Of course, one of the reasons I began following Melitta's blog is that she is the Editor of a new devotional anthology dedicated to Persephone. I am eagerly awaiting the publication of The Queen of The Sacred Way. One of the reasons I am excited is because I have an essay in the book, but I am also excited because of some of the other authors included, such as Charles Stein. I can't believe I will be published in a volume along with people like Mr. Stein.
So stay tuned for the publication date!
The other day, I saw this post over at Sannion's House of Vines. I thought to myself "Hey, that is a really great idea!"
Apparently, I wasn't the only person who thought so. Another Persephone devotee, Melitta Benu,
was inspired to create her 93 Adorations to Persephone. As she mentions in her post, many of the associations are personal to her so I don't know that I will find myself using her prayers verbatim. But it is lovely just the same.
Of course, one of the reasons I began following Melitta's blog is that she is the Editor of a new devotional anthology dedicated to Persephone. I am eagerly awaiting the publication of The Queen of The Sacred Way. One of the reasons I am excited is because I have an essay in the book, but I am also excited because of some of the other authors included, such as Charles Stein. I can't believe I will be published in a volume along with people like Mr. Stein.
So stay tuned for the publication date!
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Shrine
I was just going through some of my old photos for a different project and I found this one.
I love the placement of the dying hydrangea with the image of Persephone and Hades along with a simple pomegranate oil lamp, a clay pig and the incense. It seems so serene and peaceful. I thought I would share it on this New Year's Eve as we cross the threshold from 2011 to 2012.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Beer, Dionysos and Christmas
Every post I've put here lately has begun with apologies for not being around much lately. I have to say I am still processing many things that have happened to me recently and am also processing some of the things I am about to do. I am about to jump headfirst into what looks like a shallow pool and all I can hope for is that I won't break my neck.
But no matter what scary things lie before me, I always love to celebrate the winter holidays with my friends and family and knowing they are around and support me means everything to me.
Even though Persephone is very close to me all year long I can't help but honor Dionysos this time of year. One of the many divine births to happen around this time of year was Dionysos himself. Also, the very essence of him is celebratory.
I don't make wine, but I do brew beer and I do find that a contemplative and celebratory way to honor my gods. This year, I made a Yule Gingerbread Porter to share with our friends and family. I'm pleased with it - a hearty brown porter made with ginger, allspice, clove and cinnamon to make it taste like gingerbread. I hope they like it but most of all I hope they know that I made it to celebrate them and to celebrate life and love and happiness.
But no matter what scary things lie before me, I always love to celebrate the winter holidays with my friends and family and knowing they are around and support me means everything to me.
Even though Persephone is very close to me all year long I can't help but honor Dionysos this time of year. One of the many divine births to happen around this time of year was Dionysos himself. Also, the very essence of him is celebratory.
I don't make wine, but I do brew beer and I do find that a contemplative and celebratory way to honor my gods. This year, I made a Yule Gingerbread Porter to share with our friends and family. I'm pleased with it - a hearty brown porter made with ginger, allspice, clove and cinnamon to make it taste like gingerbread. I hope they like it but most of all I hope they know that I made it to celebrate them and to celebrate life and love and happiness.
 |
| Dionysos and my Yule Gingerbread Porter |
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Prayers to Athena and Artemis
We just got back from our trip to South Africa that I had mentioned before. I can't even begin to articulate some of the things that happened. If you want a general recap, go to our tiny house blog.
But I wanted to offer the followings Homeric hymns to Athena, for her Wisdom and Justice and to Artemis, protector of children.
I begin to sing of Pallas Athena, the dread Protectress of the city,who with Ares looks after matters of war, the plundering of cities, the battle-cry and the fray.It is She who protects the people, wherever they might come or go.Hail, Goddess, and give us good spirits and blessed favor!
Athena, may you grant us wisdom in the decision we'll have to make and allow those decisions to be just and fair.
Muse, sing of Artemis, sister of the Far-shooter, the virgin who delights in arrows, who was fostered with Apollo. She waters her horses from Meles deep in reeds, and swiftly drives her all-golden chariot through Smyrna to vine-clad Claros where Apollo, god of the silver bow, sits waiting for the far-shooting goddess who delights in arrows.
Artemis, may you please watch over our project and protect the children above all other things.
If ever I have poured libations in your honor, hear my prayers.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Libations to the Gods and Ancestors
Thursday, October 13, 2011
In which I brew beer for the Goddess
As you all know, I brew beer. I brew beer because it is awesome. I brew it because I like to drink it, but also because I enjoy the art and science behind a good brew. It has a certain magic.
Recently, I brewed a specific recipe. It turned out to be delicious, which is exactly what a brewer hopes for. It was crisp and clean and just a little bit of the fruit flavors came through. But I didn't just brew it to have a tasty beer beverage to enjoy. I brewed it as an act of love and devotion to Persephone and her mother. This is why I chose a wheat beer base, for Demeter, and added pomegranate for Persephone. In one sense, it is an offering to bring about a long term goal of mine. I want to be a brewer. Not just a homebrewer, but I want to start my own beer company or brewpub. And not in the whimsical "one day I'll do this" sense, but in the "I have a plan I will execute" sense. I want the Pomegranate Wheat to be one of my staple beers and so I thought I might want to get to practicing. There are a lot of modifications I will make the next time I give it a try. After tasting it, I thought of several different ways to get a more complex flavor out of the brew. But even still, it was a delicious beer bringing together the symbols of two goddesses.
So here is to Persephone and to Demeter. May they bless my path. And may I always be able to offer them a Pomegranate Wheat Beer to thank them.
Recently, I brewed a specific recipe. It turned out to be delicious, which is exactly what a brewer hopes for. It was crisp and clean and just a little bit of the fruit flavors came through. But I didn't just brew it to have a tasty beer beverage to enjoy. I brewed it as an act of love and devotion to Persephone and her mother. This is why I chose a wheat beer base, for Demeter, and added pomegranate for Persephone. In one sense, it is an offering to bring about a long term goal of mine. I want to be a brewer. Not just a homebrewer, but I want to start my own beer company or brewpub. And not in the whimsical "one day I'll do this" sense, but in the "I have a plan I will execute" sense. I want the Pomegranate Wheat to be one of my staple beers and so I thought I might want to get to practicing. There are a lot of modifications I will make the next time I give it a try. After tasting it, I thought of several different ways to get a more complex flavor out of the brew. But even still, it was a delicious beer bringing together the symbols of two goddesses.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
My Equinox Celebration in Pictures
I was up in Asheville this weekend working on our tiny house. Since I was there just a day after the Equinox, I wanted to pour libations and present offerings to Persephone at her Glade.
I offered her some local Asheville beer, the Highland Brewery Octoberfest, Clawhammer. Since craft beer is one of my favorite things, it seems very appropriate for me to offer it to the Goddess. The autumn seasonal beer was perfect. I poured most of it out for, her but I certainly had a few sips myself. I also picked her a small bouquet of purple wildflowers. I placed the offerings at the base of her statue in the glade.
A really cool black pointy spider had set up shop on the statue as well. I considered removing her, but somehow she seemed to belong and Persephone didn't seem to mind the company. I did find out that this kind of spider is called a Spined Micrathena and apparently their are really common. And I just love their name. Apparently, only the females make webs and all of the ones I seem to walk into with my face are Micrathena webs.
And to to honor Persephone and the changing season, I wanted to repost this poem.
Little girl running
Blonde to her autumn mother
Dancing among the daffodils
Embracing butterflies
Little girl laughing
Springtime laughing
Womanhood come little girl
Blossoming to fullness
Breasts and hips and legs
All full, beautiful
Little girl grown
Summer laughing
Then He come up
Man, misunderstood
Not the mother love
Daughter love
And with him is wed
Autumn laughing
The underworld reached
Little girl becomes queen
Queen of darkness
Last face of sweetness
Little girl is the wise one
Winter laughing
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Autumn in the Air
Even here in Atlanta, I am starting to feel the pull of the seasons. I didn't intend to be away from this blog for so long, but there are just so many other things going on. We have been making a push to finish the Tumbleweed House so it is 100% inhabitable by next Spring.We are also getting ready for our trip to South Africa, which is feel is being looked after by a very different Goddess. But I still can't deny the beauty of the Autumn Equinox as the time where Persephone descends once again into the Underworld to be with her husband.
I thought, to honor the turning of the season I would provide a "Greatest Hits" of the past posts on this topic.
Like the song Meet Me on the Equinox by Death Cab for Cutie. Just pretend it isn't tied into the movie Twilight.
There is also the post I did last year on the Equinox. I had woven a crude crown of orange flowers and placed them on Persephone to honor her return to the Underworld.
And I always do enjoy a good seasonal recipe from the Greek cookbook.
And, last year I also posted this photo I took of Persephone up at the land in Asheville.
And not to mention, the Autumn Equinox marks the two year anniversary of this blog.
So, Praise Persephone and this changing season. Rejoice in her descent. I leave you with this poem, my favorite by John Keats; To Autumn.
I thought, to honor the turning of the season I would provide a "Greatest Hits" of the past posts on this topic.
Like the song Meet Me on the Equinox by Death Cab for Cutie. Just pretend it isn't tied into the movie Twilight.
There is also the post I did last year on the Equinox. I had woven a crude crown of orange flowers and placed them on Persephone to honor her return to the Underworld.
And I always do enjoy a good seasonal recipe from the Greek cookbook.
And, last year I also posted this photo I took of Persephone up at the land in Asheville.
And not to mention, the Autumn Equinox marks the two year anniversary of this blog.
So, Praise Persephone and this changing season. Rejoice in her descent. I leave you with this poem, my favorite by John Keats; To Autumn.
TO AUTUMN.
1.
SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.
2.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
3.
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Detroit 2011 Film Festival: Persephone
On one hand I like this because it was made in Detroit, which is where I am from and still have a Stockholm Syndrome-esque draw too. On the other hand, it is titled Persephone and seems to be some level of retelling of the story. On either hand, it is freaking awesome.
Persephone from Adam N. on Vimeo.
Persephone from Adam N. on Vimeo.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Photoshopping Persephone
Not too long ago I was having a conversation with a friend over coffee and I mentioned that I have never seen Persephone the same way twice. I figured, as a goddess, she doesn't have to have a corporeal form so why not change it up a bit. My friend said that sounded like Persephone, since she is very "Changey". Each time I do see her, I know precisely who she is but the constant reinvention in my mind means I can never accurately describe her. I write stories and poems about her and all of them feature very different physical attributes.
I just ran across this video. While the story is extremely simplified and not entirely accurate (the myth had no baring on the names of the seasons, after all), I think the Photoshop work on the statue is lovely and kind of play into my image of Persephone as an ever changing Goddess.
I just ran across this video. While the story is extremely simplified and not entirely accurate (the myth had no baring on the names of the seasons, after all), I think the Photoshop work on the statue is lovely and kind of play into my image of Persephone as an ever changing Goddess.
Friday, August 5, 2011
You can never go home again.
It was Thomas Wolfe who said that you can't home again. This is something I think about all the time. I think about Place. What is home? Where on earth do we belong and does it matter?
All my life I wondered where on this planet I actually belonged. Where I was born was a circumstance, not a choice. I knew that I didn't want to be there forever. The place didn't call to me. I felt no magic. Detroit has its own kind of magic, most of which I feel is negative right now though I realize that is a biased opinion. It is actually heartwarming for me to see people who care so much about the city where I grew up, but it wasn't the place for me. Being surrounded by all the decay and all the depression was not good for me.
When the opportunity arose to move to Atlanta I jumped at the chance. It was absolutely the right decision for me at that time. Atlanta was a great move and this city is fantastic and there are lot of things I like about it. I was pleased by how easily I made friends here and how quickly we fit into life in the south. I knew the South was where I wanted to be, but was Atlanta my place on earth?
I always yearned for a place that would make me feel connected. I didn't know what that felt like so I kept waiting for it. I was concerned that my desire for place was masking another problem. Were there things about myself that made me feel inadequate that I felt only a "change of scenery" would fix? I spend a lot of time with introspection and you know what, while I'm certainly not perfect I really do like myself. I am proud of myself and my accomplishments. I am always looking for ways to improve. But having a connection to a place was not about fixing any problems, it was about filling a need. Fitting that last piece of my life story puzzle.
Some of my favorite music is about places. It is s staple of folk music. John Denver fell in love with Colorado. Jason Isbell sings about his home in Alabama. Cowboy Mouth is rooted in New Orleans. I want to feel that kind of draw and that kind of magic when I think of a place - my place. Everyone's place is different, but everyone has a place. People might even have more than one place. I didn't know what it would feel like but that is the beauty of it. Then, as soon as I set foot in Asheville North Carolina, I knew it was home. It has been a great journey to come to that place. We are still in the middle of it as we build our own little house in the woods. There is magic in that place. Something I can't explain. I feel better simply being there. Certainly that doesn't mean it will fix all my problems or make everything perfect, but it is comforting to be embraced by the mountains and the trees. It is comforting to know I belong somewhere.
They say it is the journey, not the destination that matters. The journey shouldn't stop just because you've found your place in the world. But there is certain comfort knowing that there is a place you can come back to rest your head.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Morning Theft
I heard this song for the first time last week. My partner, Matt, played an open mic at a local folk music venue. While there, another kid performed this song. It made me think of Persephone and Hades. I had no idea it was by Jeff Buckley until I Googled it.
Time takes care of the wound, so I can believe.
You had so much to give, you thought I couldn't see.
Gifts for boot heels to crush, promises deceived
I had to send it away to bring us back again.
Your eyes and body brighten silent waters, deep.
Your precious daughter in the other room, asleep.
A kiss "Goodnight" from every stranger that I meet.
I had to send it away to bring us back again.
Morning theft, and pretender left, ungrateful.
True Self is what brought you here, to me.
A place where we can accept this love.
Friendship battered down by useless history,
Unexamined failure.
What am I still to you?
Some thief who stole from you?
Or some fool drama queen whose chances were few?
Love brings us to who we need,
a place where we can save
A heart that beats as both siphon and reservoir.
You're a woman, I'm a calf.
You're a window, I'm a knife.
We come together making chance into starlight.
Meet me tomorrow night, or any day you want.
I have no right to wonder just how, or when.
And though the meaning fits, there's no relief in this.
I miss my beautiful friend.
I had to send it away to bring her back again.
Time takes care of the wound, so I can believe.
You had so much to give, you thought I couldn't see.
Gifts for boot heels to crush, promises deceived
I had to send it away to bring us back again.
Your eyes and body brighten silent waters, deep.
Your precious daughter in the other room, asleep.
A kiss "Goodnight" from every stranger that I meet.
I had to send it away to bring us back again.
Morning theft, and pretender left, ungrateful.
True Self is what brought you here, to me.
A place where we can accept this love.
Friendship battered down by useless history,
Unexamined failure.
What am I still to you?
Some thief who stole from you?
Or some fool drama queen whose chances were few?
Love brings us to who we need,
a place where we can save
A heart that beats as both siphon and reservoir.
You're a woman, I'm a calf.
You're a window, I'm a knife.
We come together making chance into starlight.
Meet me tomorrow night, or any day you want.
I have no right to wonder just how, or when.
And though the meaning fits, there's no relief in this.
I miss my beautiful friend.
I had to send it away to bring her back again.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
As I embark on a new spiritual journey...
I have been away. Not because I am abandoning this blog, but I have been doing a lot of other work that has taken some time away from this writing. Most notably, I have an opportunity to go to South Africa this November to help an organization plan a sustainable building project.
Certainly, being involved with the tiny house movement and sustainable living was a big factor in this process. But there was something else that led me to this path as well - My Gods. In May of 2010, I lost a friend. Unfortunately I hadn't spoken to that friend in a while and his death hit me very hard. As the seasons turned, by October I still felt the loss but I also felt gratitude for having known him. If I had never known him, I would have never met the wonderful people who live in South Africa and do much for the children there.This project may have never happened.
Persephone is certainly with me on this journey because she is always with me, but there is another Goddess I must honor during this time. Artemis. I have never been particularly close to Artemis, but I feel her calling me as I begin planning for this project. She is so much more than just a Goddess of the hunt. She is also a protector of children, especially girls. As if I needed additional confirmation of her presence, one of the organizations that my friend works with is Operation Bobbi Bear. Since the bear is one of Artemis' most sacred animals, this seems appropriate and powerful.
I do, of course, consider the project deeply spiritual. I am grateful and humbled to be involved and marvel at all the things that have led me to this place. If you want to know how you can help, check out the Zulu Orphan Alliance website and their projects page.
Here is a poem I wrote to honor Artemis a couple of years ago. May she bless me on this journey.
Certainly, being involved with the tiny house movement and sustainable living was a big factor in this process. But there was something else that led me to this path as well - My Gods. In May of 2010, I lost a friend. Unfortunately I hadn't spoken to that friend in a while and his death hit me very hard. As the seasons turned, by October I still felt the loss but I also felt gratitude for having known him. If I had never known him, I would have never met the wonderful people who live in South Africa and do much for the children there.This project may have never happened.
I do, of course, consider the project deeply spiritual. I am grateful and humbled to be involved and marvel at all the things that have led me to this place. If you want to know how you can help, check out the Zulu Orphan Alliance website and their projects page.
Here is a poem I wrote to honor Artemis a couple of years ago. May she bless me on this journey.
Huntress, Artemis, you are silver moonglow
Sunlight stops his chariot to watch your dance
Hunter’s arrows in shadows of the oak tree
Artemis Bless Me
Spring-like water, mountain streams over rock beds
Wildlife; deer, bear. Wilderness Personified.
You are the cat and serpent, the dog, the bird
I praise Artemis
I give gifts to your temple. Your land; wild, free
I honor you; honor your brother hand in hand
Starlight, Moonlight, Dark Twilight you are Goddess
Artemis Bless Me
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