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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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. 

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.

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. 

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