Detail of "The Thunderer" Kay Steele 2008


I have not yet blogged about anything but the unpleasantness that's been such a focus of my life yet. I think that's a sad way to be expressing myself to the world.





Life, such as it is, goes on. No matter what.





Although I'm still waiting for the figurative "other shoe" to drop, it's time I thought about something else.





And as much as I would love to say that I am deep enough that other concerns have not been on my mind, that would be a lie. I am very much like a little dragonfly, inside my head any way. Fluttering about, darting in the sky, so fast I have a hard time keeping up with my own thoughts.





So, instead, I want to ponder about myself, as an artist and what that means.





I've spent a lot of time recently struggling with it. I can't stop creating any more than I think I could willingly stop breathing. Yet, there's a shocking lack of interest in what I create.





Sometimes, it makes me want to quit, give up and burn each drawing and page of words before they every get any further. That way there's no disappointment. But what I try to remember, when I'm not feeling a surge of self-doubt or apathy, that if one person, just one, sees something I have created and they feel a strong emotion -- are given a moment of joy, reflection or even horror -- then it was worth my own self imposed feelings of worthlessness, to share them.





So although I feel sad that I am not great, I will keep striving to be. Even if I never get there, all that matters, in my own little blip in time, is that I tried to better myself, no matter what.

Emotion

I'm amazed at the depth of emotion I can feel for a little creature.

Yesterday, my little green cheeked conure, who my husband had lovingly named Latka, died. He got hit by a door, completely by accident. And I cried like my heart was broken. It was, in a way. He was a wonderful bird full of happiness, sweetness and joy. He never failed to be pleased to see us and pleased with everything around him. Then suddenly, he was still and quiet cradled in my hands.

In the last months, I've thought a lot about death. It's not as if I've never experienced it before. But this was shocking. Not just that it was an accident, but that I've been so caught up in, and preparing for other, inevitable death, that I was completely blindsided by it.

I was very, very fragile today.

So I took some time to rest myself, because crying at work is rather pathetic. I read a book I've read before called "Druids" by Morgan Llewellyn. It helped more than I expected.

I recalled that basics of the plot, but details are were forgotten. One of the characters, Briga, has experienced a horrific death and for a long time, she cannot accept it. It seems impossible to her that death is a part of life and she hates those she feels are responsible, even though the man who died, her brother, went willingly to his death.

Over time, she learns however. And with the help of love, she comes to have faith in the strength of the spirit. Eventually, she feels in her heart that death is just another step on the path. She says to the man she loves, but once hated, who has helped guide her on her own path, "We are all perfectly safe."

And its true. At least to me, with the faith I have and hold dear to my heart. Although I do forget sometimes.

Fading Light

I've been quiet. I know. Holding pattern.

I've had other things to say, thoughts to post, but it feels wrong to focus on myself right now.

But its coming soon now, and there's just nothing more to say about it. There is nothing quite like it. Watching someone strong and good fade away to a person you can hardly recognize. Someone you're just grateful can still recognize you from time to time.

So waiting.

And waiting.

It's this point, when even a miracle wouldn't help that makes everything seem a little bit grey, and washed out.

Apathy

I do get like this sometimes. Usually once I've managed to completely overwhelm myself and I've already gone past the "lets burn the house down and start over" stage, I get to the "whatever" stage.

Not exactly healthy. But honest, I suppose.

So there's been the family issues, my house being torn to bits inside and out and no time to be at home, a promotion at work, working on commissioned and personal artworks and trying to quit smoking.

Nothing earth shattering in all honesty. Nothing worth a novel or a clip on the local news. But I feel like I've been buried in the backyard up to my neck . . . and the lawnmower is coming.

I'll get over it. I always do. Just writing this down helps. It reminds me not to be a whiny, wimpy bitch.

So I'm off. Wish me luck!

Thunderstorm

I've had a lot of things roll through my mind recently. I've been thinking about old times; old dreams. But today we had a brief thunderstorm, with hail and high winds and rain so hard I couldn't see across the yard.

The weather was a lesson.

The worst part of this sort of thing isn't my own hurt. Its watching someone I love hurt so badly.

I was only a kid when my dad died.

It was 26 years ago. That's a long time to get on with life. I've lived so much more of my life without him than I did with him. It does seem so terrible to have lost so much time, but in a way that's always made it easier for me. I was young enough that I never had time to make those really deep memories.

My husband is 32. That's a lot more years of joy, pain and memories to sort through. And a lot more things to realize that he'll miss.

Of course, its just a guess. As sensitive as I think I am to what's going on in other people's heads, I can't know, all the way, what anyone else feels. Not even the person I know best in the whole world, after myself of course.

Its hard to watch. But that's the downfall of truly loving someone I suppose. That's the real difference between infatuation and love. When you love someone, its part of the deal to hurt even more because they are hurting, than your own pain ever causes.

Its a loop. He loves his father -- watching his father's pain is hurting him. And watching the pain of them both feels a bit like being caught in a thunderstorm without shelter.

There's likely to be damage left behind; branches broken. But eventually, the leaves regrow and the flowers heal.

So do hearts.

Just Movin' Along

Even now, I'm not immune to the inescapable happiness of a beautiful summer day.

Depends on the calendar you look at for the exact moment, but it's the summer solstice -- Litha, Midsummer -- and even for non-pagan types, just a lovely day.

This morning, on my way to work, I heard a song in the car that always makes me feel
like summer. So, on this happy note, I've decided to do homage to my friend Teej's blog http://www.teejalicious.blogspot.com/ (who I can't help but want to call Joe) and have my very own Song of the Day.

My SOTD is "Long Time" by Boston. Specifically because of a summertime, a "long time" ago. I remember being with Teej (Joe!) and Jake, while they were painting some garage. I have no idea who's garage this was, and I don't remember why they were painting it. But I do remember it was black and white. I remember that they were alternating between bitching and laughing a lot. I remember smoking Newport cigarettes. It was hot as sin and Boston's self titled album was playing. Probably on a cassette. It was 1992 after all.

The lyrics resonate with me now in a way they didn't back then. Its perfect for remembering. That summer was one of the best and worst I've ever experienced. But luckily, time has a way of tempering things. I am much the same person I was back then, yet completely different. I think of the line where it says "I think I should be going" makes me think of how we all have to go our own way. Not so much stay apart from each other, but not try to walk the same path. When you do that, you end up living a life that wasn't meant for you. And a lot of pain follows. There's pain on your own path too, but its pain you are wired to handle.

"Yeah. It's been such a long time, I think I should be goin', yeah
And time doesn't wait for me, it keeps on rollin'
There's a long road, I've gotta stay in time with
I've got to keep on chasin' that dream, though I may never find it
I'm always just behind it.

Well I'm takin' my time, I'm just movin' along
Takin' my time, just movin' along
Takin' my time, takin' my time…"

So here's to Boston, summer, old friends and finally being old enough to start to forget the bad stuff and remember only the smell of paint, hot pavement under bare feet and laughter on a perfect day a long time ago….

Convince my Heart

It occurs to me that if you read this, and know nothing else about me, you might be led to believe that I am sad and pensive.

I'm not.

I can be; true. Hell, I can even be wise at times. But more often, I'm stumbling about. I'm rambling sarcastic nonsense and there's usually dirt under my fingernails.

For a while, I'm likely to post my sadness. It is rather large at the moment. But even the worst of pains fade with time. I do also have a strange fear of seeming too flippant now. As if feeling joy or humor is wrong somehow. I know with my intellect that it is not.

My heart is harder to convince.

Precious Time

To watch someone slowly fade away is the most painful thing.

But there is a grace in it too. Unlike so many deaths, a slow death gives not just pain, but peace.

There's time to say the things that you need to say. If you have the courage.

I'm not always so good at speaking those sorts of things. But showing . . . that I can do.

It was my husband's idea; we made a DVD photo slide show for his dad for Father's Day. It was obviously stupid to buy "stuff" for him, since there isn't much time left for things. So we made slide shows of fishing and hunting -- his two favorite things in the world.

Those memories made him laugh and cry.


Not just for us, this grace of time; for him too. He gets a chance to remember, and say goodbye.

Little Pieces

This weekend was beautiful.

I was fishing. This is a love I got from my father. I lost it for a while, but when I met my husband, he brought it back into my life.

We use kayaks usually. And there is nothing quite like slicing through the water in near silence, feeling the heat of the morning sun on your back and kingbirds calling from tree to tree. Getting to participate so directly in the cycles of life. . . .the cliche goes, "Give a man a fish, he eats for today. Teach a man to fish, he eats for a lifetime."

That, and he feels duly connected to the whole world, which is a nice perk.

My father-in-law, who is ill, loves to fish. He's always loved it. But he gets cold easily now and isn't as strong physically as he was. So we bundled him into his snowsuit and launched the boat for him. My brother-in-law took my husband's kayak and I in mine, my father-in-law, husband and sister-in-law in the boat.

We caught fish; laughed. Joked about silly people on jet skis scaring the fish and each other tangling lines into trees hanging over the water.

Two girls at the boat launch in bikinis make my father-in-law laugh and say we should get a photo of him in the snowsuit and them in bikinis.

His sense of humor isn't sick at all.

Its still sad. There is a bit of pallor on the days. But I hold tight to this day and realize that even though it ends, its the life you have that matters.

Catch Water in a Sieve

I am, at my core, a control freak. Not to control other people -- I realized that was like trying to catch water in a sieve a long time ago -- but to control myself.

It's a good thing to have; self-control. But there can be a point when you've taken it too far. I also realized that a long time ago. I used to be very stoic when it came to expressing serious emotions. I would put on my stone face, and never cry.

I think I learned this particular skill as a child while my dad was dying. I had to be strong. Or so everyone told me.

As I've gotten older, I've realized that doesn't do me or anyone else any good. I've learned to cry again, but in my own controlled way. Usually.

In the last few days, as my family has been struggling with this new illness, I've been struggling too. Although there are still details to learn, it seems that soon we'll be dealing with death. Although death is always nearby -- its part of being alive--knowing there's a time line; so concrete. There's no way to hide it in the back of your mind and pretend we're immortal in the physical.

Its hurting me more than I expected. Its bringing back a lot of old pain I thought was gone. This man, who is my husband's father, has come to be like my father.

Its very easy for me to fall into despair. To think about the loss of my biological father and my grandfather, and just fall apart. It is easy to be selfish and deny this pain by creating different, personal pain. I see it happening around me; people hurting themselves to bury the real pain of loss that we can all feel coming.

I've felt myself doing this too. And at the same time, I'm trying to be very strong for the rest of the family. Trying to be someone who can be there to lean on.

I'm leaning now on my faith. I believe very firmly that we ARE immortal in the spiritual sense. What makes us alive doesn't just disappear. It continues. I'm not the type to speculate on HOW we go on, or even where we go. But I know there is not an end. I think we all have been there but just don't remember.

I also believe we are all part of one continuous stream of energy. I'm a pantheist.

Pantheism (Greek: πάν ( 'pan' ) = all and θεός ( 'theos' ) = God) literally means "God is All" and "All is God". It is the view that everything is of an all-encompassing immanent god; or that the universe, or nature, and God are equivalent. (From en.wikipedia.org/wiki/PanTheist )

This helps a little.

So I'm not at peace right now. But I try to hang on to the peace I know is there, even if I can't see it right now.

I can't fight nature.

I can't fight nature.

For some reason, a lot of people don't understand this. Either people think I'm a freak when I tell them that I am a witch -- or they think I'm some all powerful semi-deity.

Change the weather, cure diseases, end suffering . . . I can't do that. I would never even propose to try.

If you have a cold, I can help you feel better while your body does the healing. I can even help your body do the healing part a bit better. Emotionally hurting? I can council you; we can read rune stones or clouds or tea leaves or just talk. Spiritually lost or abused? I can guide you, help you look inside and discover where your path lies. Or at least point you in the direction of the woods and remind you to put on some citronella oil.

But I can't fight nature. I only work with her.

Sometimes that makes it hard. People who believe in a God that is outside, separate and parent-like make me a little jealous sometimes. I only wish I could pray and beg for things to turn out the way I want them to. But I can't. All I can do is delve deep and try to understand why they are the way they are, even if it hurts me.

Someone I care about, someone in my family, is sick. And it's not a cold. It's not something I can whip up some tea and soup to fix. I'm not going to be delusional and think there's really anything I can do.

All I really can do is wait for him to choose the path he wants to take, and try to smooth the way if I can. If nature will let me. . . .

Welcome to Cenhedlig

Cenhedlig means "pagan" in Welsh. My maternal grandfather was of Welsh heritage. It has become a part of my own personal mythology.

I'm a hedge witch. If you poke about on the Internet, you'll find a plethora of definitions for that. I haven't found one that really explains what I am and how I live. You'll have to make your own conclusions.

I promise I'll only write when I have something to say.

Hopefully, there will be some art, a glimpse into my spiritual journey and ramblings as I wander about through the woods.

Whatever I decide to share isn't intended as a guide for you -- just a look at someone else's path.

"You enter the forest at the darkest point, where there is no path. Where there is a way or path, it is someone else’s path. You are not on your own path. If you follow someone else’s way, you are not going to realize your own potential." ~Joseph Campbell