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