So yes. I haven't posted any blogs in a ridiculously long time. I'm not entirely certain why I didn't, or why I decided today was going to be the day that I'd do it again. I'm not even going to postulate the reasoning here.

There have been plenty of big things that have occurred; things that I certainly had many thoughts about. But for some reason I was in a place that I didn't feel like I had to share them. I've come to a point in my life that I am able to work out things inside myself. I also realize that most people, outside of a general voyeurism, could give two shits about what happens in my head.

But hey, I'm going to write something anyway.

Anyway, of all things, I'm pregnant. More than six months pregnant actually with a little girl. It still blows my mind on a regular basis that I'm going to have a kid. I know people do this all the time -- I'm far from the first person in the world to make a baby. But it is a shocking thing to do it nonetheless.

I used to think it wouldn't matter if the baby came from inside your body and from your genetics, or if you took in the baby from somewhere else. I think I may have been wrong. This is not to say that you cannot love a kid that isn't your blood; far from it. But there is something quite amazing about realizing there is a little person living inside your body and you actually MADE it.

I still can't entirely wrap my head around it.

I am also entirely convinced I'll screw her up. But I suppose, my parent's screwed me up but I still turned out okay in the long run. I mean, I'm messy and temperamental; I'm excessively opinionated and I can be a cynical yet oddly self conscious bitch; BUT I'm also loving and artistic and smart (at least I can fake it well) and some how I manage to function as an adult and a wife.

So we'll add mommy to the list and see how I manage.

The Explanation

I have spent an enormous amount of time trying to put into words what I believe. Every time I feel like I've failed. Be it written or spoken, when I try to articulate the feelings, the deep meanings; I come up hideously short.

Or even more ridiculously sounding like a flake. Which does worry me more than it should. When it comes down to it, what am I trying to prove? Who do I need to impress?

It hit me today.

I'm trying to impress myself. There is a very logical and cynical part of me that thinks everything should be black and white. Everything should fall into neat little categories of true and untrue, right and wrong, good and evil. But it doesn't. Nor does faith fit into any neat little category I can file under a simple heading.

I have spent a lot of time lately feeling like garbage. I felt as if I had failed at some unattainable ideal and I should just quit. Since I could never be the best I should be nothing at all, just a leaf thrown along in a raging current.

I am a fool for thinking and feeling that way.

While it is true that I cannot change the raging current of the river, I can choose to shoot the rapids instead on agonizing over the bumpy ride. I can revel in the spray on my face and the sound of water over rocks, instead of holding myself so tightly in fear that my bones shatter like glass against the boulders.

I cannot control the current of my life either. It will be what it will be. Everyone around me has their own plan and their own path they are following and I need to accept this.

Well, that and shoot my demons in the head instead of trying to placate them.

I do not doubt there will be death throws as the demons die. I will still feel the desire to categorize myself, my beliefs and the things around me. But I am the one in control of my own self, of my soul, of my spirit. And no matter what happens, whether it be a calm place where the water widens out and moves slowly and peacefully, or a plunging waterfall . . . I will be as strong as my life requires. And then just a little more, for good measure.

The Path Into the Wood.

Although in my very first post, I spoke of faith and of my path, I know I have never taken the time to share what that means, what it is. I have spent far too much time lamenting reality and bemoaning my existence.

Enough of that nonsense.

Now it is time for the business of living and being alive. And as a wise man once said, (that wise man being Joseph Campbell, probably the closest thing I've had to mentor despite his dying before I had ever heard of him) "Life is without meaning. You bring the meaning to it. The meaning of life is Whatever you ascribe it to be. Being alive is the meaning."

I call myself a hedge witch, a pagan.

My parents were recovering Catholics. But I was baptized to keep the peace, and when my dad was sick when I was a kid, I went to church regularly with my grandparents. However, I never was involved in any religious anything really, never had first communion, confirmation, etc. . . . but it felt like something was missing. I had a lot of friends who's parents were highly religious and I joined in, tagged along, joined and participated in various Christian youth groups and tried very hard to become a good Christian.

I was a member of a WELS (Wisconsin Evangelical Lutheran Synod) youth group in the beginning of high school. And it was all beginning to seem rather hollow. By this times I'd had several occult type experiences, seen things that Christianity couldn't explain except with "the devil" which seemed like a bad excuse to me. But I kept trying. Until the day I got into a discussion with the pastor/vicar/whatever the heck he was that ran the youth group. He told me that without question, my uncle, who is homosexual, was going to hell. Didn't matter if he was a good, decent honorable man. He was going to hell. Period.

And I said that any god who would punish someone for LOVING could kiss my ass.

That was 1992.

I went about as an occultist/agnostic for a time after that until I discovered Taoism. The teachings about balance and interconnectedness really spoke to me. But as hard as I tried, it still felt lacking and a bit sterile.

Then I went nuts for a while. Literally. I essentially had a breakdown and hid under my bed for 3 years. Only half out of hiding, I was wandering about the library and picked out two things, Drawing Down the Moon by Margot Adler and The Masks of God on audio tape, the interviews with Joseph Campbell and Bill Moyers. I read the book and drove around in my car listening to the tapes. I listened to the program "Love and the Goddess" and had to pull the car over for all the sobbing.

I knew I'd finally found the start of a new path. That was 1997.

It's evolved from then, certainly, but that still feels like one of those "moments of clarity" that come so rarely that they are worth celebrating. . . . but frankly, at that point I was so messed up, the fact that I over came my constant fear of everything to start on this path. . . . only something so in-tune with my deepest self could have done that.

To be honest, I worried for a while that my new found faith was a phase, but it was not. Amazingly, my faith has changed, but never wavered since that moment.

Now there is more to it than this. There were many nudges and signposts along the way, leading me towards . . well leading my on my journey anyway. We'll get to that.

"You enter the forest at the darkest point, where there is no path. Where there is a way or a 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 potential."

~Joseph Campbell

I'm Still Here

I'm not so verbose at this blog thing.

I really don't feel any desire to air all my dirty laundry out in public. I have a respect for people than can and do. I don't know what it is -- although likely it's a self-esteem thing -- but I can only share so much these days, even with people I once was able to tell everything.

As I get older, there are a lot of things I know with great certainty I will never share with anyone.

So never be offended if I am silent, hidden, remote. It is the way that I am and I am happy about it. As strange as that might seem . . . .

Private Delusions

In general, I am very private.

This may come as a surprise to the people that know me. However, most of my thoughts and feelings I keep to myself. And for good reason. Some things lose their meaning when they become ink on paper or pixels on a screen.

Some thoughts are exceedingly foolish when they see the light of day.

I have, on and off, for years kept a private journal. But now, and for a long time, I have not written a single word. I'm not entirely sure why that is, but I think it is the same reason I share my thoughts so infrequently. At least my deep abiding thoughts anyway.

Occasionally, I just can't hold it in and I blurt something out that I've wanted to say for a long time. Usually it causes strife. But there are times and thoughts that I cannot keep inside, even if I intended to.

I know this is all rather vague, but that's the way it needs to be. I am quite certain that there are things that I should not post on the Internet for the whole world to see, and still be able to keep my dignity. More than I care to admit, I do concern myself with the opinions others have of me.

It's funny, though, what that means to me. I am not all that concerned with whether or not people in general choose to like me. There are very few people who's ideas of me make any impact. Which is an exceptionally cold thing to say, I know, but honest. I am okay with being despised, as long as it is for the right reasons.

Hate me for who I am if you must, but don't have delusions about who that is. Chances are, if you look down on me, in my mind, your opinion doesn't matter. There are only a select few individuals that have touched my life who's opinions mean something to me. If you are one of those few, I'm sure you know who you are.

How to tell? You know more than what I've written here. Perhaps you've seen me truly angry, or you have seen me cry. Or you've been there when my mouth has gotten out of my control and you have seen, if just for a moment, the truth of who I am.

Or you haven't, and you have no idea what I'm talking about. And I'm the one that's delusional.

I wonder if anyone really knows me at all.

Obituary

ROBERT JOHN ( McDaniel) STEELE

Robert Steele, of Congress Drive in the Town of Trenton, passed away at his home Monday evening, February 2, 2009, after a valiant battle with lung cancer. He was 58 years old. Robert John was born in Rockford, IL on August 22, 1950, son of Robert H. and Shirley Ostrander Steele. He grew up in Boscobel and eventually his family moved to Fredonia and then Port Washington, where he graduated from Port Washington High School in 1969. After his schooling, Robert began working at Voeller Mfg. After the company was sold, he was hired by the new owners, now called Voeller Mixers, Inc.

Along with his 38 years as a machinist at Voeller, he held many part-time jobs. Supporting his family was his top priority. On May 11, 1974 he was united in marriage with Bonnie Lee Schmucker at Friedens Evangelical Church in Port Washington. Together they built a home in the Town of Trenton and raised two sons. Other than his family, his passions were fishing, hunting, his Harley and gardening. Robert was also very involved with the Port Washington Summer Theatre Company for 28 years. He did everything from building sets, playing cameo roles, working stage crew, selling concessions and videotaping to crowd control. Robert will always be remembered for his off-beat sense of humor, his honesty and his integrity.

Robert is survived by his wife Bonnie Lee and their sons Lucas (Kay) Steele of Sheboygan and Nathan (Deborah) Steele of Port Washington. He is further survived by his father Robert H. Steele of Wauzeka, sister Tamara (Mark) Short of Kenosha, parents-in-law William & Doreen Schmucker of Lake Geneva, brother-in-law Alan (Mary) Schmucker of Port Washington, other relatives and many dear friends.

He is preceded in death by his mother Shirley McDaniel and step-father Vince McDaniel. In lieu of flowers, memorials to the family are suggested. A Memorial Gathering will be held at Memories, (Hwy LL and Lake Drive in Port Washington) on Sunday, February 15th. The family will receive guests from 5-6PM, and will be followed by a celebration of Robert’s life. At his request, Robert’s remains will be placed at a family cemetery near Boscobel, WI.

Endings and Beginnings

I feel like I've been waiting to write this forever. And yet, it feels like it hasn't been nearly long enough.

My father-in-law passed away tonight. And finally he's free of the body that was failing him and free to be at peace. Certainly, I have my ideas of what that means, and I know he had his. They were not the same idea, and I have no intention of sullying his memory with conflicting religious idealism.

I can say however, that today is Imbolc. The Festival of Lights and the beginning of spring, even under the snow. Somehow, it pleases me that he was able to move on in a time of beginnings, not just in a season of endings.

I won't speculate on exactly what that means. But I will just let it be what it is.