Category Archives: Weather, Seasons, & Celebrations

In Which the Prodigal Returns, to Mixed Reception

We arrived home through six hours of storms and mind-numbing boredom at around seven last night. While I was gone, HRH stained the kitchen cabinets, moved some smaller pieces of furniture around, and raised the bed by about a foot to create box storage beneath it. No major crises occured in my absence, which is always a relief. Maggie punished my eleven-day absence by ignoring me until bedtime. Nixie wouldn’t leave me alone, and even talked to me with chirps and tiny meows. Cricket lay on the dining room table and sulked at the window, through which she wriggled to the Great Outdoors sometime over the week, so now having tasted freedom she is no longer satisfied with the small world known as Home, let alone the presence of her mother figure.

My day is scheduled already: I’ve caught up on e-mails, sent out a couple of queries, and now I’ll sit down with a pile of books and select new readings for the first level of students at CMS, as so much has gone out of print recently. Apparently reading selections from other teachers have been thin to non-existant, so I have a lot of work ahead of me. It was a lovely vacation, with lots of sleep and books and food, but now I’m back in the sweltering humidity and the dust kittens of home. Back to… whatever it is that I do when I’m not writing a book. Goodness. I just may have forgotten what that is.

From the Wilds of Southern Ontario

So here I am in lovely Oakville, enjoying moderate temperatures which force me inside at about five-thirty PM because it’s too chilly. I also have to put socks on inside because the tile floor is too cold.

I ain’t complaining. Love it.

Those who are familiar with my mum’s culinary abilities will sigh when I tell you that I’ve already had mussels, grilled salmon marinated in maple syrup and orange juice, baby spinach and mushroom salad with a wonderful cream dressing, almond pound cake, those fabulous Spice Cookies Which Emphatically Fail to Suck, and last night’s delicate bolognese sauce on pasta. Plus my dad’s homemade Sauvignon Blanc.

It’s good to be fed by the parental units. Oh, yes. And I’ve only been here a day and a half.

I’ve also already read two books, a pile of magazines, visited old family friends, and dropped two rings off to be sized. Today, all three of us are going to see Shrek 2, because taking your thirty-three year old child to an animated feature still counts.

Autumn, the Human Barometer

Over the past twenty-four hours I have been driven slowly mad by the changing air pressure as mirrored by my sinus cavities.

Dear gods, yes — the pressure outside changes as the mini-fronts come through, an ice-pick suddenly appears digging deep into my cranium from one of the many lovely little sinus chambers. I often don’t realise it until I find myself attempting to curl my fingers through my skin and into said sinus cavity to release the pressure. Yesterday, I moved inside and outside my in-laws’ house a dozen times seeking relief as the pressure subtly shifted by a kPa or two.

They grilled shrimp for my birthday. Wasn’t that a wonderful treat? And they gave me a lovely leatherbound blank book, with a nifty red owl bookmark that will travel with me to Toronto later this week.

My newfound need for naps illustrates how miserable sleeping at night in Montreal has become, now that it’s summer again. HRH put the air conditioner in, but I still seem to sleep better in the afternoons. I also attribute my odd need to sleep so much to a reflection of how mentally exhausted I am after producing a polished book in ten weeks.

I’ve read two books since I finished the manuscript: Marion Zimmer Bradley’s Ancestors of Avalon by Diana Paxson (which was only so-so; I should have waited for the trade paperback), and The Mistress of Spices by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni (which was absolutely marvellous magical realism). I’m halfway through Rebecca Wells’ Little Altars Everywhere at the moment, which is possibly even better than Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood (although equally disturbing in places). Today I’ll finish two book reviews and send them off to the magazine for which I write them.

Words for thought, from t!‘s interview with the Suffix9 zine:
“Regrets are for people who don’t understand their present beauty.”

A Long Time Ago, in a Galaxy Far, Far Away…

Kenobi must die.

Vader must rise.

It’s all about balance, baby. You may strike him down, but there will be others; the light will return. Nothing’s static; the galaxy is an ever-shifting mass of energy. If it ceases its eternal motion, then it’s game over, entropy, pssht! — gone.

t!‘s Summer Solstice ritual was The Best Solstice Ritual Ever. And I got to be the tech crew for it. I love being part of a good thing.

A blessed Solstice to everyone. Gather your St John’s Wort while ye may.

Coincidentally, what with Vader and all, it’s Father’s Day. How’s that for perfect? Father’s Day on the Solstice, the time of the Sun King being at the height of his powers. A happy one to all the dads out there. (And that includes dads of cats, reptiles, fish, and hamsters. You know who you are. I draw the line at dust kittens.)

Witches Weekly Questions

Witches Weekly June 18, 2004: Your Spirituality

1. Do you feel that you are active in your spirituality?

Yes. I’m a teacher of comparative religion, an author of articles and now a book on various aspects of the Neo-Pagan path, an editor of a New Age series of books, the consultant and specialist for a New Age imprint, and a priestess. I’d have to say that my spirituality is a major part of my life. I facilitate other people’s spiritual journeys, and I am constantly seeking ways to evolve my own.

2. What do you consider to be the most tedious task in your path?

Erm. If I say teaching, will all of my readers who are also my students give me a moment to explain myself?

I love teaching. I love the dynamic dialogue that is created between student and teacher, and the discoveries made on both sides. I do not, however, enjoy the feeling of us-vs-them that often arises, or the frustration that comes from a class not having prepared what I’ve asked them to prepare, or not having paid attention to something I have repeated over and over. It’s particularly frustrating because I teach adults, who theoretically are old enough and responsible enough to act appropriately, some of whom have children and who ought to be even more aware of the problem.

I also hate teaching when students make me feel guilty for not teaching them what they think they should know. Other teachers probably understand this as well. My classes are set out in a particular way for certain reasons. I have a couple of students who always thank me for my time and my energy before they leave. It was odd at first, but I’ve come to appreciate it so much. Even if the class wasn’t necessarily on a topic which personally interests them, they still let me know that they appreciate the time I put in to researching and teaching it. I don’t enjoy being blamed for a student not hearing what they wanted to hear in a class. They learned something, after all. And in a spiritual or religious environment, the material and information usually has to sit and mature and ripen before it has any effect. I understand the impatience of a spiritual student – I’m still one myself, after all – but sometimes my temper gets a bit short. No, I can’t hand you the mysteries of the universe on a silver platter, because (a) possessing them isn’t the point, it’s learning them yourself; (b) this may come as a shock to you, but I don’t know them all; and (c) my mysteries are not your mysteries.

3. What is your most enjoyable part of your spirituality?

Easy: research. (Quick — to the Batcave!)

I love, love, love to read and think and work things out. I love seeing how other people perceive aspects of their spirituality. I like making connections between different religions. The more I research, the better I understand the concept of an individual expressing spirituality, thanks to the ever-increasing body of lore I build up.

I must say that very close to my love of research is my love of talking to the Divine, and being free to envision that Divine however I choose. But then, I also consider research and making connections talking to the Divine, where the Divine allows information to be passed on to me so that I may consider it and further reinforce/modify/develop my view of the world and of God/dess, so perhaps this ought to have been listed first…

Forthcoming

I was explaining to HRH today that my life pretty much doesn’t exist after July 1. It’s not that I’m booked, it’s just that I’m so focused on July 1 being the deadline for the manuscript, plus my parents will be in town, and I’ll be doing the final concert of the season that night (which is the only reason I will not be downtown at the Jazz Festival listening to Susie Arioli) that it’s the Big Thing I’m Planning For. Only an e-mail from Debra the other day reminded me that I’m camping July 2-5 at Awakening Isis (which was fortunate). It was while I was relating this to him that I realised that I haven’t yet had a birthday this year.

“Yes,” said HRH. “Any idea what you want? People are starting to ask.”

Know what I want? I can’t even remember what day it is, let alone conceive of celebrating the joyous anniversary of my thirty-third year on the planet. And he wants gift suggestions?

So I’ve updated the wish list, for those who need to know. And I s’pose there ought to be a pub night. Don’t ask me when until after July 1, though, okay? Please?