Isn’t it ironic how when we begin a cold, on our way down we hit a certain stage of illness where we operate at 80% efficiency and we moan about how I feel just awful, awful. Then when we hit the same efficiency level on the way to getting well again, we rejoice and say, Isn’t it wonderful! I feel so good!
It’s all relative.
I went out to pick up a Coke at the corner store, and snowflakes kissed my cheek.
Even winter, on her way out, says hello, nice to see you about again.
After waking up with a low-grade fever yesterday morning and exhibiting even lower energy than I’d had all week, HRH forbade me to go out for my Sunday afternoon class and ordered me back to bed. I slept until we had to leave for our scheduled dinner with my in-laws, where I sat zoning out in the rocking chair with a quilt over my legs. Matching socks after a load of laundry was pretty much all I could manage to do. Bless them, they fed me and lit candles in the living room and understood.
When we got home I caught the sixth end of the Brier final, assumed all was lost, and took a bath. I emerged just in time to see the tenth end, where Dacey stuck it to Ferby after something apparently miraculous happened in the three ends I’d missed. That final end was sweet and more than made up for last year’s disappointment. I cried.
So today I actually feel human once more, thank goodness. After a week of not being able to do much more than sit staring at a box of Kleenex (a heartfelt apology to all my students, but I honestly don’t remember teaching the two classes I did last week), I’ve touched base with my publisher, and I foresee a huge push forward on the Brighid book today.
And… I’m hungry. Glory be, I’m actually hungry. I’m so sick of tea and juice and water and toast that I might do something reckless today like have a piece of chocolate. Or a soda. I think my taste buds are back in the game.
The cold proceeds apace, oh joy; I’m at the hacking cough stage now. I made myself take a walk in the spring sun yesterday and stopped in at the Co-op Vert to pick up organic ginger tea and a hazelnut bread, which is so incredibly delicious that it doesn’t need butter. It has whole hazelnuts in it, and it’s made with fine whole-wheat flour and molasses. Mmm.
Rehearsal last night was absolutely disastrous. It was the diametrical opposite of the previous practice: stumbling, wincing, and amateur. On top of it all, that guy who never shuts up kept talking behind me. I thought I would strangle him. The only thing that got me through the night was knowing that when I got home, I would have chocolate ice cream and watch Angel. Except when I got home, there were two episodes of Smallville back to back, and no Angel in sight.
I went to bed and sulked.
Tonight I teach the second half of my spellcasting class. It’s certainly different this time around: I’m teaching two good Catholic girls who are interested in learning how to use magic within a Christian context. It’s quite a relief to speak in the terms of one religion while doing this class instead of saying “however you perceive the Divine” all the time. It’s also so nice to hear people say that they believe this power comes from God, and they seek to use it in a positive context. I always enjoy this class, and to be able to teach it without fielding odd questions is a lovely bonus.
I hate being sick.
Woke up this morning with a chest cold, most likely courtesy of my original coven-sister, with whom I teach and hang out as well. Sigh. There’s just no limit to her generosity.
Met with our new group yesterday, and initiated a round of feedback on the healing ritual that had been done last meeting. “We made our high priestess cry!” was the first triumphant comment. And yes, they did. They were good tears that welled up and flowed right at the beginning of the rit, as they pulled off a good solid circle and excellent quarter invocations. It was just so strange to hear it done by other voices. It was like a gift. And speaking of gifts, HRH was presented with a pack of variously-coloured stars to affix to lessons and assignments, as one of his common sayings as he teaches is, “Very good – you get another gold star!” It was a riot.
Happy 25th to Elim a month late; we hope you enjoyed your “quarter”-century ritual last night!
More witchy stuff:
Witches’ Weekly question February 29, 2004: Incense
What incense flavor do you use the most?
You are making me to choose? La!
Honestly, it’s probably a tie between my home-made kyphi resin mix, amber cones, and the Shoyeido Diamond sticks.
What incense type do you use the most? (cone, resin, stick, etc)
Stick, for convenience. I only use cones in the bedroom because the censer is tidier (and less likely to be scattered by cats). I use powder and resin on my altar, and sticks everywhere else. If the questions was which form I prefer, it’s resin, hands down. It’s a much purer scent, and the energy is spectacular. The only downside is the charcoal, even though I snap my tablets in half.
What do you use incense for the most?
To release a certain energy into my space. It also relaxes me, which is a nice bonus. There’s often incense going on my altar while I work and research at home, which serves the double duty of honouring deity and energising the space.
Yet another ritual tonight, a very special one. (Okay, they’re all special, but this one is special today, all right?)
I’m off to rub eucalytus oil on my chest and drink yet more juice. I foresee an afternoon of bed rest, wrapped in a blanket.
I woke up at five AM and finally decided to get out of bed at six. This happens every once in a while, and I usually end up getting some serious reading and note-taking done. Lately it’s been to my benefit, because I’ve been blazing through a pile of academic Celtic Iron Age archeological and historical texts.
It took me a week or so, but I managed to find my thesis groove again. Yes: almost four years to the day after I submitted my thesis, I realised I had another academic book to write. I have a nameless customer from the bookstore to thank for this one. She came in and asked for a book on the Celtic goddess Brigid, and I had to tell her that there wasn’t one.
Then I went home and was hit with a clue-by-four. I’ve been a priestess of Brid for seven years. I’ve been a teacher for almost five of those years. I’ve been a writer for most of my life. Why haven’t I understood that this book was missing and needed to be written?
So for the past month I’ve been jotting down rough subject outlines, researching heavily, running out of sticky tabs, draining highlighter pens, making pages of notes, and trying to track down little-known and out-of-print books. I’d forgotten how much I love doing this.
I’m fairly certain that my increase in energy is also due to the leap in temperature, however temporary it may be. There’s more light, as well, which always helps. I cannot deny, however, that at heart I’m an academic, and the idea of curling up with a pile of books, pens, paper, and a cup of tea thrills me beyond the level to which it ought to thrill me.
I’m just a witchy academic geek. So sue me.
Explain to me how it is possible that my stapler is mysteriously broken and all of my paper clips have vanished. The entire bag is gone. Poof.
Someone somewhere doesn’t want me to work today.