Bees, Beeswax, and Brighid

Image by quisnovus via Flickr

A while ago I was at the farmer’s market in Powell River and I decided to buy something from the bee man. There were many awesome things, but eventually I decided on a block of beeswax. I had no idea what I’d use it for, though I was vaguely thinking of it as a sewing aid — much more effective to swipe your thread across beeswax to defray and stiffen it prior to threading your needle.

Instead, however, I put it on my altar. And it continues to stay on my altar to this day, though I do also use it for sewing occasionally. It smells strongly — and if you’ve ever smelled beeswax you know the amazing, delicious scent of which I speak. And as I puzzled out why I’d put it on my altar, a small epiphany came to me: Brighid is associated with bees.

I had no idea if my UPG was academically sound, or if we would ever know truly if Brighid were historically associated with bees. I did some research, and found one reference to the nuns of Kildare — who were sworn to St. Brighid — keeping bees. Good enough for me. (I currently can’t find the source back, but if I do I’ll add in a link to this post.)

Regardless the lack of scholarly sources, Brighid hasn’t vetoed the bee association; in fact, She seems to agree with my estimation. As I’m not recon, academic research does not take precedence over divine inspiration (though the two are closer to equal than unbalanced), and Her approval is also good enough for me.

Bees are immensely important to earth’s ecosystem, pollinating as much as they do. The sweet tooth in me also says they’re important because OMG HONEY. They’re also featured in novels about witches (Lords and Ladies by Terry Pratchett and The Fifth Sacred Thing by Starhawk, and probably more that I haven’t read yet) and I’m sure that’s not a coincidence. Witches’ covens are often said to ‘hive’ off.

Bees are also negatively associated with feminists by misogynistic MRAs and the like, accusing us of ‘hivemind’ — ie, that we can’t think for ourselves (and they’re just so frackin’ enlightened, clinging to the ideals of patriarchy and never forging any new paths).

Thing is, I don’t see anything wrong with hivemind: what a true sense of community. And I believe that we humans do have a hivemind, deep within our consciousnesses, connecting us all.

This doesn’t mean hearts and rainbows and lollipops because tra la, we’re all the same and covered in glitter. No. It means we’re all connected. And that means that we’re equally capable of all the beauty the human race has to offer as well as all the misery.

The lesson of bees to to learn to work together to create beautiful sweetness. Or the hive will die.

And there, I think, is the association with Brighid. She rules the hearth fire, where the family gathers for warmth and food. She rules the smith, where broken metal is forged back together, made stronger. She rules the fires of healing, mending those who have been hurt — much as beeswax ointments heal minor wounds, and raw local honey helps keep allergies at bay. She gives cattle to those in need, making Her a goddess of social justice as well. And She rules the fire in the head, the great font of creativity we humans have. The place from which our art and beauty — our own form of honey — comes.

ETA: Other participants in the Pagan Blog Project have also written about bees this week. Check out the links below to read their posts.

The Whimsical Cottage: On Bees

La Voix d’Aliénor: Bees and me

Please note that this entry probably makes little to no sense as I’m still wandering in concussion-fog.

Turning the Heel: A Rite of Passage

My Oma, Egbertine, was the eldest of seven children. She was born during The Great War, in 1917. By 1924, her mother Jantje (I’m named after her) relied heavily on Tine to take care of her siblings. She was seven years old when she had to assume the role of secondary mother. They lived in the bottom floor of their house, which was very small, with no running water and an outhouse. They had a small backyard and tiny garden. Eventually they moved upstairs, where they had much more room — still, it was nine people in the equivalent of a two-bedroom. Maybe 900 square feet, tops.

My mom’s Pake (grandfather in Friesan), Rintje, had his own business. He made barrels. Day in and out he wore wooden shoes of the type we Dutchies are famous for, with woolen socks made by Tine, my Oma.

Tine was a tailor. She made all the clothing for the family, and she did all the cooking from scratch – over and over again. There was no processed food, maybe some in tins, and no fridge or freezer either. Market every day. They may have had a root cellar, but I’m not sure.

Oma with her two daughters, Christina (my mom) and Yvonne (Ariel).

Tine worked harder than her younger siblings, who were favoured and got more education than she did, which led to much bitterness on Oma’s part. Especially as she was, no doubt, the most brilliant member of the family, and yet her younger sister Jeannette was considered the family genius. (Much later on in her life she got a chance to compare their childhood report cards, and found out that her grades were better than Jeannette’s every time. This story she then proceeded to tell my mom, Opa, and Tante Ariel about four hundred times.)

Oma made a lot of socks. She sewed and knit extensively, and she knit woolen socks for everyone in the family. Nine people. 18 feet. Working hard 365 days a year. That’s a lot of fucking socks.

When I was a kid, Oma taught me the basics of knitting. However, it never stuck (crochet did) and I ended up forgetting it for a good number of years. A few years ago I took it up again, but never asked her for any lessons.

I regret that now.

A not so good picture of my first heel, on a sock that will never be worn by anyone. (I made it just to see if I could do the heel.)

I’ve been teaching myself how to do socks. Oma was the sock mistress and could have whipped my sock knitting into marvelous shape, but hindsight is always 20/20. Mom’s been helping me — namely, she’s been helping me decipher the instructions in the pattern, which is another godsdamned language to me.

The night before last I turned my first heel.

It’s a rite of passage. I’ve stepped through the doors of…I don’t know. Something. I feel like I’ve gone from beginning knitter to intermediate knitter. I’m following in Oma’s footsteps, definitely. I know she was happy with my enjoyment and skill in fiber arts. Knitting, then, has become ancestor veneration as well as something I do for Brighid.

Last night I worked on another pair — one out of chunky yarn, that I can actually wear. I worked most of the night on them for my shift. And soon, I will have a pair of my own hand-knit socks, and they will be bloody amazing.

Of Spider Bites and Snake Trails

So, things: yes, Reclaiming and Feri are going to give me help in my path of Primal Witchcraft, but that’s not where it begins for me. It begins with spider bites and snake trails, or needed animal medicine. For a while now I’ve felt Spider trying to get my attention; a week or so ago I had a very, very vivid dream about a huge gash in my leg that was a spider bite. The flesh was angry and streaming pus. The dream was so real I spent the rest of the day checking my leg for the injury.

I’ve talked about this in the PW group I’m part of, and come to some conclusions: my fear* of spiders has not been a forever thing; it started sometime in childhood. So there’s an event there that I need to deal with. I’m not sure what it is, but I know that Spider is about deep healing, the web of life, and patience. So I have to delve deep into my past and find that event, that bite — then I can work on expelling the venom from my soul.

*By fear I mean, like, deathly phobia. They give me the wiggins so fucking much. I can take most of ‘em outside if need be without panicking right away, but there’s usually lots of tears afterwards.

Snakes came up in this conversation, including the fact that my father was bit by a rattlesnake when he was ten years old. I believe I have snake venom in my veins — mystically, if not scientifically. (Though with epigenetics I do wonder if there are genetic markers that get changed — and subsequently passed on to your offspring — when your body encounters venom from the animal or plant kingdoms.) I have never, ever feared snakes — perhaps because they have been part of me since birth. So snakes are important, too.

No, this is not ooky-spooky goth stuff, though I am a goth. It’s just what it is.

(Downside to posting about this and using zemanta: tons of spider pictures on the bottom right-hand corner of my browser window. Not sleeping tonight.)

This is all mystic crap and not stuff I’ll be blogging about very often over here. It’s far too rambly, and it doesn’t fit the feel of Innocence and Immanence. I’ve a tumblr blog that I’ve renamed Spider Bites for this stuff. We’ll see where it takes me. I still plan on talking about other things here — probably ADF, Reclaiming, Feri, godslavery, those blogging challenges I have half-done, the Lady of the Stars, and various other things.

Sometimes it’s hard to keep so many threads straight in my spiritual tapestry and that frustrates me, but then I remember that blending colors can be really beautiful. That’s enough.

In which I’ll probably offend someone.

Today my own copy of The Twelve Wild Swans arrived in the mail; previously I was working out of a public library copy and it’s really the sort of book I need to be able to make notes in, highlight, and keep for all time. I’m part of a group wherein we’ve been working through the chapters as a way of exploring how stories can be a road to spiritual change and initiation. Some people have had issues with the Goddess-focused theme of the book which is, I suppose, fair enough — but it also makes me wonder how many people actually understand what Reclaiming is all about. The subtitle of the book — Rituals, Exercises, and Magical Training in the Reclaiming Tradition — does state explicitly that it’s a Reclaiming-focused book; while reviews may paint it as Wiccan or generically Pagan, the book itself doesn’t say that at all and it’s really not. Reclaiming is a Goddess tradition.

And perhaps I’m just tetchy because I’m tired of people constantly ripping Starhawk apart because they disagree with her — yes, she does cling to the bad history, which I also have problems with, but other than that I find her work inspirational and useful to me and I see no need to fling the baby out with the bathwater, so to speak. Seems if you don’t like Goddess traditions you could simply ignore them.

Anyway, don’t want to make a big thing out of that. I just wanted to get it off my chest.

Cover of Evolutionary Witchcraft

Then, on a whim (by which I mean divine inspiration) I ordered something I’ve wanted for a long, long time: T. Thorn Coyle’s DVD of the devotional dances she teaches in Evolutionary Witchcraft. I’ve had troubles with the dances every time I’ve tried them; following pictures in a book is not an easy way to learn to dance. I need to watch someone else do it. And I know the dances will be powerful for me; moving meditation has always effected me deeply.

I suddenly realized that Feri and Reclaiming — really studying them, getting deep in the marrow with them — is the route to whatever my Primal Witchcraft will be in the future.

Only once I’ve learned the basics of Feri and Reclaiming will I be able to delve deeper, into the dirt, the bones of Primal Witchcraft.

Winter seems a good time to start. This is when it is cold and deep; when I can go within myself easily.

It’s also when I have some time off school to work through things. When I’m not being all family-happy-person. (It’s weird for me but I have a family beyond my mom now and we spend holidays together. I’m still constantly afraid I’m going to mess it up by being me. So far, I’m still loved by my in-laws. Yay.)

Forthcoming, when I get a chance to breathe and think:

-A post about how Morrigan’s domain of sovereignty works with my being a godslave for Her.
-Finishing that 44 Days of Witchery thing, because I’m a completionist.
-Pointless rambling with no coherency. As always.

Samonis 2011: Back to Basics

Guy Fawkes bonfire. (Image via Wikipedia)

Samonis, the November Feast

It’s the end of the year tonight, and tomorrow Winter begins and the Hag rules. Tonight the ancestors come and feast with the living. The veil between the worlds is thin, and you must be careful not to get lost in a place you can’t return from.

This is my favourite holiday, usually. I greet it with joy and abandon most years.

However, this year I feel a strange melancholy, a solemnity settle over me. It’s time to get back to basics, the earth whispers to me, and I know it’s right.

So I am restarting my witchcraft education. From the beginning. Simplicity. I am reading The Twelve Wild Swans and doing the Elements Path. I am taking my time. Becoming a practicing witch is not a race against the clock; it’s the work of a lifetime. (Page 16.)

Today I attune myself with the earth, the air, the fire, the water, and the directions in which they reside. I get my hands messy in the guts of a pumpkin. I have a feast with some friends, enjoying the simple pleasures of companionship and fireworks (in celebration of Guy Fawkes Night; in this Commonwealth country we do it a week early). The night ends with a write-in for NaNoWriMo, at midnight, in a famous Canadian coffee shop that’s open 24/7 and has really bad coffee but pretty good hot chocolate.

I will also finish the homework that’s due tomorrow afternoon, and do the reading required for class so I can have the option of skipping lecture and going straight to seminar. (Lecture is at 9am, and I will be up fairly late tonight.)

My partner was supposed to be over visiting this weekend, but it may be better that he’s not. I miss him, of course, and am sad I don’t get to spend my favourite holiday with him — but I’m feeling the need for spiritual growth, spiritual solitude right now, and while we share many things in our life, spirituality is not one of them. (Which, overall, is a good thing.)

Most importantly, today I am going to allow myself to get things done at my own pace. I’m not going to allow myself to feel guilty if I’m not working on a particular project. I have things to do, but they can wait. It’s only the end of the year once every 365 days, after all, and this holiday requires my attention and meditation. Work can wait until tomorrow.

Sacred Kink 101: On being a Godslave

Image via Wikipedia

So, there’s this term — Godslave — for what I am. And a lot of people have problems with that term, and even the concept behind that term, to the point where they use rather hurtful language to describe their problems with that term.

For the record, that hurtful language does actually hurt real people. Like me, and many other Godslaves (though I don’t intend to speak for any one else but myself in this post).

A big part of the squick surrounding the concept of Godslave is because of vast ignorance — which is understandable, seeing as there’s very little info out there on this topic. Many of us involved in Sacred Kink would like to be able to talk about this, but there are problems with that — for one, it’s not always easy to talk about this stuff, and for another, we get a lot of bad, trigger-y reactions from people who are not involved in Sacred Kink and who have never heard the term “Your kink is not my kink and that’s OK”.

It’s fine to be squicked by things, but it’s also nice if you actually know what you’re being squicked by, based on the words of the people who practice it and not assumptions based on ignorance.

This post (and others that will come in the future) is an attempt to show the internet what godslavery is not, what godslavery can be, and what my own personal godslavery is, in the hopes of dispelling some of the ignorance around the topic and opening some minds. So without further ado:

What Godslavery is not:

• a breaking of will, spirit, or mind.
• an inability to do anything without the permission of one’s Deity.
• having every waking second taken up with thoughts of one’s Deity, or ways to please one’s Deity.
• complete and utter submission to the point of having no thoughts of one’s own, no free will, or no independence (see first point).
• actions done out of fear of punishment or hope for reward.
• born out of being forced, coerced, or threatened.
• have anything to do with the American slave trade, which was aberrant in its behaviour and is not the only yardstick in existence for the word slave. (Slavery has a long and complicated history; associating it only with one chapter in the history of humanity is extremely narrow-minded.)

What Godslavery can be:

• Godslavery can be sexual.
• It can also be non-sexual.
• It can be a marriage (God-spouse — though it is important to note that not all god-spouse relationships are godslave relationships, or even have any d/s elements present in them).
• It can be for life.
• It can be a temporary contract (though I’ve never heard of this, I’m not ruling it out, because it’s totally within the realm of possibility).
• It can be consensual. (This is actually a complicated bit of godslavery, which I’ll get into in a moment. In my experience, consent is not a strong enough word to describe the choice of becoming a godslave.)
• It can be extremely difficult, painful, dangerous, and crazy-making.
• It can be extremely joyous, wonderful, ecstatic, and bliss-inducing.
• It can influence one’s romantic or sex life.
• It can have absolutely no effect on one’s romantic or sex life.
• It can grow organically — and probably does most of the time.
• It can be dynamic.
• It can have compromises, or sacrifices — things you give up — just like every other relationship.
• It can be active (certain tasks one must fulfill on a regular basis).
• It can be passive (an aspect of the relationship that just is, without conditions to be met).
• It can switch between active and passive.
• It can include ordeal work.
• It can include knock-down, drag-em-out fights with one’s Deity.
• It can be mystic.
• It can include an exclusive relationship with one deity.
• It can be polytheistic.

There are a lot of other things that Godslavery can be, but I think this list should give you a pretty good idea of the diversity behind this word and the people who use it.

What my Godslavery is to me:

Not as epic as many people make godslavery sound (usually when they don’t know much about it). I live my life the way I want to live it. It helps that the way I want to live my life is generally aligned to the way my Ladies want me to live it. So, even if I weren’t technically a godslave, my whole life would be dedicated to my Ladies — being a godslave just means I’m held to a higher standard of behaviour than if I weren’t.

My relationship with Morrigan is dynamic. When I first posted about this stuff, I talked about wearing a collar at all times for Morrigan. Well, that’s changed: the collar is now used to suspend a candle holder from the ceiling. She’s okay with this. An understanding has been reached that I don’t need to wear a collar at all times because I’m already Hers, and the mark is superfluous. (Mind you, I do plan on getting a permanent mark for Her at some point — whether it’s a scar or a tattoo, I’m not sure, and I don’t know where or when, but it will most likely happen.)

My relationship with Brighid I don’t actually call godslavery, but it is related to it and to my relationship with Morrigan. The best way I’ve found of putting it is this: I am Morrigan’s weapon, Her tool, and Brighid is the One who forges me and makes me strong.

Sometimes, in the line of duty, I get broken — this is not the “slave breaking” that some people talk about with great relish in the BDSM community, nor a breaking of my spirit. Morrigan isn’t interested in breaking my spirit, because a tool with a broken spirit is useless. No, when I say I get broken, I mean I’m not functional for a while. The work that Morrigan has me do is hard work — it pushes all my buttons, trips all my triggers. When I’m damaged like that, Brighid takes me and fixes me, heals me, so I can get back into the fight.

There is a reason She is Smith along with Healer. (Bard is connected to Healing in a different, but just as important, way.)

Most importantly, my godslavery is a choice. It’s a choice I make every day. Consent is, as I said, not a strong enough word here — yes, I gave my consent, I wanted to belong to Morrigan. That’s not in question. Where it gets complicated is the fact that I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that not consenting would break my heart.

People may call that coercion, but it’s really not — it didn’t involve Morrigan telling me that if I didn’t consent I’d regret it. More — it’s knowing that the choice you are making will be incredibly hard and will require many sacrifices on your part, but that it will also fill out your life in a way that nothing else will, and not making the choice may deprive you of incredible joy and love. There are actually a lot of choices that are like that, but people don’t bring up the issue of consent when talking about them.

There is an incredible freedom in giving myself completely to Morrigan. I know She’s always going to be there. It’s a two-way street. Most relationships are. By consenting to be Her slave, I am entering into a contract. This contract states that She must take care of me — and She does. She and Brighid work closely together, and I know that I wouldn’t have been able to accept the contract with Morrigan had not Brighid claimed me a few months prior. While I’m not a slave to Brighid, I am devoted to Her as Her priestess, and my relationship with Her is not separate from my relationship with Morrigan; they intertwine, different aspects playing into one another.

Another aspect of the freedom my relationship with Morrigan gives me is that it makes me courageous in my romantic relationships. I know She’s never going to leave, and I’ve already committed myself completely to Her — so taking the step of, say, engagement or marriage with my partner is not so daunting or terrifying.

That, I think, is a fairly good overview on what my godslavery is, and a good start for a 101 post. When I get into the 201 posts, I’ll talk a bit more in depth about my relationship with Morrigan and what it entails.

A final note: on the kneejerk reaction to the word “slave” caused by instant association with the American slave trade

I understand that a lot of North Americans will have an instant reaction to the term godslave because of the American slave trade. This is fine, and valid, and I don’t mean to discount your reaction if, indeed, that is the one you have.

However. It is a kneejerk reaction, and it can lead to some very ugly statements. So I would like to clarify some things regarding the American slave trade and the word slave itself.

• Slavery is a very, very, very old concept, and the word slave is not a simple one — it has many different connotations and denotations, different roots, and a large family of related words attached to it.
• Use of the word slave to describe relationships within a sacred BDSM context or a non-sacred BDSM context does not “belittle” the experiences of slaves in the American slave trade or other slave trades: if it did, then so would the use of the word slave to refer to a printer, the word ciao, the word robot, the word maiden, the word concierge, and a whole host of other words that have their roots in the various words for slave.

Obviously, I can’t hope to eradicate the squick people might feel when reading about godslavery. I wouldn’t want to, either — people are entitled to their squicks. However, I am hoping that my posts help to dispel some of the ignorance around the topic, so that people know what is squicking them. Please remember that I only speak to my own experience as a godslave, and that other godslaves will have different things to say. Most of us (but not all) will agree, however, that our wills and spirits are not broken, we are not mindless automatons, and that we still have free will (as nebulous a concept as that is).

If you have questions about this post and/or godslavery, I encourage you to respectfully ask them in the comments section of this post.

Goodies from Seattle!

Mom and I went to Seattle a week ago, and she bought me books because they are cheaper in the States. She also gave me a gift before we headed down! Here’s a picture of two of my witchy treasures:

The one on the left I found in Barnes and Noble and was about to put it down when I felt a very firm smack from Brighid, along with a “GET IT”, so I asked mom if we could and she said yes.

The one on the right is her gift to me from before heading down there. I love the We’Moon planners. I hate that they (Mother Tongue Ink) spell “woman” we’moon and “women” womyn, and that they’re fans of the feminist pagan revisionist history crap that makes my feminist pagan blood boil, but the planners are gorgeous and full of inspiring stories, poems, and art. Even though I don’t technically identify as a woman, I feel a stirring when I read a lot of the stuff in their planners.

Plus! My friend Autumn Skye got one of her paintings into the book. So that’s cool.

Book Review: Magical Household: Spells & Rituals for the Home by Scott Cunningham

I feel “Spells and Rituals” is a bit of a misnomer here. The book is a collection of folk magic for the home — some spells and rituals are listed, but not many (my definition of ritual here is the more ceremonial magic inspired type, not the small little things we do everyday — your mileage may vary).

I would have called it Spells and Recipes for a Happy Household. Cunningham packs this book full of things you can do to ensure peace and wellbeing in your house, as well as a chapter on portents for when things may NOT be so peaceful.

Is this book essential to every witch’s practice? No, not hardly. However, for the hearthwitch who just doesn’t know where to begin, this book would be a very handy starting point. Someone looking for a very specific spell and quickly would be best advised to look elsewhere — this is the sort of book one has to read cover to cover to really reap the rewards of it.

I know I’m keeping it on my shelf of useful books.

44 Days of Witchery, Day 43: A magical recipe.

Cover of A Kitchen Witch's Cookbook

This recipe is from one of my favourite books, A Kitchen Witch’s Cookbook, by Patricia Telesco. I’ve added notes on my own variations to the recipe.

Serendipity Cookies

Crust:
1/2 C. butter
1/4 C. white sugar
1 egg
1/2 tsp. vanilla (for love)
1 1/4 C. flour
1/2 tsp. salt

Topping:
2 eggs, beaten
1 1/4 C. packed brown sugar
1/2 C. shredded coconut
1 C. chopped pecans [I substitute walnuts here, because I dislike pecans. --Morag]
2 Tbsp. flour
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. nutmeg (for awareness)
1 tsp. vanilla

Powdered sugar. [Optional. -- Morag.]

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease a 9 X 13-inch pan. Beat the butter, white sugar, egg, and vanilla in a medium-sized mixing bowl. Mix in the flour and salt. Pat the dough into the pan. Bake for 15 minutes.

To prepare the topping, mix the eggs, brown sugar, coconut, pecans, flour, baking powder, nutmeg, and vanilla in a medium-sized bowl. Spread on the hot crust. Bake 25 minutes. Cool. Dust with powdered sugar. Yield: 32 bars.

Variation: For romance or prosperity, add 1 C. chocolate chips to the topping. [I always do this. Chocolate is life. --Morag.]

Magical attributes: Luck, love, joy, diversity, practicality.

Celebrations: May Day, Summer Solstice, Kamehameha Day, Aloha Week.

~~~~

When I lived in Hawaii I made this recipe all the time. It got to the point where I had it memorized. I’d make it for church events a lot.

Serendipity cookies are delicious. I recommend them. And the entire book, actually, because it’s full of other awesome recipes. I once cooked a Christmas dinner entirely with recipes from this book (except the turkey; mom taught me how to cook that).

44 Days of Witchery, Day 40: Your altar, if you have one!

This cacophony of light and color is the wall that forms my altars. One on the windowsill, one on the far right, one in the centre, one on the left, and one even further left, on the bookcase. In order: for the Lady of the Stars, for my ancestors, for Morrigan, Brighid, and Manannan in a Celtic context, for witchcraft, divination, etc, and for Aphrodite.

Not seen in this picture are the ancestors altar and the Aphrodite altar, because my camera couldn’t get them all in one shot.

I need to re-organize, but this is how they are at the moment.