Right, for real: thoughts to share; or, NOT another empty post (which has been removed)

Hello, good day, and how are you?
I'm doing well, I pray you are, too!

Hee hee!  I feel so strange today, it's almost as if I'm about to take leave.  Not happening for a while, though, so I'm just riding the happpy feeling for the hell of it.

So, generally I try and stay a very happy, positive person, but circumstance and people have helped for my nature into that of someone who always sees the ick in things.  I've been changing, but very often, I feel as if it's taking too long.

So, a bit of a rant.

I don't know if I've told anyone about the earlier years of accepting who I was in terms of sexuality.  If not, here it is.

I knew I was gay when I turned 11.  I can't tell you how exactly, or when, I just knew.  But, growing up with my father and in small towns I thought, ag, k@k man, there's no such thing, and it's wrong, and what will other people think.  Being 11, one feels all alone in such things.

The year 12 was the first time I told anyone, that person being my best friend at the time, Ryno.  Beautiful straight boy, and always has been, but now that he does Muy Thai, OMG!!  the hormone levels around that boy have skyrocketed.  Anyway, he was 13, I was 12, and I told him I don't like girls, only boys.  And he said, OK, so am I still sleeping over tonight?  Just like that.  He didn't ask, and still hasn't, how did I know, maybe I just had never liked a girl, blah blah blah.  He just asked if he's still staying by me that night.  I was too young to be truly happy about that - I was just happy he still wanted to be my friend.

Next was my friend Sonia, Lady Hero.  I told her completely by accident, literally.  We were sitting on the school grounds one Friday afternoon and she mentioned how she hates being straight.  I let slip I hated being gay.  Up until that point I'd been telling her I'm bisexual, but letting the cat out of the bag was rather liberating.

The long and short of this is that I told a number of people that I felt I could trust, and somewhere along the lines more and more people found out (small town, gossip, yadda yadda).  The only real problem I had was when I wrote in for pen-pals under a different name, abut again the small town thing kicked in when people saw the ad and recognised my postal address.  My dad did a mini-flip-out and took my phone away from me twice, deleting the numers of some of the people I considered friends.  Some I've managed to reconnect with, others are lost to time permanently, but either way, the experience was worth it.

My dad and I never once spoke to each other about me; instead we used to look for other excuses to get into cat-fights, and some of them got quite nasty.  It was only after my mother left that he told me he loves me and accepts me for who I am.

Reliously speaking, I've known for years that being Christian was something that didn't fit well with me.  I was raised in the faith, and some habits (like ritualised prayer and a physical temple building) still stick with me,  But following a god who speaks of war and genocide, and a religion where you can only get into Heaven if you follow the teachings of a dead man - THAT got to me a little bit.  So, I left Christianity behind.  I didn't abandon the faith, as the faith didn't abandon me.  It was simply a mutual understanding that I didn't fit in with anything I'd been taught or discovered for myself about it.  So I slowly turned to the Feminine Divine, to speaking to Nature and Animals and the elements and opened my arms to Life and left Christianity to the Christians.  It was only once I'd been in Cape Town for a while that I learned I was a Pagan - all thanks to a faerie novel.

Now, I can understand if you're scratching your head about all this.  Don't worry, I would be, too.  I mean, that's in the past, what does it have to do with now, or why I'm typing this?

Simple:  Dan Pearce.

He's a blogger from Utah, North America, with a five-year-old son.  Dan's blog started (as I understand it) as a way for him to help deal with divorce.  Then it became about the life of a single dad and started filling with all sorts of tit-bits.  Recently Dan's blogs have been dealing with gay coming outs and suicides.  I read a link someone posted to his blog roughly two months ago and found the writing rather touching.

Then, last month, Dan wrote his own coming out story.  He finally accepted that he's bisexual.  I say finally because he struggled with half of his soul for 21 years, the part that falls in love with men as easily as it does with women.  I've slowly been reading all his coming out blogs and they are truly inspiring.  For instance, in one he tells how he came out to his son, and how Noah simply accepted him.  His brother, whom he told over a Skype call, told him, If you need me, I'm there.  And then his friends are still making the really nasty jokes.

Now, living in Utah, he says that there is still so much homophobia and hate, being all heavy Christian and such, that he simply couldn't fathom coming out.  I know for a fact that there are so many people who live in similar circumstances who are petrified of it.  What will their families think, or their friends, or their society?

I get so upset when I hear some of the drivel the Pope spews.  I miss John Paul, I really do.  He taught love and compassion - this Ratzinger fart is only spewing his Nazi hatred and intolerence.  Way to choose a leader, assholes!

I want to burst into tears every time I hear about some teenager who's taken his or her life because he or she was gay or bisexual.  It breaks my heart anew each time because we're losing the generation that can change the world for the better - if only the generation they're born FROM would open their hearts.  This Life has blessed me with friends and family who understand me in different ways - that alone makes this Life worth living!

Guys, those of us who are out can help those who aren't.  And our fag-hag friends and family?  You guys can lend a hand, too, by giving support and offering an open ear and open arms.

Yes, it's a bit off-topic, but I'm tired of seeing the hatred and fear.  One begets the other, did you know?

Often we're the butt (pardon the pun) of some really nasty jokes, and I know Lord Zed has written a piece or two about it.  We also get taken for chops and yes, there is still that stereotype of femininity.  You know what?  I'm feminine, but I can still do some things the modern MAN has trouble with.  It's frightening how many straight men don't know how to change a tyre, or do simple home maintenance.  And spiders - gods above, don't get me started!  I'm a moffie, and I fecking LOVE spiders!

Leather and bodyhair and tattoos - I love them!  On other guys.  I'm not about to go out and get inked just because I like leather.  And so many Bears are such softies!  You look at them funny and they want to cry.  As far as I'm concerned, that's breaking a stereotype.

And how's that one about going to Hell, huh?  Go stick it!  So many gay people are still Christian!  Not only because they were raised Christian, but because they choose to be.  There's a reason the Rainbow Church exists, you know?

Anyway, deep breath.

I've added Dan's link into his name.  Just in case, it's www.danoah.com.  If for no other reason than curiosity, please have a look at what he has to say about life.

Beer: 5; Dieter: 0 (x_x)

The last few months have been one busy thing after another.  In fact, there have been so many that I've lost track of everything beyond the weekend just past.

I've been having quite a lot of beer talong with these busy weekends and I have to say that I will be avoiding it as much as possible for the next while.  Last night was the final decider for me:  my little brother gets home and he says he feels we chould go out for a drink or two together.  I'm giving up on my social awkwardness as much as I can, so I said it sounds good.  I just washed and changed my pants - jammies and Table View seafront don't mix all that well.

We get to Marine Circle, go around the corner and decide to try out Pakalolo - it's a really nice little place that stretches along the front of the building it's in.  Quite a cookie-cutter-people place, but REALLY nice.  So Cammy gets us beer and a shot (mine was, naturally, something sweet and caramelly) and we migrate to a table in the larger part of the bar.  We plonk our derrieres down and start discussing, over the loud music (which no self-respecting bar is without), the tourist group behind me, girls (for him) and boys (for me).

I do not remember much.

I had my bottle of Castle, then he sent me to get us each a draught.  Carling Black Label, which compared to the Castle was rather flat.  I sit down again and realise by this time that I'm having trouble staying serious - total plus for me!  I have my draught, finish Cammy's (since he drove) and we think, t
let's have one more drink - elsewhere.  We thus toddle off to Monty's, another beachsront bar, not too much down the road from Pakalolo.

All I really remember from Monty's, besides being a REALLY nice spot, is that I reconnected with an acquaintance from Canal Walk (It took both of us a while to recognise each other - we both look different from the last time we saw each other), the barman only works the bar part-time (the rest of the time he's a rep for some or other alcies company) and the tour guide, Zenni.

This is where the beer starting gaining its points.  We were short the last R 6 for the beers, which the barman graceously sponsored us.  Then it hit me like a ton of bricks right between the eyes.  When we got home, I tried to k@k Zan out for still being up at 11.30 (but she was studying and didn't write today).  I got to bed and suddenly it's 12.36 and the beer made run to the Porcelain Throne a few times.

Thus:  NO MORE BEER FOR A LONG WHILE!!

Death

I have a number of years' experience as a tarotist.  For those who don't know, I got interested the year I turned 14 thanks to Piers Anthony's novel "Tarot", which is, as my first mentor would know, a sci-fi novel, and plays off in a future in which most of humanity has left Earth for other worlds rich in the resources we need so badly.

Anyway, I got my first deck, David Palladin's Aquarian Tarot (with a blue wavey-scallopy pattern on the back, printed 1970 by U.S. Games, Inc) on the exact same day my uncle married his long-time girlfriend, Ruby.  The date:  14 October 2000.  I spent a large part of that day learning to shuffle my cards and coming to grips with the fact that I had no idea how to do so.  I did my first reading a few minutes later (with the help of the LWB) and another that same night during the reception/supper thing.

The reason I brought this up is that, in my twelve years as a tarotist, I have very seldom read about death, or anything related to it.

I've heard of other readers, some of whom are mediums or such, who regularly read about it, and those who have passed on, or prepare those with dying family for when the family member finally passes.

Yesterday was the first time I did this.  Please note:  I don't remember much of the reading, but what I do remember I'll add.

The lady I read for I'd seen a few times.  She walked past, looked around and said, "I think I'll sit by you today."  Whenever she comes to the market, she told me, she had a reading of some kind done.  I smiled, told her how the payment would work and she smiled and agreed.  She sat down and shuffled the deck (the self-same Aquarian Tarot, which had been popular the whole of yesterday morning) and drew nine cards - this suited me, as I could actually do a nice 9-card spread for her.  What I saw made little sense at first.  The central card was the Five of Pentacles (Loneliness, or alone-ness), with two Majors before it, two after it, and four other Minors mixed into it.  The first thing that popped to mind was a spiritual journey.  Then there was mention of some kind of exile and recuperation and retreat, and finally something about balance.  I told her what I saw and she confirmed some of it, wondered at others and finally told me a bit about herself.

She has terminal cancer and is tired.

When she told me, she got this funny look on her face and the tears started rolling.  She didn't do the whole scream and weep thing, but she did explain that sh'ed made peace with the fact of her coming death and she'd accepted it.  Of course, by this time I'd gone to sit next to her and comfort her, and when we both finally managed to calm down a bit I could read the cards properly for her.  The interpretations and the messages came through hard and fast at this point and she looked at me and said, "That's so true."  She'd been holding on for her children's sake all this time, and they kept asking her for two more years, but while she is physically fit and healthy (all things considered), she is spiritually ready and her soul is tired of hanging on.  I showed her two cards and she turned to me with new tears in her eyes.  I thought it was for the reading, but she said to me, "Thank you.  Now I finally have the permission I wanted."

She'd been so caught up in holding on for her kids she'd not allowed herself to carry through with her decision.

After the reading we sat talking for a little while longer and she told me next year was the year she had in mind for her leaving.  She mentioned how she wants it to be quick and she's sure it will be, but just in case she's putting it out there.  I immediately had a rare vision and saw her passing in her sleep.  I didn't tell her but said that I'm more than sure it will be.  She thanked me, I thanked her, and then ran to the restroom to finish my bawling and clean my face.

The Aquarian Tarot went unread for the rest of the day.

Like calls to like and opposites attract.

Yes, I do realise that the title sounds a bit off, but how many times in our lives have we not heard one or both of these sayings when it comes to describing people and their relationships with others?

I bring this up because of some thinking I did over this past weekend (the Beltaine weekend) and two ladies chatting on the bus next to me on the way in this morning.

Please remember:  this isn't an exact re-typing and might have been heard the wrong way (noisy bus and all that).

One of the ladies, today the worse-mooded of the two, was telling her acquaintance of a braai they went to last night at this lady's "friend" and how it didn't end up being all that.  From what I gather, one of her kids has a SEVERE case of tonsilitus - it's so bad he has blisters in his throat - and after they'd eaten him and the guy the lady's seeing decided to roast some marshmallows (who else has had roasted marshmallows for breakfast before?)

Anyway, this child took two bites of his marshmallow and suddenly started screaming blue murder.  It turns out this marshmallow was the straw that broke the camel's back (or the mallow that popped the kiddie's blisters) and he had ick apparently pouring out of his mouth.  Gross much?  The lady's "friend" apparently just stood there shouting at him or some such.  So, they packed up and went home early.

In the next breath, she tells her acquaintance about this little girl she knows that's rather a cheeky child and constantly asks "why, why, why?".  Maybe I've got the kat aan die stert beet but it sounds to me as if she has just as much trouble with other people's kids as what her "friend" has.

Thus the "Like calls to like" part of the title.

In "Opposites attract", I'm thinking about some of the guys I've been out with before, specifically one of my exes.  Also a J, he is the exact opposite of me:  very nicely dressed all the time (even only in swimming shorts and sandals), his hair styled just-so and rather metropolitan, quite deep-pocketed and quite showy.  Look at me:  I dress in jeans and cotton T-shirts, tackies when I'm not in the shop (or slip-ons), with long hair either tied in a ponytail or a knot, and I'm not particularly fond of being half-naked in front of others - when I am, I'm in boardshorts; also, I like to fade into the background.  Yes, I have my moments when I show myself to the world (normally at our monthly tarot meetings), but directly after I'm done I try and turn invisible, and my pockets are rather shallow.

Yet, my relationship with J1 worked, even if only for a short while.  We had fun, and we did things together like any normal couple would do.  Our personalities were just VASTLY different.

So, ja, I don't know why we even still have those two sayings.  They don't mean much in our modern lifestyles because we no longer have such a rigid social class system (despite how we LOVE to rag on about cliqués).  We are such a diverse country with such an open social culture that we never had the "chance" to implement a caste system.  So I say again, down with these two sayings.

Now, about Beltaine...


It was the first Beltaine I'd ever celebrated, either as part of a group or a solitary Pagan, and it was stunning.  There weren't many of us (a large number of people either cancelled or didn't rock up at all) and out of a number of stalls, there were eventually only five.  We had no day visitors either.  But, once the sun had set, we really went into things.  We didn't behave badly, and there was no animosity between anyone present.  We danced the Maypole to great mirth and even got T tied to the "stake" to be "burned as a witch" - not my words, but rather effective, and a visual pun like no other on the night.  Z also came to see what we'd done to T, but he ran away when I tried to tie him to his partner.  Who knew someone wearing a caftan and gumboots could run so fast...?  I blame the Maypole dance before-hand for my being unable to catch him.

All in all, I was again reminded:  you really don't need more than a few people to have a party.

Blessed be!

Hinduism - amongst others.

I remember the one morning as my dad took my brother and I to school that his ears caught something the radio some Churchified person or another had said.  He quieted us as he listened to it, and for my life I couldn't figure out what the big deal was about, so I asked him.

"Die dominee op die radio," he said, "sê dat as julle 'n prentjie sien van iemand wat saam met 'n koei staan, is dit duiwels."

The thought struck me yesterday (yes, SUNDAY!) that the dominee had been speaking of an image of Lord Krishna with a cow.  I think it was Krishna - sadly my Hindu imagery needs some serious brushing up.  I know, however, that Lord Krishna liked herding cattle, and that much early Hindu life revolved around dairy.

Anyway, it put me in mind of something I read about the Apartheid regime and how very Churchified we all were pre-Democracy, and even for the first ten years afterwards, and it strikes me now as sad that an image sacred to some can be so badly misinterpreted by another religious leader.  By definition, aren't they supposed to be knowledgeable of such things as religious symbolisms?  Never mind.  I know better than that - too often our Church leader in Ugie would call something "New Age" of say that "in the Church's view...".  He's one of the last reasons I left the church and that way of life behind. Again, here's this really great guy, friendly in his own way - but sorely uninformed and rather a bit of a hypocrite, when it comes down to things.  So sad.

One of my fellow passengers on the bus to the Bayside Station this morning was a Hindu amma, dressed in saree and telling her japa mala (prayer beads).  She had them in this gorgeous little cotton bag with some loose beads on a short string tied to its strap.  I was listening to something that's usually a bit loud for my tastes, but on hearing her pray under her breath, I couldn't get myself to press "play" until I got off the bus at the station.  She was a normal auntie, hair held in an Alice band and a tortoiseshell hairclip, handbag, scarf and jacket - and telling a prayer string.  Cough and sniffing and all, there was just something calming about watching her tell her beads inside their little baggie printed with Sanskrit and images of Shiva and Shakti.

There is so much being done by the Pagan leaders of South Africa.  Let's hope that in some way they reach those stalwarts of the Other Faith and can convince them that they need toopen up and think for themselves.

Some poetry

"The incense crackles beside me
In the quiet space;
The tattooist makes his mark"

"The scent of jasmine
On the air;
The night is now at its end"

And that's about the most you'll get out of me for a long while :P

I've never been particularly good with poetry, even though I like reading it well enough.  I think I may have added to my English teacher's grey hairs growing up because of my general un-willingness to put prose to paper.  I can make up a poem on the run, but my word, never ask me to it into writing!  I have this obssession with written rhyme that goes beyond accepted levels of sanity.

The thing for me is that the first poems I heard were kiddies' rhymes.  Yes, I know, for the most part this applied to all of us, but for me it goes back to the thing where once I have the idea in my head, it sticks.  I have some difficulty being open to new ideas on something I "know".

I have one or two friends who actually have no poetic issues whatsoever.  The one is Ivic-Wulfe (his DevArt handle) and the other is my ollamh, who was supremely surprised to blog a poem he had written after a conversation over my last blog.  I loved the poem, but he told me honestly that he never "poems".  His poem is below, no paraphrasing or anything done to it:

"From the dark entrapments of HER soil,
I rise unto this world.
The dust swirl around my feet
as the winds sweep the leaves
to follow in a whirlwind of birth
where I now, in the eye of the hurricane
stand tall and free
an African Man.

Although my skin tells the tale
of Skyscrapers and Ossewa's,
my heart tells the sings the songs
of the Hyena's laughter,
while my blue eyes speak of
Union Jacks and the money market
Soul rumbles like a Lion,
reverberating through the forests,
for all my animal brothers and sisters to hear.
For I am an African Man.

For too long has HER soil
been broken and torn by clash
of our indifferent heritage.
The time is here to show the world
that all of us have at some point or other
been nursed on the placenta
of HER primeval void.
But we have denied her,
And set ourselves apart from,
while claiming always that we are not of  her.
White as I may be,
I am an African Man.

No longer do I linger
on the promises of a world fulfilled
by machines and hatred.
No longer do I beg for knowledge
at the feet of man
who does not hear HER heartbeat.
No longer do I wish to understand
the magick of Europeans,
Lost in their books.
I am an African Man.

My heart beats to rhythm of HER drum
and my every step is guided
by the Ancestors and the Buffalo
I learn from the tales
retold by the Zulu Shaman
and I feed on the nectar of HER breast
while embracing the magick
that moves not around me
but within my very being
For I am an African Man."

-Z.

Isn't this just lovely?

Peace, love and good Karma to one and all!!

P.S.:  for samples of Ivic-Wulfe's poetry, here's the link.

I'm such an interesting person that I really wish I had more to blog about.

As it happens, I don't have all that much, and I only blog when something interesting happens.

(Oh, that quip about me being interesting - just a quip!)

I have, however, started writing again.  Oh, no, nothing you'll find published, but stuff for my own enjoyment.  and not poetry.  Ugh.  I could never get into the flow of writing poems.

Thanks to my ollamh, I've "discovered" a "new" goddess:  Minona, the Dafomey goddess of divination (read 'fortune-telling'), sorcery/witchCraft and fertility, and also a protector of women.  According to most sites, she had no temples as I presume other gods did, but women built shrines to her in their houses and made offereings of fresh fruit to honour her.

I wonder... does 'fertility' also translate to desire or even lust?  Anyway.

The type of fortune-telling Minona was sent to Earth to teach people was the reading of palm kernels.  Sadly, that skill has been lost.  This is where the question arises of, can she thus be called upon for other forms of divination?  I'd like to think so, but then the original skill she taught gets ignored.  My Pagan friends, please give me your thoughts on this matter.

I know her Greek counterpart, Hecate, Mother of Witches, is a "general" goddess of divination.

As part of the course I'm doing with my ollamh, we have to do a book report (which, please note, I thought only existed in America).  As such, I've been doing quite a bit of reading, sadly forcing myself to do it (I've never enjoyed reading anything remotely non-fiction except for history).  I will admit, before one and all, though, that I'm truly enjoying what I'm reading so far, and even though the book is a bit dated form the time of its publishing, it still makes one think.

Why do we Pagans look more to the Paganisms of Europe and North America than to the Paganism to be found right outside our own doors?  Am I wrong in saying we do?  I mean, we live on the African continent, with such rich histories across Her surface.  Yes, the African people are NOT too fond of telling us their religious histories, but from those few who do, can't we learn?  I feel as though we lack a certain something in our Paganism that we sometimes overlook because of our European ancestry.

Anyway, just some thoughts.  Let me know what you think ;)

On the subject of LOVE...

...I honestly don't know half as much as I'd like to.

Let's be honest:  my idea of LOVE is by no means everyone else's.  My first sexual relationship was in a threesome and that tends to skew one's perceptions.

Not a very good way to start a blog posting, I know.  Let's try again.

I know something of Love, but not enough.  I've been in a few relationships and I've mainly known where I stood, except for the relationship I had with Rocco, but anyway.  None of them were all good, but NONE of them had parts where the bad outweighed the good.  I've loved and lost, and repeated the process a few times.  And yet, I by no means believe that the process is ready to end just yet.

In Greek, there are five words for love.  They have English equivalents, but I like the idea that for some of them you need to experience it to understand it (like the Xhosa concept of "rhala"-ring something).

Right, First off:

1. ἀγάπη agápē (Agape):  This is "unconditional love" as used in Modern Greek ( Σ'αγαπώ  s'agapo ("I love you")), though in Ancient Greek it was a more general term for deep affection or "true love", as compared to eros, which is more sensual.  In the Bible the term is more akin to "sacrificial love", and in ancient texts also as a feeling towards one's children or a spouse.  The early Christians used this term to describe the love of God.
2. ἔρως érōs (Eros):  is more passionate love, leaning towards sensuality, desire and longing.  The modern term "eratos" means "intimate love"; however, this doesn't by any means mean "eros" is sexual in nature. Think of it as more than friendship (philia) but less than agape.  It's also used for a dating relatinship and a marriage.  The writer Plato had a whole definition of his own, but since I dont understand it, you'll have to go and find it for yourself.  I will say that a more physical meaning of eros is the appreciation of beauty, youthful or otherwise, without being sexual.
3. φιλία philía (Philia):  This means "friendship" or "affectionate love" in Modern Greek.  As a concept developed by Aristotle, it's a virtuous, dispassionate love, and includes loyalty to friends, family and the community.  In the old texts, philos was more widely used and described a general type of love, such as between family, friends, desire or the enjoyment of an activity, or between lovers.
4. στοργή storgē (Storge):  This is "affection" in Ancient and Modern Greek.  It's natural, such as what parents feel for their children.  Apparently it wasn't much used in ancient works, and when it was it was more to describe relationships within the family.  The description also expresses it mere acceptance or "putting up with" situations (think of "loving" the tyrant.

I've been going through mixed feeling about Love recently, mainly because of the series I'm reading at the moment, the Kushiel's Legacy trilogies by Jacqueline Carey.  Simply put, I've really started thinking very seriously about an oft-repeated line that says, "Love as thou wilt".  Simply put:  "Follow your heart."  I like this precept so much.  It's simple and really says that we need to be more honest with ourselves and who/what we love.  I mean, I love my friends, and while I was going through my most promiscuous stage, I really and honestly did love the men that came to my bed.  If you want to call it lust, go for it; however, isn't "lust" just a form of short-lived Love?  I like to think so, because, let's face it, you don't get horny for someone who doesn't do it for you on some level.  Argue?

On top of that, our Pestilence lessons have been focusing on us knowing ourselves, and the ollamh has really been making us face that.  I love so much, but there's so much space in my heart for Love that it's a wonder I don't feel emptier than I do.  I realise how much of a twit this makes me sound, or a sap, but I feel I need to get this off my chest and share it.

I have issues, and the biggest ones are with Love.  J loves saying it's because of Rocco leaving, but in truth, I had issues even before that.  I like the fleeting sense of Love that gives you butterflies and makes you excited to see someone special.  I had that, and not just with one person; I had butterflies for a few guys, each of whom had his own place in my heart for his own reasons.  Let's take the dearly departed H:  he taught me to look for the happy surprises in life, because for as long as we worked in the same building and knew of each other, neither of us were brave enough to try and do anything about it.  However, I ALWAYS felt butterflies when I saw him or got a message from him.  Up until the last time we saw each other (a month before he died) my guts would flutter when I saw a message with his name on it.  I lost them all the day I found out he'd died.

I miss my butterflies.  I know it's a case of get over it and get them back, but with J, I never had them to begin with.  We just slipped into our relationship like a hot knife into butter.  Z, I can already see the images your head's forming...

So, starting now, I'm going to try and live more by the precept of "Love as thou wilt".  I'm hereby allowing myself to have more butterflies, from whoever I meet.  Yes, I realise how this both sounds and looks, but you know what?  I hold myself back from so much because of "what if"-s and "maybe this is a good ideas"-s and "how would the other person feel"-s every day.  I'm now, officially, opening up my heart to more Love.

PS:  There's a white background to the script in the Words for Love section; to read, just highlight that part with your mouse.  I'm sorry it's there, I just don't know how to get rid of it.  Love you all!

I am the Mirror

I am, especially to those who really know me, rather an emotional person.

I cry at the drop of a hat, smile when I see something I doubt others would notice, laugh for the little things and get irritated by stupidity (especially when it comes out of my own head).  Positive and negative live and share the moments in my daily life.

When it comes to my "tarot face", I'm a rather friendly reader and will do what I can to only give my sitters the advice I see in the cards, and I always try and remind them, if it's bad, it gets better.

My "home face", on the other hand, is a complete shambles.  Lately, my emotions have been completely out of sync with each other, and my two faces can't decide which one should be in place at which time anymore. I mean, really, I feel like the poster child for Bi-polar treatment most nights!

Tonight is one of those nights.  I had a really amazing evening, vacuuming the house after the 5 pm cartoon (please note, I just looked for the number "5" on my "D" key), having a shower and then rolling and frying flatbreads for supper.  I even watched both episodes of "Law and Order" on SABC3 and then "Supernatural", and decided, sod it, I only need to wash my hair tomorrow, not take a whole shower, so I did the dishes, too.

However, while I was busy with the dishes I thought about my friend Hannes.

I miss him so much.  He died last May and I only found out October, not really because it was anyone's fault.  We weren't the type of friends that spent hours talking on the phone or texting each other, but when we saw each other we spent hours catching up and chatting.

Just before J and I got involved Hannes and I met online.  We both worked in Tyger Valley in 2005/6 and just never gave it a shot, so meeting a year or so later and chatting from there we became friends.  It happened every now and then that we would both speculate on what would have happened if we'd ever started dating while we worked in Tyger Valley.  He always said he was interested, but never showed it because at that stage he was still in a relationship, albeit an unhappy one.  For my part, my gaydar was still in its fledgling stage, so I was clueless about him.

The point is, when we made ogies at each other we never spoke; when we did speak neither of us were ready for anything.  And when I wanted to discuss it again, I found out he'd had a heart attack five months previously.

I think I thought about Hannes because of the course I'm on at the moment.  It has been, politely put, an emotionally fucked up ride for me.  Again, it's no-one's fault at all.  In fact, the specific lesson I had in mind that sparked thoughts of Hannes went along these lines:

Our ollamh made us write out a list of eight people, a maximum of two celebrities; the rest were people we'd met or had in our lives.  Then he said, "Write down one quality that person taught you about."  So, in a different colour, we wrote a single quality our people had taught us (for instance, Jaqcueline Carey taught me, "Love as thou wilt" - be open and accepting of love and giving it).  Then the ollamh said, "Under that quality, write a colour that you feel describes that person."  Which we did.  Afterwards we discussed the lesson and he gave us tips on how to bring those colours into our lives.  One of the easiest ways is a bracelet, so he suggested we weave a bracelet with all the colours we listed so that each time we see the bracelet or one of the colours around us, we'd be reminded of that quality.

Hannes' lesson to me was to take joy in the surprises Life sends my way, and his colour is black.

I'm having so much trouble dealing with this that it's actually ridiculous.  Right now, I miss my friend, and I want to discuss this with him.  The horrid irony, despite knowing I'll meet him in our next lives, is that he is the one person I can't discuss this lesson with.

Tonight's post is about the not-so-happy side of FAMILIES!

I'm only going to touch lightly on the tarot tonight, and even so not as such.  What I mean is, at our monthly CTTA meeting the other day we discussed dream shields (a Native American device) and being a psychic detective.

The dream shield section of the talk was rather philosophical, and I have to admit that without my notes I don't think I would have remembered much of it.  However, it was incredibly interesting and the lady giving the talk, Philomina (I hope!) had the MOST amazing hair!  she's almost 60, doesn't look it, and only ever cuts her hair when she has split ends.  You go, ladyjaan!!

The psychic detective work, on the other hand, really touched something in me.  As a cartomancer it's my purpose to listen to the problems of my sitters and offer them advice and possibilities.  Why not take that a step in a more formal direction and help the police with our gifts?  Not only cartomancy, but runes, bones or just feelings are an incredible help to the police, and would you believe, they're so much more open to the idea of psychic detective work than what we would think.

In fact, I'll get her permission, then post details for the lady who gave the talk up on the next blog.

Now, time for the serious (and very touchy) part of the post.

We had a friend over for coffee this evening and as the conversation went we got talking about the nastier sides of family.  Not my family, not your family, but families worldwide.

As a prime example:  we recently went through the passing of someone very close to my family.  There were things said and semi-agreements made and basically the possessions were divided among the remaining family.  BOOM!!  Suddenly the jewellery box is missing, three quarters of the paintings have gone to those who didn't want them originally and the furniture is also missing in action.  WTF!?  I mean, this poor woman has JUST died and her two eldest children and/or their partners have already villified themselves.

On the other end of the line a friend of mine is having issues with her elder sister.  M has a good job with a vet where she earns what she's worth, by the grace of Goddess.  Her sister, from what I understand, also has a good salary to her name, but would you believe, she's having conniptions because her little sister gets paid more than she does!

another person I know quite well used to run a company with his elder brother; point in fact, he owned the company and his brother was his employee.  When the business got money in, for obvious reasons, there would be salaries all around.  However, as with all artisan-based companies, there were quiet months where there were little to no salaraies.  Will this older brother not run to his mother to complain!?  I ask you, with tears in my tree green eyes, how the hell that works.  I mean, here we have a forty-something-year-old running to their mother because little brother can't pay his salary.  So little brother, being the upstanding guy that he is, pays his big brother - out of his own fucking pocket!!


Sorry, I just realised I've never actually sworn on this blog before.

This is one of a few examples I can list here of people bullying one of their own family members.  I mean, seriously, wake up, people!  Blood is supposed to be thicker than water.  We're supposed to be taking care of each other; instead we run around behind each other's back and try to belittle our family members because they have less, or their lives have worked out differently to ours.  Do you know what the worst of it all is?  When they're caught or confronted about it, they've conveniently got no idea what you're talking about, flat out REFUSE to see that they're in the wrong, or WILL NOT apologise for their mistakes.  Fuck that shit!

So, here is a direct and very confrontational message to all you family bullies, you "better than thems" or those of you who stir trouble:

GROW UP!!

My relationship and its status...

... is not up for discussion unless you ask me about it directly.  Is that understood?  I apologise profusely for being so confrontational and nagging about this, but I realise that unless I pull a You-(should) Know-Who, the message isn't going to get through:  if I make mention of the relationship, ask me about it, because I made the mention.  A few of you reading this know exactly what I'm talking about, as does Julian.  He ( and the few who know what's doing ) also knows my irritation is well-founded.

Right-o, moving on.

With the stress of moving ( the actual move is happening tomorrow ) my mom and I decided to have a knertsie for our nerves.  So we each had a little bit of strawberry cream, and since I had plans to run to the shops to return an allergy bracelet, I downed mine so I could get done and go.  I hereby apologise for any errors, grammatical or otherwise, that you find in this entry.  I never did get to the shops, if that clarifies anything...

I got a lovely Medieval Scapini Tarot deck as a gift from Z the other night.  The poor dear hasn't been feeling all that well, but M&M and I stopped by their house the other night to drop off a birthday gift for the Prime Elder of the Tradition and, as is wont when Pagans and friends get together, we all ended up chatting, but sort of in shifts:  ME went off with Z to the Temple space and they had a fat chat about ... something.  Then, as we're getting our stuff sorted and getting ready to maneuvers, he pulled me into the Temple spac eand showed me his tarot collection.  Wow.  Me likey lotsa.

Anyway, as we left he gave me his spare Medieval Scapini.  Wow.  It's LOVELY!  Below are my thoughts on the deck.

Two quick scans ( although I wanted to do it with MUCH higher resolution :( )

The art of the MS is probably best described as being "modern medieval".  What that means is that while there's much "archetypal" medieval symbolism and the figures are drawn in an almost illuminated manuscript style, you also find many modern symbols and images inside the art of the cards.

This is what I mean:

If that isn't a flying saucer, then call me Susan!

Here's another one:

I'm in two minds about this one, though my first thought was, "Another UFO!!", and it's still the predominant thought in my mind.  On reflection, it could be a covered dish or something along that line ( the King's been thrown from his castle; why not his supper, too? ), but I still see a UFO in this card.

In the Ace of Swords, I found this little gem:

Yes, I realise that by this time the Crusaders might have brought faint elements of Far Eastern art with them from Jerusalem et al, but as the artist himself ( apparently ) confessed, when he designed this deck after re-creating the lost cards of the Visconti-Sforrza Tarot, he didn't really know much about tarot interpretations; I'm guessing that at this stage he just put in some things he considered mystical and "tarot-ish".

As for the interpretations of these cards...

... I'll let you know what I think about them once I've had the chance to get my hands on a copy of the LWB  (^_^)

What I can tell you, from official reviews, is that the LWB seems to be indispensible.  Unless you have it, or have used the MS before, you won't have much of an idea of what's going on.  Since I don't have the LWB, I'll have to sit and think carefully about using this deck now or later, once I've sat and worked through it a bit.

Some thoughts over the last week.

After my post last week Julian didn't want to really talk to me.  Yes, he was the single Christian at the braai that Sunday.

We had a chat about interfaith relationships (specifically Christian/Pagan) before we got to why he was really unhappy:  I voiced my thoughts on a same-faith relationship not to him, but to the Internet.

Perhaps I should have at least warned him what I was up to, or what was running around in my head.  I don't usually, but then, usually my entries aren't quite so personal.  I never try to hurt anyone with my entries; I jsut say what's on my mind at the time.  Unfortunately, what was on my mind didn't include Julian, but dreams and thoughts of someone else.

That said, through asking a thingy here and reading a few cards there, with a little bit of spying mixed into all of that, I've noticed that people never speak to me about my relationship directly.  Remix:  those friends that read the blog don't ask me about our relationship directly.  Maybe I'm stepping on some toes here, but guys and girls, I'm the one typing the blog and venting here, not Julian.  This is a space for me to say what I'm thinking or going through and venting.  Julian might get a mention occasionally, but he isn't involved in the blogs I post and has no say over what I do or don't put up.  If anyone's worried about what I put up, speak to me.  I don't like the Snake or the Page of Swords coming up in readings I do for my blogs.

Am I making sense here?

On a MUCH lighter note:

This is Gizmo.  She's a very recent (like, just over 24 hours recent) addition to the clan.  She's a rescue that couldn't stay at her rescuer's house because the dam that was already there kept getting territorial, so she came to me.  I'm keeping her in the room for a few days just to get used to me before I let the dogs and guinea pig meet her.  Zan says Moscow should be OK with her, and I know BG will be, but I'm never sure what Moscow will do around people or other animals.

Going to run now.  Have stuff to sort out and and and...

So sleep tight and see you guys soon.

So at this Church bazaar a while back...

... a little girl was standing there, loud and proud, with her basket of kittens.
  "Christian kittens for sale!  Christian kittens for sale!" this little girl shouted at the top of her lungs.
  The pastor, all happy and proud of this little girl for selling her "Christian kittens" with such proud abandon, very happily bought two from her.

Two weeks later, at another market, the same little girl stood with her basket of kittens for sale, but her message this time was, "Pagan kittens for sale!  Pagan kittens for sale!"
  The same pastor, who happened to be bargain-hunting, was mortified when he heard her.
  "My child," he said, "two weeks ago you were selling Christian kittens.  How did they become Pagan kittens!?"
  The little girl looked up at the pastor and said, deadly earnest, "Oh, no, pastor, it's simple:  last time their eyes were still closed."

(Shared, with some editing, after that of the fabulous Z. Katz)

We were at a braai last weekend and there were only six of us there.  Out of the six of us, the one Christian stood out a bit, but he didn't mind too much.  I can very happily report that he has his opinions, we have ours, and we all get along happily enough.

When I heard this joke, the thought struck me that we, as the Christians do, tend to lump everyone in the same pot.  "Christians this, Christians that!" we shout, without taking the time to actually single out those individuals or individual groups that actually cause us the metaphorical grief we go through.  In the same breath, yes, the Christians LOVE shouting' "Pagans this, Pagans that!", but some of them are also trying to send the message of "Single him/her/them out."

Am I making any sense here?

I took part in a competition yesterday (body art/beauty/maquettes) and was involved with two sections:  as a model for Section 4 (Hand and Arm Prosthetics) and as an entrant for Section 7 (3D masks:  Venetian Creations).  I didn't win in my section, but my artist won second place in hers.  The point is, there were some REALLY beautiful men there, not only in terms of models, etc, but some of the really normal, Camel-man type beauties as well, and I had a roving eye for most of the day.  Yes, I am in a relationship, but looking at these men and thinking about last week's braai, I couldn't help myself from thinking, I would really love to have a Pagan boyfriend.  It's a personally discriminatory thing for me to have thought, because you should be happy with the love you have, faults included; I also know of AT LEAST one other couple that are a Christian/Pagan blend, and their kids follow their own paths.  But, that said, it doesn't change the fact that, given the chance, I wouldn't mind in the least having a Pagan boyfriend/lover.  Or even agnostic.  Would it be a way for me to properly cut my ties with my Christian upbringing (yes, shocker, I was a right little Churchified happy clappy, but in hindsight, I always liked the activities more than the messages I was supposed to be learning)?  Or is it the way most people think when it comes to their faiths?

Ironically, wanting a Pagan boyfriend hearkens back to the Christian idea of marrying inside your own faith. That'd be ever so slightly hypocritical of me, I think:  cut your ties, but sneak one of them into your life.

UUUURGH!  My head says it's time to stop babbling so much and start making sense.

This post is going to be doing some jumping around on multiple topics. Here goes...

I've had a Lenormand deck of cards for a few years now, but never really used them until recently (as in, less than a year ago).

In this time I've learnt that my Lenormand aren't quite what's been out there for a number of years.  For instance, most decks have a card called The Ship - I have The Train.  there are also other cards and Images I have that other Lenormand don't, and vice versa, and at one point it had me wondering, Is this even real!?


I then took some time out the one afternoon to have a look through the companion book* and have a look at the tarot associations for the cards and came to the conclusion that my Lenormand are as real as the other decks out there.  So there are a few differences (biggest being that mine don't tie in with playing cards, nor have any such symbolism, and the few card substitutions), but don't we have the same thing in tarot?  Look at the Beast's Thoth tarot:  instead of the Pages and Temperance, he has Princesses and Art.  Why should it make his tarot any less real then what old Arthwaite went and made?  For those who don't know, Arthwaite's Rider-Whaite-Smith tarot is a reimagining/corruption of the traditional "Marseilles-style" tarot, which itself is one derivation of the Visconti-Sfroza Tarot.

So, back to Lenormand:  I'm now part of a Lenormand Card study group online - wow!  That's all I'm saying on this right now anymore.

Touching on a subject I went on about last time, the wine shop at the Old Biscuit Mill (aptly named "Wine @ the Mill") had a selection of curries and stews that they served up as... BUNNY CHOW!!  Would you believe, I go ten years without seeing a bunny chow and suddenly I see hundreds of the bedamned things in one week, on two separate occasions.  it's so weird how things turn out....

On the topic of curry:  my sister has had this craving for wraps for a long while, so Friday my mom decides, right, we're making rootis for supper.  So, 5.00pm she's finished her class and had a shower and it's off to the brand new, simply GIGANTIC new Checkers that opened up on Sandown Road to get chicken, veggies and whatever else we might need for our chicken curry rootis.  Ingredients bought, shop closing warning received, we make our way back home - and realise, just before Parklands Junction, that we don't have any wraps or rootis.  Out of everything to have forgotten, we go and forget the ingredient that gives the meal its name.

Rush into Woolies - no, too pricey.  And small.  Rush all the way down Wood Drive (Friday evening traffic, please note) to Spar - also small,, but cheaper and good quality.  At least, that's what we thought, until Zan and I actually worked out the number of rootis in the packets and relative "so much per rooti".  It turns out, Woolies would have been the cheaper option with eight rootis for R35, whereas Spar were almost R30 for six...

Touching on "The Process" again, I'm on chapter 22 now.  WOW!  Again, WOW!  I can't get over how amazing I'm finding the whole thing.  One thing he said has been running and bouncing around in my head for the last two weeks, and it goes along the lines of, "Sitters come to us [divinators] because we fulfil a unique need in their lives.  Yes, they can very easily and for the same price most professional readers charge go to a psychologist or counsellor, but they come to US, as readers.  Why?  I just spent a few minutes trying to put thoughts to words for the possible reasons, and you know what?  I kept coming up blank.  I think they come to us because they can.  Make no mistake, there are a few that come for the mysticism and magic others, and some that come to us to hear the answers they want that maybe other people or circumstances in their lives aren't giving them; but, I personally think, for the most part they come to us because we can help them in a way most other people can't.

The cards are our tools.  Runes, Lenormand, tarot, bones... they're all of them a way for the sitter to get an answer from us without us seeming as if we're shrinks.  They can block out, forget for a moment, that we're also people, and ignore that we're interpreting the cards on their behalves.  WE aren't the ones giving them advice or helping them with an issue.  Its the cards doing all the work.  We aren't even the ones doing all the talking, it's the voices of the cards making themselves heard.  They can let themselves forget for a moment that so MUCH that goes into and comes out of a reading is what we see in the sitter, how s/he reacts, what s/he says.  That's fine, you know.  Our work as readers is to read our cards/stones/bones and conveying what we see to the sitter.  Making him/her happy by being calm and doing our work is the most important thing we can do for him/her.  Reading what we see and conveying it the best we can is simply an extension of that....

Blessed be!

Ooooh, baby! I found out someone actually reads these posts (^_^)

That said, anyone who really knows me knows I love food, even though I don't have the biggest repertoire of recipes or the greatest culinary imagination.

THAT said, anyone who truly knows me knows I love curries and pizza.  On the topic of curry, Zan, Amma and I spent some of the day in Town looking for a pipe for P, as well as just walking around Shortmarket Street for a bit and popping into the Golden Acre Mall to see the ruins of the original reservoir.  Nice little piece of history.

On the walk back up from Golden Acre we stopped, as we are wont to do, at a stall with shiny things.  The stallholder's name is Myroenesa (may-rrho-nee-sah) and when asked for a suggestion for a lunch spot sent us to the Eastern Food Bazaar.  That involved walking all the way BACK DOWN Shortmarket, crossing the road, and following the smell of curry to what we were told would be an Indian restaurant.  Well, the smell of curry certainly led us to Indian food.

Bunny chow - Amma was rather surprised when she saw the men at the next table eating this.  When she asked for a photo, he looked at her funny, but let her snap one anyway.

We all had the 405 from the Madras Dosa House:  a Chicken Masala Dosa.  It.  Was.  Stunning!!  And so filling, too, that we all brought most of it home and had it for supper.

The menu for the Madras Dosa House.  You order and pay at the far right end of the counter (out of shot - obviously), then hand the (apparently arrogant) Indian chef your slip for your order.  In the silver bowl to the right (also out of shot) is a bowl of coconut chutney - amazing, but f***ing hot!

a)  This is the nice gentleman that let Amma take the photo of his food.

b)  The chandeliers are pretty, aren't they?

The whole bazaar was fitted into this one corridor in the... well, some building in Town.  The decor was provided mostly by beautiful old Indian doors, with "typically" Indian music playing in the background.  The whole feel of the place is one of relaxation and simply enjoying an incredible meal.

And this is Myroenesha.  She gets full credit for the amazing lunch we had (^_^)

Lately I've been stuck on old, medieval / middle-aged instruments.  Now, let it be known I can't play an instrument to save my life (I can barely hold three notes on a recorder), but I so badly would love to learn to play a citole.  The reason for this is that I quite honestly find guitars, pianos and even Western-style violins overplayed.  I don't find them as exciting as I did before, and since importing a Pipa isn't very financially viable (never mind getting new strings or finger plectra).  With a citole, strings are made of the normal nylon/gut we use on classical guitars, and other types of gut strings are also easier to get hold of.  As it is, a gentleman by the name of Paul Butler has greatly inspired me to at least try and make a citole.  Also, having a guitarist and former instrument repairman in my life isn't hurting my chances of (at least partial) success.

Let's all hold thumbs and see what happens, eh?

On to tarot (my greatest love).  I've been listening to Dan Pelletier's "The Process:  The Way of the Tarot Reader" and can quite honestly say that it's only the second piece of tarot "literature" I've truly enjoyed, the first being Christine Jette's "Professional Tarot".  As whacky as it sounds, his voice is comforting, and I can honestly say he regularly has me laughing at things that wouldn't make sense to other people.  He makes you listen, even if you don't immediately absorb the information, and though the best idea is to sit and take notes, it's easy enough to listen to while you're busy and still be learning something.  What's nice about it - since it isn't a paper-and-ink book - is that you can rewind something if you've missed it, and where you might sometimes not understand something written down, Mr Pelletier's voice immediately makes any meanings clear.

The entire audiobook starts with him speaking to "you" on the phone and making an appointment for noon the next day; from there, he takes "you" through rose-garden related activities and likens the tarot to his roses, people and experiences in his life.  He often speaks of his friend Dutch and his cats.

As a teacher he is stern and to the point, but also funny and aware (constantly reminding "you", actually) that his path in the tarot isn't "your" path in the tarot.  Besides constantly telling "you" to get rid of your LWB and giving you general tips and pointers in regards to the cards, he doesn't try and teach you meanings or how the cards "should" be read.  All of this he leaves up to "you", and rather enjoys "shooting down", for (current) lack of a better description, authors and experts on the history and interpretations of the cards.  One example that springs to mind is from the "Interpretations" section of the audiobook, where he quotes an author on his/her interpretation of the Empress in combination with three other cards:  pregnancy, pregnancy, pregnancy (in summary).  He shoots these "interpretations" down and justifies this by mentioning hysterectomies, barrennes and a lack of an active sex life.

The best way to experience this audiobook is to get hold of it for yourself.

All in all, "The Process:  The Way of the Tarot Reader" is an incredible audiobook and well worth acquiring.

Blessed be!!

I know for a fact that I'm neither the best nor the most imaginative chef around>

That doesn't mean I can't cook at all, though, or be good at it.

When I was at school I wanted to become a chef.  I loved cooking while I still lived at home, but my mother's stomach (or burning thereof) limited what I was allowed and thus able to cook.  Plus, we seldom had anything exciting in the house to experiment with - it was the barest minimum of what we needed.

No, I'm not telling you this for a sob story.  Goodness knows I hear enough of them, and prefer hearing them to telling them.

After I left school my second job involved admin at a hotel, where my meals, since I lived on the premises, were provided by management.  None of the staff were even allowed in the kitchen to make our own tea.  The kitchen staff made and brought it to us.

I had better luck living with my aunt, in terms of experimentation, but even so, I couldn't use some of my favourite spices.

When I lived alone, I very rarely ate at night - I simply didn't see the point in cooking for only one person every night.

So, supper tonight was a risk for me.  I used a recipe I pulled off of Google for dumplings, and though they fell apart and I forgot the salt in the filling, I have to say I rather enjoyed it.  Mommy to the rescue:  I haven't the faintest idea on how to make a gravy, so my mom rescued the dumplings from killing us with boredom by making a delicious sweet/sour gravy for it.  Wow...  Even thinking about it makes my tummy happy again.

On the topic of food:  why is the Neo-<insert description here> movement suddenly giving rise to so many vegetarians?  I look at myself and draw on the descriptions of a rather prominent figure of South African Pagan who says that while our [Pagan] ancestors most certainly lived very close to nature, they were by no means vegetarians.  I refer here to Anglo-Saxon / Celtic Pagans.  So many of us who follow this path suddenly convert to vegetarianism  - what real reason is there behind it?  I mean, I can understand if it were part of our religion (as it is for some Buddhists or all Jainists), but those who follow the other gods rarely ate only one food.  Do I have the wrong end of the story here again?

I wouldn't be too surprised - my nose is all stuffy and that usually affects my cognitive functions.

I've finally managed to get hold of Dan Pelletier's "The Process", in which he likens his tarot journey to his rose garden.  Please, if you get the chance, listen to it - it's brilliant, and I love the way he draws the listener into the story - you actually sit there and see the way he speaks about his roses and how he likens them to the tarot.  I'm going to listen to it the first chance I get, but from what I've heard so far:  anyone in the tarot should REALLY get this audiobook!

I like Chinese food and things and and and...

No, that doesn't make much sense, and I'll be the first one to admit that.  Hee hee!

My mind's been in a bit of a twist the last two days thanks to a tummy bug doing the rounds.  I'd hoped it was flushed out by today, but apparently not.

Anyway, gross topic with TMI.

We had Chinese food for supper (the U-Seng Sweet and Sour family meal) because I got this gier to try out wonton dumplings.  OMG!!  They are wonderful!  The ones my mom and Pierre ordered were the pan-fried pork dumplings and man, the it was so certainly worth the spinach!

In this shot:  Sweet and Sour pork nuggets, no dough; chow mein noodles with chicken and veggies; the last vegetable spring roll; and the three white dumplings.  OMG!

while I waited for the food (the two "elders" made like bananas and  split) I wandered around the little supermarket they have attached to the restaurant.  They have some really interesting things in there!  They also have some really unidentifiable things in there.

One of the more unusual items is what they call in Chinese "Hundred Year Eggs".  Don't worry, they aren't really 100 years old.  No, it's duck eggs that are covered (traditionally) with a layer of clay and rice husk.  As the clay dries and the egg ages, it actually chemically preserves the egg and changes the flavour.  It doesn't look too appetising, I have to say, but have a look for yourself and think it over for the next round of munchies (oops!  Did that come out...?):  en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Century_egg

On another note, and one more closely related to tarot:

I've been relearning my runes.  No, not in terms of the written alphabet (I know and use that anyway), but in terms of divinations.  All I can say is, thank goodness for tarot.  If not for the cards I do believe I would have had a much harder time of this.  I made a set of willow runes about ten years ago, but only used them once or twice.  Now, with time and reason to learn them again, i actually find them easier to work with.  I can't read them as "fluently" as my cards yet, nor remember their proper names (I only have the Anglo-Saxon names in my little book - really frustrating!), but I do have a better grasp of them now, and I say it's thanks to my experience with the tarot.

I also learned that the study of runes (all varieties), is know as Runology :P

Here's hoping I can get my lazy rear end (mentally speaking) back into learning them properly!

OK, so I'm a tad behind on my people skills.

Earlier tonight I rescued a little rain spider (probably a male, otherwise a baby) that only had four legs left to its body, two to each side of it.

In the shower now, that got me thinking about life.

Our lives very much resemble those of spiders:  as we grow, we go through different and unique stages in our lives.  I want to smack anyone I hear speaking of a "normal" life or "normal" experiences.  The only "normal" about anyone's life, from one person to the next, is that we get through these different stages the same way a spider moults - it sheds the old exoskeleton, the broken and damaged one, and moves to the next.

This even goes for those poor people working desk or call centre jobs - you have precisely the same job and duties as the person in the next cubicle - hells, you might even have your one dog and 2.4 children - but your thoughts, dreams and ides are yours and yours alone.

The same way spiders lose legs and body hair for defence, we tend to cut out or let go of those situations that  hurt us or cause us emotional harm.  This can even be likened to the people who drain us, what we call "emotional vampires":  we let them go because they damage us.  They make up those body hairs we release for defence.

The enterprising members of our race build their webs and maintain them as part of their plans and dreams.  others also build webs, but then wait for something to walk into them.  Yet other have given up fixed webs in favour of going out into the big, wide world and looking for "nourishment" - spiders do the same.  Orb-weavers build their big-ass webs every night, or every few nights, and maintain them, keeping track of the damage they may pick up and replacing them often to keep them sticky.  Funnel spiders build their webs in the short grasses in the veld and wait for something to walk into them, not replacing their webs nor maintaining them because they see no need to.  Jumping spiders, among my favourites, roam our houses and our gardens looking for their prey.

Basically, we aren't really so different, in our day-to-day lives, as the spiders so many of us so (VERY WRONGLY) squash or kill with Doom or Baygon.  We build our webs or roam through our lives, but we all go and look for dreams where our biology sends us.

The biggest thing is, we're human; we can change our "biology".

To point out how absolutely exciting my life has been lately, there's been rather a large gap since the last entry.

Also, every time I just latch onto something to write about, I don't happen to have pen or paper nearby, thus forgetting all the interesting and really cool stuff I had in mind for this blog.

Ugh much?

So, this time, I'm starting slow and hoping the cool stuff jumps in somewhere along the go of things.

It took me years to get into the flow of shuffling my tarot cards properly (or any cards, for that matter), and to this day I will still drop one or two or a whole lot of them when I'm shuffling.  Initially I was also extremely paranoid about damaging my cards while trying to slide one lot in with the other lot.  Until I hit on this really simple little trick that I wish someone had taught to me early on.

Im also going to explain it so that whoever reads this as a tarot card reader will take this with him/her and teach his/her clients to shuffle properly.

1. Hold the deck face-up in your taking (weaker) hand.
2. Now, simply roll the deck over onto your fingers.
3. OK, now you can shuffle them face-down with your giving (stronger) hand:  curve your fingers slightly so that they form a sort of basket for your cards, then take a small pile of cards from the bottom of the deck (the lot against your fingers) and bring it up slightly above the main deck.
4. With your weaker thumb, pull a few cards off the top of the smaller pack and onto the top of the main pile.  DO NOT FORCE THE CARDS OF THE SMALLER PACK INTO THE MAIN PACK!!  Not only will you frustrate yourself, you could seriously (i.e., PERMANENTLY and VERY VISIBLY) damage your cards.
5. Repeat this action until you feel you've shuffled enough (or, if you're using your LWB, follow the instructions).
6. You can now shuffle your deck.
7. Or, if this made no sense at all, wait until I've uploaded the video of what I'm talking about.

It bugs the living NIGHTLIGHTS out of me to see some client sit and shuffle the cards face-up, and it gets frustrating to have to explain that they're doing it wrong.  So please, spread the word and let them learn to shuffle the cards properly!!

Back to more serious things.

I read a post on Facebook earlier tonight about how members of certain groups and covens back-stab and undermine others, particularly when it comes to the leaders or anyone in a key position.  You know, we're supposed to above all that.  We shouldn't be hunting after power and / or trying to cause anyone's downfall, but my word, we sound more and more as if we're slipping back into the Dark and Middle Ages.  Wake up, fools!  We're supposed to love and help our fellow man, and charity starts at home.  How the hells can we expect to do any good in the world if we can't even play our parts when it comes to keeping the house clean?!  We are NOT a part, or off-shoots of, the "main" religions, but Goddess knows, we certainly behave as though we are.

WAKE UP!!  We're supposed to be separate from all that; why are we aspiring TO it instead?

I promised more on bees - here it is :)

Sadly, it isn't that much, but it does deal with swarms and hives and the differences (as I remember them).

So, last time it was about treating bee stings.  When a bee stings you, get it out as quickly as possible and take the appropriate medication (if necessary).  But what do you do about a swarm of bees?

OK, it turns out swarms fall into two categories:  I call them "moving" and "protective".  a Moving swarm is just that:  the hive has taken off after the queen and is now looking for a new location for their hive (this also applies to the little queens and their new hives).  A Protective swarm is this:  the hive has been disturbed for some reason and the workers are trying to protect their queen, and the best way to do that is by stinging (well, duh, they are bees, after all).  The thing with beehives is that the hive will never attack without provocation.  Usually the hive has been disturbed by humans or honey badgers, bee-eaters or other animals after their carbohydrate treasure.  Sometimes the hive has to be moved because they constitute a threat of some kind to children or the elderly.  Whatever the case, there has been a disturbance of the hives and the workers are in full attack mode.  This is where the beauty of nature becomes deadly:  it only takes one bee's sting to incite the others to swarming.

This is done by the release of pheromones in the apitoxin (bee venom) when the sting is delivered.  As bees communicate visually and by smell, pheromones are a perfect war-flag.  Not only do the released pheromones "activate" the workers' defensive kamikaze modes, they also identify the target (hypothetically, the poor, inexperienced fool tasked with removing the possibly dangerous hive to a safer location).  Once this attack drive is activated, the bees will attack the threat until such a time as they feel it isn't a threat anymore.  Many people who die of bee stings die because of swarm attacks for this very reason.

Right, it's after midnight and my eyes are on fire.  I'm off to bed and I hope you will be, too.

Sleep tight!

For those of you who don't know, I'm allergic to bees.

What does that mean?  Well, simply put, it means that if a bee stings me and the sting is left untreated the bee's venom (apitoxin) will cause enough swelling to reach my heart or my throat.  in either case, the swelling will kill me.

Now, how does a person treat a bee sting?  Quite simply, you can't.  Not really.  A bee's sting is basically a heavily modified egg-laying organ (ovipositor) that now carries venom and a bard instead of eggs.  When the bee stings you, the bard on the sting catches and the sting is ripped from the bee's body, thus ending her life.  For you, the stung, is has another implication, though.  The bard makes sure that the sting stays in your skin long enough to deliver its full dose of venom.  Regardless of what you do, the amount of venom delivered is always the same.

To remove a sting is actually easier than it sounds.  The old-fashioned way is to remove the sting by sliding a blade in under the slant of the sting and to scrape it out.  Since you already have the venom in you, that doesn't matter, though, and you can remove the sting any way you like.  I rubbed mine off when I got stung on Saturday, like it was dust.  If you do feel the need to remove it with something flat, please don't go looking for a knife - paper works just as well, and most people have at least one money note somewhere on them.  Once the sting is out, you have nothing to worry about anymore.  Just try not to scratch the itch from the sting for the next few days.

For those of us who are allergic, getting our medicine as soon as possible after the sting is of tantamount importance.  The swelling can either stop our hearts or suffocate us.  Any anti-histemine will work, but I would personally suggest either Phenergan or Celestimine.  Carry them with you at all times just in case.  I was lucky, I was stung just outside a petrol station on Saturday, so getting my pill in was really simple, but we aren't all that lucky.  Try and keep a small bottle of water with you as well for swallowing the pills.  Also, don't panic at all:  the faster your heart beats, the better your chances of the venom spreading.  Take slow, deep breaths, and the tablets also won't hit you with too many side-effects (diziness, etc).  I'm not quite sure how that works, but it does.

I'll give you guys more on handling bees in the next post.  Until then - sleep tight!!

Her'e a question all readers have at one point or another: "How do I learn to read?"

The easiest (and personally best) answer to give is to say, "Use the Little White Book", which is the answer I gave.  I wonder now, in retrospect, if it was the right answer to give.  I gave it because that's how I started my tarot journey, with very little idea of how anything works, much less my own intuition.  I still have my first LWB, wrapped up in home-made laminating and travelling around wherever I go in the same velveteen bag their companion deck travels in.

But what now about those who can't start like I started, those who don't have the advantage of having afternoons and weekends and weeks off from school, like I did (yes, I know, I should have focused on my school-work, but the cards were much more fun)?  How do people like this learn the cards?

The question of "How?" was tonight asked by a doctor friend in New York City who works in public health with HIV/AIDS.  I gave her the LWB answer, but I doubt she has enough free time on her hands to actually sit and work through the little pamphlet, folding and refolding it, while she works with her patients.  For her, it's easy enough to track down the American Tarot Association and find a tutor/mentor through them.  In South Africa, how does one do that?  Here in Cape Town we haven't got anything even nearly like the ATA, though we do have the Cape Town Tarot Association, but most of us have other jobs and or hobbies that very often pull us away from our tarot.  In regards to mentoring and tutoring, there are very few members of the CTTA who have that amount of free time to sit and work with someone, and in this tiny little group even fewer who have the actual skill to guide anyone in the cards.  I know I tried it once, and it wasn't a flop, but it didn't work out half as well as we'd both hoped it would, mainly because she already had a tarot basis to work with and the material we used was so very different from what she'd already started doing on her own.  Some teachers also tend to charge more than some students can afford, while the majority of teachers seem to float around the City more than in the suburbs.  Maybe I have this wrong, but it's been my experience.

If only we could pull ourselves together and start working together as tarot card readers and not only tarot enthusiasts; tarot helpers and mentors instead of tarot "oh-I'll-do-it-myself"s.  We need to grow up when it comes to things like this.  Am I wrong, or not completely correct?

Right, ranting aside, something I found useful when it comes to tarot books is tagging.  No, not tagging online.  I mean actual sticky-tape-and-paper tags, or filing tags.  I did it originally with a copy of the "Tarot Bible" and now did it again, and slightly more completely, with the companion book for the Grail Tarot.  I tagged the Major Arcana Chapter on its own, then tagged out the suits, and then sub-tagged all the court and pip cards. This way, while I work with the book, it's easier to find the correct card instead of struggling with pages sticking together for some reason or another.  I also tagged out the "Working with the Cards" and "Spreads" pages to make it easier.

The sad thing is, it's such a nicely set out book, I didn't want to bend the spine.  However, it IS a working book, so you WILL bend the spine as you work with your cards and get to know them, and the constant back and forth through the book may even eventually loosen a few pages.  If you happen to buy a "how-to" book, but don't want to bend the spine, you might just as well throw it in the rubbish for all the real good it will do you.  Or, be a bit more practical and take it back for a refund and stick to the LWB.  Whatever.

Anyway, this cat's off to bed.  Have fun and sleep tight, guys and gals!