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.