Saturday, November 26, 2016

The Friendsgiving 13

Sounds like the name of a holiday movie directed by Quentin Tarantino, doesn't it?

This year we carried on our annual tradition of inviting our friends to join in our celebration with us, and ended up having 13 people around our table. More or less. The kids were sort of all over the place, since we ate outside.

While I typically bitch and moan about the Eternal Summer around here, I'll never tire of these mild Thanksgivings where we can throw open all the windows and move all the chairs outside.

Joe, our Thanksgiving maestro, really outdid himself on the organization and running of the show. This is his favorite holiday, and he always takes charge of cooking the turkeys (we always end up with 2) and the ham. But this year, he turned our microwave in to a white board, and took charge of all the sides we were making (aside from the cranberry sauce) and the last minute tidying too, because I wasn't feeling well and wanted to be fit for company by dinner time.

None of that canned stuff, thank you very much.

I didn't take many photos this year, nor did I drag out my dslr. I just did the super modern thing of using my phone and a selfie stick to snap a picture of everyone before we dug in.

There was good food, great company, and better conversation. The kids ran amuck. Orion pretty much ended up having just pie for dinner, the grownups stayed up well past bedtime sharing stories and laughing.

I always center this holiday on gratitude, family, friendship, and food over any tall tales of Thanksgiving's origins. And this year, I have so much to be grateful for. A warm home. Food in my belly. Clean water that's easily accessible. A curious boy, a loving husband. Good friends. Art, and magic, and honest discussions that have helped me grow over the past year... even when it was uncomfortable to do so.

Tuesday, November 15, 2016

This Little Light of Mine

Despite the thick haze, I was able to see the moon last night. From my vantage point, she didn't look much larger than usual. But there was a definite hush outside; it was so incredibly quiet. Everything was completely still. It was just the moon and the wood smoke, and it made me whisper to the quiet two words: Phoenix Magic.

Waxing poetically in text about how I'm going to tear things down and start over, is the easy part. Even the realization that I need to tear down pedestals, let go, burn it down, and rise again wasn't too difficult.

The hard part is in the follow through. It's frightening. When I think too much about it, I feel as if I'm on a ship at sea and can't find my bearings. So I hold tight to something solid and reliable, even if that doesn't serve my best interests.

So, last night, under the super moon, I cleared off and cleaned up the altar for the first time in months, and began to rekindle my light. And I found something heavy that I can hold on to when I need to be grounded, something to help point me in the right direction: a compass.

Often I've felt that my husband knows my heart and can feel the way the winds are blowing me before I'm even aware that there's a breeze. He gifted me this beautiful brass compass, and a wee anchor, for our anniversary last month inside of a box he made and inscribed himself.

Last night wasn't all about me, though. This has been such a hard and heavy few weeks for so many people that I know and love, and a lot of us are having trouble remembering to shine right now. So I'm holding the light.

For myself, and for all of you, too.

Let it shine. Let it shine. Let it shine.

Monday, November 14, 2016


My backyard is hazy and smells like a long burning campfire, smoke from the fires blazing in the nearby mountains is shrouding the area and making it unwise to be outside. 2,200 acres are ablaze just about 45 miles north of me, and beyond that, there are even larger patches of land caught up in wildfire. And while it's terrifying, there is good that comes from the burning of the forest. New life that springs up from the ashes.

 And so it is, that on a day I've been preoccupied with the decimation and the cycles of destruction, death, and rebirth that I came full circle back to blogging. And, as old friends will no doubt notice, a revival of the old blog name.

It's hard to put in to words why I left it and why I came back to it, but I'll try. Because while it doesn't require explanation, it is important to me.

When I shed the old name, I was in a place of tremendous transition. Having just become a mother, battling the fucking demons that are post-partum depression and anxiety, trying to narrow down my creative endeavors in to a polished shiny business, and trying to reclaim some semblance of intimacy and privacy with my readers now that I have this little life to tend to.

There's a lot in a name, even a virtual one. And it seems to me that as I tried on and shed names, I was trying on and shedding labels for myself. I was lost for a bit, undeniably, and searching. And discovering. And what I learned is that shiny and polished isn't for me. I love what I love, and it's not easily marketable and to try to force it to be was stealing my joy in creating. Having a shiny polished name and streamlined creative focus spilled over in to my home life. I've been putting all sorts of things on to big ass pedestals and setting myself up for unhappiness and failure.

So today, on this super giant super moon day, I'm going to burn those towers that I built down. And start over, back at the beginning. I'm going to re-embrace the whimsy, the magic, and the simplicity of life, creativity, spirituality, and all the things.

And of course, because I've so missed writing, I'm going to start writing about any old damn thing again. In this new space that I haven't quite turned in to home yet, because I'm not much chuffed about the quantity of followers, so much as the quality.

I'm back, Witches. *cackle cackle* Make yourselves at home and I'll snazz the place up as life, and a 2 year old, allows. ;)

P.S. My old blog will remain up as an archive, and can be found here