the voice from here and beyond
28 March 2007
Airplane Rambles on Initiation
Tues March 27, 10pm, somewhere over Oregon I believe…
Finding out today while reading that Isaac Bonewits had been a member of the early Church of Satan as a teenager was interesting to me, and left me wanting to ask him about his transition from that school to being a founder for ADF, etc. It also made me want to go back and transcribe my notes from his lecture I attended entitled “Varieties of Initiatory Experiences.” I had been hoping to see more examples or ties into other ordeal workers, but was disappointed to find out, in my own view, Bonewits group of druids are wimps when it comes to ordeals.
According to Bonewits’ breakdown, there are 3 major approaches to initiation:
1 = Initiation as an acknowledgement of status already received. Examples include graduation, ordination and bat/bat mitzvahs. The point here is to gather together community to recognize growth. Often these are time-bound, and seen as sen scaras (rites of passage).
2 = Initiation as an ordeal of transformation. Examples from Bonewits include learning how to swim, fasting, sleep, flogging, being tempted/exhausted, locked into a space, and vision quests. This may be augmented with drugs depending on cultural goals: to induce altered states of consciousness to be reimprinted, often death and rebirth being key to giving up or growing out of an old identity. Ordeals serve as a screening mechanism (only survivors survive initiation to join the tribe as full members), promote or force growth, and unusually unlike type of initiation 1, failure IS possible.
3 = Initiation as a method for transferring knowledge, power, or gnosis. Examples include transmission of gnosis, apostolic succession, and traditions that pass on from initiator to initiate in a variety of esoteric rituals. These initiations open one up to external source as used by a group/community, to be better connected to a deity, ancestors, psychic rewiring for the flavor of energy used by a group, and are thus given right to act or speak for deity/ancestors/etc.
The key to all of these is that RESPONSIBILITY, RIGHTS, and PRIVELEGES are all tied together. One can not receive true initiations and take only the priveleges of an initiation and not the other two.
Bonewits then went on to break down groups into a few different types that he had experience with (interestingly he skilled his history with LaVeys group) to speak about their initiation styles.
Neopagan: in Bonewits view, “Uncle Gerald” handed out titles quickly to build up numbers in the faith, and that the 1st initiation is unfailable, thus leading to “2nd degree sickness” in the witch community. There is a lot of speed initiation crunching.
Ancient/Modern Druidic into RDNA and ADF: when druids were a caste of society, children were initiated into the craft in type 1. MesoDruids however borrowed from Masons, and the reality is that modern druidis stuff can’t go back more than 200+ years. In RDNA (Reformed Druids of North America), initiations are less formal than Masonic paths, where 1st order= Nature is good; 2nd order= drinking whiskey and pronouncing how good nature is; 3rd order involves an all night vigil that is a formal ordeal. In ADF 1st circle initiation is a self dedication with an al night vigil.
What do you get from initiation?
Recognition for hard work
Ready to be tested, pushed forward
Close magical ties to a tradition
Role of Clergy in Initiation: If someone is competent as clergy/initiator, type 1 needs supervision of group ritual. Type 2 involves passing judgement to say if someone in fact succeeded in the ordeal (he doesn’t mention the option of deity informing whether the person has succeeded). How to tell if someone succeeded include- are they alive, not crazy, tell of a vision, and did they actually do the entire ritual/ordeal- it is important that all agree on the result if passed. Type 3 varies depending on culture/group.
How does initiation change initiator or witnesses? (he didn’t really answer)
What is the best way to council someone who fails an initiation (he told a really pathetic story in my opinion of a couple who, when one failed and one succeeded, proceeded to say that the priestess was unfair, etc- but Bonewits did not actually answer this question)
Self Dedication is NOT Self Initiation.
Rites of passage change your relationship to a community.
Time delay fuses are often in place on initiations- it may sink in or actually go into effect days later.
Building rites of passage and other rituals is an art form.
Who are we in relation to the rest of the pack?
That was the lecture, but the side stories about what Bonewits considered an ordeal… made me a bit sad. Apparently making someone lie in a shallow grave under an open sunny sky is really really hard. Apparently an all night vigil on a cool night wearing sandals, jeans and a flannel shirt contemplating the universe and your place in it is a deeply transformative ordeal. I suppose for some people it might be- but gosh, maybe I expect more from someone who wants to learn truths of the universe. Maybe I shouldn’t say such, because I recently had to do an ordeal of being silent in public for a day, at a huge event, and when I spoke of it later to a friend, he said “so what.” To me, a one day oath of silence was huge. For him, as a wall flower often times, it would not have been a big deal. Thus, truly challenging ordeals are important only if they are in fact an ordeal for the person in question. Hook suspensions are not a good example of an ordeal for a hook monkey, unless of course deity steps in and makes it an ordeal. In my case, when people have asked me if my hook hang for Mama Bear was an ordeal, I have to answer- kinda. Making some specific changes to my brain and life are far more of an ordeal than what I physically went through- which involved being taken up in the air 3 times whereupon I passed out and went astral journeying each time, then was lowered to the ground, returned to my body, meditated for a period, then went again. 3 times out, three gifts gained, 3 promises made. I would say it was a transformative journey, but would I call it an ordeal- certainly not in my view. Was it using ordealistic tools to push me past my physical blocks (such as my lack of ability to go astral by casual choice) a huge part of that commitment- yes. Could it even be seen as a moment of Gnostic transference- yes. So did I undergo an initiation under the hand of a fellow spirit worker, guided by spirits- not really. See above, dedication is not initiation, unless we take in divinatory initiation, being initiated by spirits, and the reality is that isn’t quite what I did either.
Just contemplating- ok, back to reading now.
12 February 2007
Back in San Jose…
I say that because I spent almost my whole weekend, except sleeping hours, at PantheaCon, which was not really anywhere or anyplace, it was a thing that hit somewhere between a ritual, a csi-fi-con, a life changing experince, an infomercial, and a way to touch god. My favorite print advertisement this weekend?
“Estalished 1902, OTO- Yes, we’re a Cult!”
Before I gow on to talk about the event I need to thank Yani and Gasper who housed me this weekend, even if they rarely saw me. They put up with a few points of wierd woo woo shit they didn’t understand, and were mostly graceful about it except the one time they weren’t, and so be it. It was still lovely.
So, let the describing begin.
Friday I was hyper-caffinated and had no sleep, but once I realized no one was giving me shit for using the mens room, I coped my shit together and headed to opening ritual. The person supposed to run the ritual was stuck on the east coast, so the event organizer stepped in to do one, and asked who the farthest away folks were. East was a kick ass guy from Hamburg who was with Ecclesia Antinoi who I got to know, along with the other Antinoi, pretty well via the LGBT suite and many drinks. When they asked who had come from furthest south and someone said LA, I asked if they wanted Home, or where you flew from today. They Said Home. I said Sydney. I took South. West was 10 miles away- ha!. North was a great guy from Central Canada. The Antinoi had no familiarity with genericc pagan ritual, so his was a follow along calling of East. I saw the energy in the room drop, so when South came I buckled on my performance voice and folks started screaming and hollering and it was great. I also in doing so got a chance to say “Hi, I’m a guy” sorta, which helped, and it came up in a few other panels, so by the time the weekend was over most folks got it, and hell, a great gaggle of fag boys were flirting with me.
I then headed off to Kenaz Filan’s class on The Posession Experience, which was interesting but not amazingly informative, except that the class piped in with some great questions and finally some info flowed. Then off to Basics of Sheilding with Estara T’shirai, and Ilearned very little “new”, but did come out with some great ways to rephrase the skillset for talking to others about it, and get to voice some ideas for not attacking psychic vampires. Dinner was random, and I got to wait in the line alone, and ended up being randomly paired up with one of the women who own Good Vibrations, how fabulous.
Morgan Felidae of the Gray School of Wizardry distinctly underimpressed me in her class “My Magic is Not Your Religion”, speaking about the sepration of faith and magical ability. GREAT idea. But instead of teaching, she literally read her essay on it, sometimes 2 pages at a time, and rarely really interacted with her audience… I almost fell asleep, and almost left, but the info was so good, I couldn’t. Thus, my opinion- read her stuff online, or read books, real life classes she pointed out are not her fortay. But her concepts were really interesting. At 9 I told myself I *would* go to LaSara Firefox’s class on Energetics of Attraction. The NLP concepts were fascinating, my partner for the class was lovely- I was falling asleep. S ohalf way through I excused myself, but yup, a few really interesting ideas.
Taxi, crash, sleep overtime. Woke up at 10am and Gasper was sweet enough to drive me in as the taxi was estimating 20+ minutes to pickup, and I would be late for Christopher Penczak’s “Invocation, Channeling and the Oracular Mysteries.” SOOOO glad I made it to this packed, closed door, class. Of ALL the teachers I saw this weekend, I have to say Christopher and Thorn (coming shortly) were by and far the most informative, energetic, and easy for a variety of levels to digest at their own frequency as it were. I shortly became a Penczak junkie, ok, not a bad one, but gosh he’s cute, smart, funny, knowledgeable, and fabulously queer. Anyway, the class was really informative and again, though I knew a lot of it, the stuff on the enlightened masters and astral courts was new to me, I’ve picked up that I need some more knowledge/training in ceremonial magic work, and more. His visualization was that we all have a door at the back of our scull/top of our spine, where if we do journeying work, we go out through that doorway. If you know how to go out through that doorway, chances are, you can learn how to let other things in through that same doorway. However, we need to gaurd that doorway so random shit doesn’t get in, thus he did a great guided meditation to find our personal gaurdian of that doorway, then step through. I started laughing out loud apparently during the visualization, after going through all of it and then you open the door and… MamaBear just looked at me and said “why are you wasting my time?” ok, not quite, but close, and her words were funnier but SO not in english, and I fell over laughing as she really isn’t usually funny, but gosh, ha ha ha.
After the lunch break (shopping/drooling), I headed off to Baba Esu Wemimo speak on Maintaining Good Charachter in Yoruba faith with the Orishas. Stunning presentation, though wow, he had the energy of one of those pyramid scheme guys. Then rush off to T. Thorn Coyle’s class on The Iron Pentacle. Other than getting seasick and having to reverse left and right (afterwards when I said this, she asked if home was south of the equator, I said, um, yeah… and she said that made sense then, most folks she knew from south of the equator had to flip left and right on the pentacle, and work widdershins), it was an amazing, invergerating, and really informative participatory lecture. Faerey magic stuff (not as in the flyin things, as in the work of Anderson), is really interesting to me.
I had gotten sick when reading the description for the Bennu-Kepher Lodge of the Golden Dawn’s ritual “Opening the Mouth of Khepri” and had a fucked up vision, so I had to go. Hm, curious. It was… ok. Lots of pontification, extreme ceremony, gold paint and hugging. But my mouth kept making scarab noises… hm.
Then off to “Creating Sacred Queer Community”- which rocked because there were a lot of folks there from Between the Worlds, the gay mens’ sprituality gathering in Ohio. Ea was a great speaker, like him a lot, and is funny over drinks too. Some interesting ideas shared around, then we all grabbed drinks up at the GLBT hospitality suite.
Then… all hail Discordia. I am a Pope. The Papal Innauguration and Wilson memorial was actually quite good, and during it I got to steal and hand the golden apple off to the hot genderfucker with full beard and a dress (a MUPpet, a follower of Mup) who I ended up spening quite a bit of time with. E was totally the prettiest. I ate pope guts.
Then back to the CLBT suite after a short stop to the Gren Faerie Absinthe Lounge. The GLBT suite was great, som fabulous flirting, intense coversations both magical and profane, and some damn hot people. At 4am after it turning into an 8 people left talking about gender and queerdom (a gay boy had asked Stacy in the dress what her story was), Stacy and I headed, lost, out to find er car, then e dropped me off at Gasper’s place after we got lost a few times.
Sunday morning, 3 hours of sleep later, I caught another cab and got there for Georgia Ann Hodnett do “You are a What?”, which revolved pretty much around her work with a few online groups and her demanding that Harry Benjamin Sydrome get more coverage in the US. I find the syndrome interesting, and need to read more, because it states that gender is hard wired in the brain and that male brains can be in female bodies and visa versa and that body changing is necessary because of gendered brains. Its really interesting, and I have no doubt it exists, but in pushing to accept the syndrome, what will happen to the rest of the gender radical, trans, or fucker folks? What of those of us who know many truths? I’m curious what the lines are for the syndrome, and how queerdom affects it…. must do more research.
I then went to see Donald Michael Kraig speek on Hypnosis that works, and gosh I’m glad he did. The history and application stuff was interesting, but his short mention of MK-Ultras techniques combining pain, pleasure, sleep dep, chemicals etc WITH hypnosis gave me a key into some of my history with hypnosis as an erotic tool that I hadn’t been able to verbalize. I would like to formally train in hypnotherapy at some point I think…
I had high hopes for Isaac Bonewits’ presentation on Varieties of Initiatory Experience, but I was dissapointed when he focussed almost entirely on modern wicca and druidic experience. However, his 3-step system of styles of initiation I found facinating (initiation as community acknowledgement, initiation as ordeal, initiation as passing on power/energy), even if I have decided that wiccan and modern druiding ordeals seem to be, well, pussy. I talked to someone outside later about varieties of ordeal work and their eyes went buggy. Hm.
I had had other plans, but then I went to The Sorcerer’s Initiation Ritual with Penczak, and I am glad I went. Some work happened in there, or at least started in there, that was important. By the end of the ritual I had painted my mouth shut, made a few deals other side, and yeah… can’t say more. Other than with my mouth painted shut it was part of no words til sunrise, that I fucked up on once and lost 8 things from the deal from saying 8 words. Power of words lil one, power of words.
In silence I went to dinner.
In silence I went to Taylor Ellwood’s lecture and guided work on Neurotransmitter Spirit Guides, IE how to do magic to effect your brain chemistry. Whether Hunter is aware of it or not, that boy has some great basic skills in this, and I want to but “Spirit Alchemy” for him so he can, gosh, apply his laying on shit to his own brain.
In silence I went to see Aupuni Iwi’ula of the Kamala Foundation speak on his work as a kahuna, and hawai’ian spirituality. I helped for no reason and put out energy and words for no reason on a pure slip during the purging ritual… so right afterwards I headed to go catch a cab, come back, read, do some more work a la the deal, then sleep.
Today has been packing. Laundry should arrive tomorrow.
So thats mostly what I got up to this weekend. Amazing outfits. I bought myself a small necklace. I found a sigil for some stuff Hunter and I had been talking about. I hit a few walls. I found some great ideas. I hope to do it again next year, maybe teaching next time.
12 February 2007
Cats, cuttings, and my Saturday ramblings
I am not a cat person. Ocassionally I serves as a petting bitch for the cats in the lives of my friends, but I am not a cat person. I like to feed them, pet them, then get out of the way of felines. But this weekend I think 10 people on my friends list posted pics of their cats or their friends cats- you will not convert me!
My mail server is down. No email. No idea if anyone’s writted since Saturday 2am. So if ya did, sorry. Means I’ll have to try to dig up my client’s phone number for tomorrow and call him to confirm instead of emailing, how annoying.
I am getting off my ass today and risking- been doing a lot of that as of late. Today’s risk- shooting a never met in person model. I have an odd track record, some great, some abysmal, on this subject… but we’ll see what happens.
This weekend was amazing, draining, amazing, horrid, painful, funny, and overall good. Saturday morning I picked up my medic bracelet from mi padre, then mi madre and I hit the pike place market for cheesecake. Off to the bus, more porn writing, more reading, grounding out into the road, and even a tiny nap. Rogue Spark, Coral’s boy, met me at the bus station which was lovely, and he and I headed off to Katrina’s to drop my bags and just chat- I love his brain, and the way he actually listens. I dug his drum stories. Then Coral showed up, and she beamed at having two boys to take care of her, and I melted. That woman has gifts I tell ya, even if she intimidates the hell out of me at times.
We headed off to Lulu’s, where I saw folks, people stumbled or didn’t over name stuff, and we set up to play- the plan had been a beating I needed, and then a cutting for some woo woo stuff that needed done, but thats not quite what happened at Lulu’s.
I play hard. Thats what I get told about my bottoming. But the reality is I’m a pussycat compared to how hard I feel I used to play as a bottom. The good ole’ days of the drop into shock and come back out all while still egtting fucked and cut and pierced (gosh I miss bottoming for mr. Throckmorton). But apparently I still play hard in the eyes of others. I got beaten. I needed to be beaten. I needed to be allowed to unabashadly scream and cry. We got an ok to do so… but apparently my screams of noooo while gurgling through my spit and asthma attack and tears carried too well through the concrete walls and insulation of the delicious dungeon space, and the party host asked if we could not scream- moaning, groaning and light screams ok, but what we were doing was not. Oh well. But yeah, that point on I ended up zoning instead, which was ok, but not what I needed- good thing I got in enough of what I needed before that point.
Coral says I am the only person she knows who falls up. She said she’d hit me til I fell. Well, I thought I’d fall, but nope, I’d go up instead of down, and then I’d go sideways into walls, but not a lot of down. Apparently i finally did, and Coral realized our nametags were on the bottom of her boot. Note to tops- If i scream out a body part, it means if you hit it again I think it will dislocate, or if I scream it out and hold it, I probably did dislocate it. I apparently forgot to mention it, sigh. But no major dislocations, so all good.
I was in a coma upstairs for a while and had to stop the urge to punch my other party hostess when she came up and squeezed my shoulder- fuck- did ya not pay attention to the last hour or two of me being beaten until I was turning shades of deep ocean? Thanks for the bruise squeezing, not (sorry, just saw borat).
But around the same time we were not asked to scream (gods Coral is pretty throwing punches and going deep sadist), Coral also got a hit of bad juju coming into the space, and I felt it go off too. If we were going to be doing a bloodletting for ritual work for a magical object that’s being forged for me, this was no longer the place to do it. She called RogueSpark and he came to pick us up, and I cried in the car while no one watched. Then off to his place where I told her about what needed done, and she started doodling in crayons on paper, and I fell over with laughter as she presented the amazing sketch and I pointed out the horns on the bottom, jutting up from the lava, and couldn’t help it.
She set down blankets, RogueSpark set down towels, we cleaned the area and cleansed our space and RS and I chose music- all stuff from when I was last in Hawai’i. Or within that year or so. Placebo. Red Hot Chili Peppers. The Cure. And the opening song- Milla Jovavich’s “The Centleman Who Fell.” It still reminds me of Ukpyr.
The cutting is on my mid-right thigh, of a volcano pouring water down into the ocean, running over objects in its way, but capturing pain and fear in its path and holding them for future generations to find, or not. The lava hits the waves and splashes back in the shape of horns. Above the lava flow at the top of the volcano is an eye looking down, crying lava tears, and to the other side from the tears, flying around the volcano, are 7 birds, 7 sisters, watching on… one far away.
I grunted and did not move. I had to set an example of what I needed from them. I did not move and grunted and felt her come to the surface, shake her mane and go back inside to watch the show as she felt the pain. I did not scream. I threw my head back. It has been so long since I got cut for more than an inch or so… I only do it for ritual work of some sort. Cutting is not play for me, never really has been, even when I was a cutter as a kid. My cuts on my upper inner left arm track the times I was raped. The cutting Greenman did twice on my upper outside left arm follow that last line out, tarnsform it into the lines of a 13 path labrynth, one cutting for emotional healing and one for physical healing after a car crash. My cuts under my breasts are for my blood dolls. My cuts on my inner upper right leg are about lonliness and a push to not be there any more, 12-13 years later. I want to have gills cut into my sides post chest surgery, and they will be about many other things as well. I do not grok cutting for pleasure as a bottom. I do not do it lightly. Even when I cut others, it is one of the most intensely personal and ritual things I can do in my bdsm arsenal. My battery should know.
Afterwards we did 3 blood prints- one for the fire, one for my alter, and one for Coral’s. Th efirst print, all of the bandages, the 2nd blade (the first got thrown in the sharps container before we considered it), and all of the bloody towels were packaged up so I could send it to Winter later this week. While Coral tried to ground back out from the electricity and fire in the air, Rogue bandaged up my leg and then he froze. Metal stuck between Water and Fire, he was alive with energy and was immobilized.
Its interesting, when in my 25% modality, where I have spent most of the past 10 years, I was proclaimed breath queen… air. Other side of the pendulum I feel fire in my fingertips, and too much work sends me frozen, inner fire spent. I ground out, neutral, underwater. I find peace in trash and concrete, city spirits who get it, and through whose arms i have understood nothingness and bliss. Hm.
I slept hard and short Saturday night at Katrina’s.
22 January 2007
Pagan Clergy at Large
I was going back through some of my notes from Keepers Crossing, mentally pre-prepping for visiting Cauldron Farm and gettingr eady for PantheaCon. I came across a list of concepts for different roles that individuals can serve in the community. I felt it needed shared.
Chaplian
Priest/ess (running group/admin/rituals, community accessable)
Pastor (outreach to community outside)
Clergy (outrach to fellow pagans, teaching, home visits)
Shaman (god spoken/ridden)
Lore Masters
Bards
Craftspersons
Midwives
Witch/Warlock
Will workers (Thaumaturgy)
Spirit Workers (Umbrella Term)
Mystics
Why is this important? It seems like, in the pagan community espeicially, and the sacred sex community even more, there are SO many of us trying to fill all of these hats. The main reason for a lot of this is because there are just not enough folks willing and able to be anything other than layfolk in the community, and so the Priestess who should be focussing on making amazing group rituals and keeping the admin of a coven running finds herself also serving as clergy to other pagans outside her coven, speaking to gods, keeping the community and mythic lore, training apprentices, and also being the coven craftsperson for props. Its draining, on top of a day job and family roles, plus *gasp* having a life.
I think this applys to the kink community as well. I think too many of us feel like we have to wear too many hats, but the reality is that most folks are just not good at everything. For example, though I can schmooze and network like a madman, I am just not good at juggling community politics, and should not be in charge of running events over 50 people where I have to worry about that stuff too much. To paraphrase my friend Shay- “Why the fuck do I have to be a Bondage Master, I’m an amazing Single Tail top, that is what I have a great friend named Joe for”
So its something to consider. Iff you are a pagan layperson, what skills do you have that could lead to a better community at large? Lorekeeper? Craftsperson? Outreach? Mystical Reading work? Finding a venue?
The terms above are not cast in stone, but they are a place to start for me to consider my own terms, and perhaps for you to do so as well.
I am also considering these things as for the second time in my life I have been asked to Priest/ess for someone’s handfasting, and I am contemplating my role in the public pagan community at large. In the past 6 years I’ve led a number of large public rituals at events like GoddesSMack and Dark Odyssey, but seem to have stepped away from doing so in non-sexualy open contexts. I find this interesting given my initial involvement 13+ years ago with CUUPS (Covenant of Unitarian Universalist Pagans), and as I debate presenting my Invocations/Evocations class at Goddess Gallery in Portland (talked with the owner about using the venue, and he is game, thanks Coral). Where do I fit in the public pagan community? Outsider, or insider bringing the voice of a thosuand voices to those who might not hear them otherwise? Just considering…
31 October 2006
Meditation Ramblings
Last night, must say, Little Miss Sunshione- a total must see fucked up Americana movie- thank you Cub for dragging me out :) My trip home was good except for the last leg from Campsie station to the house.
I kind of like folks turning around and gawking
I am ok with folks slowing down driving , looking at me, asking if I am available for a date
I am wigged by but ok with folks stopping their cars and asking and keep asking
I flipped my shit being lost in Campsie (the street sign was literally turned the wrong way), having a Muslim gentleman stop his car (not usually an ethnic issue, but the “Cats in the street with meat” thing gets to me), get out of his car, come up behind me, try to put his hands on me and ask if I am good, am I looking for something, can he help, now, while not physically backing down…
I got home ok, but if wigged me.
Anyway, today I ended up having some good chats with Laura (L’Erotica looks to be ON, and the show is starting to look good… but:
Note to Ausies: If you are interested, I am seeking Circus Freaks to beat, strap-on fuck, laugh at and attack me on stage. Ideas: Bearded ladies, human lions, human ponies, clowns, tattood ladies, muscle men, giants, midgets, punks, freaks, etc- any interested parties should poke me with a stick and I can see about getting you in discount to L’erotica
But the hard/good thing today was doing some spiritual woo shit and ending up having a conversation that plunged me into a really deep meditative state to deal with some of my emotional stuff. I am still trying to cope with some of my revelations about funeral issues from Keepers Crossing, and how I feel about the ethics of all involved there…
Stop running
he screamed
burning bright
hands around my spine
shaking me like a rag doll
Stop running
i screamed
going cold
heart in my hands
shaking like a rag doll
children and body ethics dancing in a dream of languid sighs as my thighs open wide before a gulf and dotted lines are drawn in the flesh a fleshy dream that turns blue as ice cold as death and she stares back from the screen a distant memory.
A call shakes me awake.
A call keeps me silent.
Turn another page, another dollar, what’s your excuse?
I need to make a difference and help people.
I need to not lock myself away.
If I am to be my own freak, I need a cicus.
The debate is before us, waiting here, so lets brush through the rubble clean the streets and clear the air…
I’ll be at the Sly Fox tonight- I *may* do one number, hell, I could do 2 (I have 2 boy outfits with me, and music), but we’ll see how stuff evolves when I get there. Until then I’m hanging out in Newtown, debating gym memberships, grabbing dinner.
Between Heaven and Soil
She says that tears are rusting my old banner
flag of independence
freedom
seeking the makers of cloth sewn directly to my skin
walking between heaven and soil in velvet lace
chained to my goals
Crying in the night with nothing flowing
for what is sex
the sexes aren’t all that different
wimmon womyn women
all words same thing different context
speakers of peace and truth
who raise their bayonets into the belly gullet of the institution that birthed them
walking between heaven and soil with spoken words
unheard in a paranoid delusion
as daughter of a starving mouth who longed for kisses
Cheap fuck from a friend enemy family cousin of an acquaintance
never met the boy girl but hate the ideas they represent
her disappearance possible
I speak cynically of cresses and caresses in a smoky city
puffs drags drifting into an open sky
walking between heaven and soil and actually stopping
holding her in a stairwell I once feared
thinking of sleepless nights on balconies over the airport
thanking her for the use of the bed
no obligations to me
falling asleep in her arms
worrying of dreams of white powder and children in the forest
who are walking between heaven and soil.
17 July 2006
…and then I got the Goddess a beer…
ok, someone else got her beer, but I brought over the snacks and the wine…
Sunday morning I awoke after two hours of sleep at Gazer’s house to hop on a flight back home. My layover in Chicago left me with plenty of time to make it to Mass. Yup, once in a blue moon I still go to Mass, something I should probably tell mi padre, even if I don’t celebrate the eucharist because as I’m not a practicing Catholic I find it disrespectful. Father George McKenna did a lovely job speaking of the tribulations of Amos and speaking out to support our troops and praying for a call to war around the world. I was touched by his call towards finding a simpler life, as the loudspeakers at Midway called out for missing passengers. Lady of Loreto, patron saint of air travel.
Side note to catholic pagan crossover folks- Saturday is the Saints day for St. Mary Magdalene.
Back home my Furry One met me at the airport and we gathered bags and headed home with no drama, the first time no airport drama in… ages. I kept waiting for the other shoe to fall, but the reality is that so far in my day and a half home, everything has gone swimmingly and I am counting my blessings. We came home and changed, and headed out past Vancouver for Epagomenal days celebrations.
A piece about Egyptian Mythology. There were 360 days in the calendar, 5 seasons of 72 days. But Nut was pregnant and cursed not to give birth during the calendar year, so Geb gambled and won five extra days outside the calendar. Nut, after carrying her kiddos for 28 years in her womb, gave birth to five bouncing adults who came out ready to do their stuff. They are Osiris, Set, Isis and Nephthys. Horus was born in the same time of years many years later after Set and Osiris had their battle and Isis made the first dildo.
So The Epagomenal days are 5 days outside of the calendar year. They are also the Egyptian New Year. They are timed with the risisng of the star Sirius in the sky. In Egypt, this is a very different time of year to the NW, lattitude issues and all. Around here it is Early August, but the folks who decided to host the ritual ran it a few weeks early, so be it.
I don’t do stuff with Egyptian religion, not my pantheon. But my friend gift_of_isis had been cast as the living goddess, and the priestess for the rite was Isadorra Forrest who had officiated our wedding, and I’d been meaning to get involved in the local pagan community more- so I decided to go. I am really glad I did, even if I almost faded pre-ceremony from lack of sleep and long travel.
Folks had gone overboard on the penis theme- penis candy, cakes, pasta, ice cubed, phallic food galors, and ball-shaped food. Did I mention the first dildo thing? Osiris had been ripped into 14 pieces by Set and scattered to the corners of the world, but Isis found 13 pieces… all save Osiris’ phallus. She made a replacement out of mud of the nile and breathed fresh life into it and put it all together with her husband/brother’s other parts, and brought him back to life then fucked him silly. Yeah, some folks went overboard on the penis theme.
It was good getting to know some folks in the local Hermetic Society, and was glad to be part of the ritual. The default entrance chant? Osiris. Nephthys. Set. Isis. Horus. Who woulda thought ;) Lots of winding walking, and finally making it to the temple space where the five god/dess voices were waiting. Each read a good chunk of info about the god/dess they were working with… and I fell for Nephtis and Set. Wow. Yeah, I have been doing my chunk of ordeal work, and its taking me down some dark/left path stuff, including some demonic work with at least one specific gent… but the vocalization of the work of Set was really inspirational- the harshness of transformation, the brutality of the soul, the tough choices that need done and the honesty of the bleakness we each face. Nephthys, dark side of the moon, lady of truths between lines and dreams that are more than dreams. I ended up leaving offerings for both of them later on, and today ended up going looking for statuary of each, and upon failing got black tourmaline for my alter.
After the readings the Isis was brought out and her ladyship was invoked into the blue-clas Isis body form. Nile water down my chest and her lips on mine, blue petals washing down my tears. This was after I was hit by a feral growl and I walked away from the ritual just as Isis was coming in as it were- I got food and brought it forward for the vessel and its inhabitant. Yup, I do decent service, and yet again I went into service role as soon as a God/dess was present. Just wired that way. Something bigger than a breadbox makes its presence known and i want it to be comfty and not to invoke wrath… thus wine, choclate, dried fruit, and lots of music are called for and I kept helping it coming to her ladyship and the attendees. As soon as SHE left the building, as it were, my service brain switched off and I was back to being tired and thirsty. The joy of being bound… I speak of it tongue in cheek, but it is true, it is an honor and a joy.
Back home Furry tucked me in and we ended up playing, hard… and I’m still shaken up. Its been a while, and I’d almost written it off, oh me of little faith. What it took? The little things- acknowledging me as all of me even if you won’t play with all of me. Researching hermaphrodieties in egyptian mythology (Maat engorged, triple vultures), saying to folks that when not a lot of men showed up that obvoiusly I had shown up in the wrong clothes if they needed guys, etc…
It is the little things like that that put me in a good space.
At Midway a vendor called me Sir. It is the little things that make me feel good.
I am masculine and feminine, male and female. In acknowledging and laughing about both with me, and then still calling me his good girl, I melted and came like a fountain.
Today after hitting the bank I walked home, stopping to pick up essential oils and black tourmaline. Then the Furry One and I watched TV together, me having cleaned a lot and unpacked. It is- good.
So much work to do, so many projects to tackle, but I need to be- this. I need to be domestic. I went on a ledge emotionally today and bought myself my first chest compacting shirts online, I have no idea how I’ll like them and if this a good idea or a bad one for my chest dysphoria issues… but I need to find out.
Blessed be.
The following is a step by step guide to finding a place of peace beyond the land of Xara. This was where I haiked to on Friday morning of Xara… and I hope the photos share part of my journey with you.
Get to Xara, and dress to impress yourself. These two steps may be the trickiest for some of you, and for others like breathing in a breath of fresh air. For some of you it will be both and neither.
Beyond Pangea, where Drew Barrymore is the Devil, before reaching the sweat lodges, dodge left here the bedoiun lesbians raise their young.
Take the right handed path
Say hello to those you pass along your journey
Cross around the gate to the right
Walk over the falling stone bridge over the entrance to Neverwhere
Rest after the first valley o clean your nails and drink more fluids.
At the jutted rock, head up the hill. Drop your pack and continue climbing up where the stone giantess sleeps on her side with a boulder between her thighs. Keep climbing until you can see all three valleys at once. Take stock of your life and breathe in the clean air.
On the way down, when you hear voices- wait. Wrapped in red show the way to two tribes of Israel who come before you seeking wisdom.
Wonder at the hawks abd overhead (not likely pink) airplanes.
Pass rocks lichened unto gods and locked caves.
Stop at the resort at the end of the universe and let the gods try to attack you as you tell the caretaker who you are and why you have come. Why have you come? She will grant you safe passage if you know your answer true.
Crawl under the gap in the barbed wire to the right 100 yards after leaving her compound.
Sit at the lake and enjoy lunch.
On the way home, hop the fence and give directions to Peter Pan’s Partner.
Say hello to the sun.
4 January 2006
Visions
This weekend, in a place between extreme passion and extreme pain, I walked between worlds.
The first vision SaytrPan laughed at, his other name, other face.
The second I wore with my own skin.
On the whole, DarkOdyssey was not an exciting event for me. In my two bondage classes I wanted to do so much more (but showing the inversion harness EmmaHui taught me was nice), and my switching class has so much potential. I attended a few good classes (Dr. Ferrer for example), and Raven Kaldera’s “Hermaphrodieties” class (based on his book, and visa versa) was amazingly well done in the bardic voice it carried. Talks with Raven, Joshua, Skian and crew were great. Teasing the hell out of Terry and Danny was great. Sucking in the new year was silly and fun, but not as fulfilling of a connection with that play partner as either of us would have liked. Support from BBJim, Sarah Sloane and Margo Eve can not be spoken highly enough of…
But the event itself was just- a big hotel event. I felt like the paganism was a brush stroke over the top- to qoute Raven when he spoke of much of American Tantra “A cheap excuse to fuck while listening to Indian Music.” It’s okay to just swing and do kink- but I guess the DO summer camp made me want more. Doing bondage in the sterility of a hotel conference room turns me off. No rituals, not a one, and Dan&damn and I snarked about it.
But the weekend was worth it all for DaddyD and SatyrPan. Cute Butch Bi Dyke energy with the soul of a gay leather Daddy, and her mythological creature of a mate.
Now, I don’t normally wax poetic on aesthetics, but this man deserves paintings.
Gorgeous inside and out, he is, however, a mythical creature. No one should (a) have a cock that large (b) be that athletic in it’s use (c) be multi-orgasmic (d) be able to fuck for that long continulously (e) be willing and able to take folks where they need to go sexually (f) be hot, bi, and in general an amazingly nice guy… thus, he must be a mythical creature. That’s okay, I’m happy to fuck a mythical creature. I’m happy to share stupid text messages with one.
DaddyD is one of the hottest souls I have met in a long time. I adore this wo/man. Wow.
They, near strangers (but we each came well recommended by the other from Strider), saw me through some bad emotional moments, fed me bacon, fucked me soundly, opened up their bed to me, and so much more. They amaze me inside and out. And they opened me up to my awareness again towards being able to recieve visions.
It’s hard to tell what is a vision and what is a seisure.
Does it really matter, when the message gets delivered?
And yes, Margo, tell Mim that I’m feeling about 25% better, but if it gets worse i’ll follow up.
I keep getting calls
to dedicate more of my life to my spirituality
My work as a healer
Try one life
at
a
time.
Fuck
I keep closing my eyes and feeling her in my spine.
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