Stay Tuned

I have to admit that I'm just a little bit disconnected from the non-magickal world. Nearly all my friends are Pagan and the ones that aren't actually are but haven't realized it yet. My family isn't Pagan, but they're Hispanic Roman Catholics so that's close enough, and they're very accepting of what they generally refer to as my bohemian eccentricities (this from people that think only sailors and prostitutes have tattoos). My life is very Pagan. It's not something that I do; it's who and what I am. So when confronted with "the real world, " I find myself at a loss from time to time.

Recently, I was seeing a man who is wholly not Pagan. Let's call him Nic. I thought the most difficult aspect of carrying on a relationship with someone of a different religion would be, well, the difference of opinion on what is deity, how to relate to deity, and how that plays out in our lives. You know, those little details about the nature of humankind, why we're here, why we suffer, what happens when we die, and so forth. It turned out that Nic is not particularly religious and although he has thoughts on all these points, none of it was a problem at the early stages of this relationship. We didn't last long enough to discover whether they would become problematic in time. Surprisingly, what did become an issue for us was my heightened sense of awareness and his lack thereof.

I don't think of myself as a particularly intuitive or empathetic person. I realize now that it's because I'm surrounded by intuitive and empathetic people. Next to Nic, however, I was like Tangina Barrons's personal assistant. There were many reasons Nic and I were attracted to each other, but one reason he became interested in me was my ability to tune into him. I could read him like an open book and, while that was fascinating to him and made him feel like we were connecting deeply, it also became increasingly uncomfortable as he felt more exposed and vulnerable so early into the relationship. This was tension for him.

Tension for me came in the form of Nic's inability to work through his issues. As a Pagan and a devotee of Kali, I'm all about working through my issues and the constancy of change and transformation. Nearly every ritual and spell I perform, if not for devotional purposes, is for self-improvement of some kind. Most Pagans I know are almost always working with their shadows. I don't want to paint cowans with a broad brush; I'm aware the self-help industry is booming, but there's generally a huge difference in perspective between Pagans and cowans about responsibility and where the power for transformation can come from.

Life has dealt Nic some blows, as it has all of us, but he is resigned to accept these and make them part of his identity. I prefer to work with them, releasing those that don't serve me, transforming others. I know I can't get rid of all my socialization and conditioning. I can't heal every single wound or erase the scars. I can't change my genetic makeup, astrological disposition, or past life carry over. But ultimately I am a conscious individual responsible for myself and what I bring to relationships and, quite frankly, too much baggage just weighs me down.

Nic and I are trying to be friends now, but even a platonic relationship is proving to be challenging. We almost speak different languages. It's bizarre having a non-Pagan friend.

Twilight Covening 2008

The clan list is up! Yay! I'm so excited. And they all look good. Hmmm, which one shall I apply for?

Lughnassadh

I celebrated Lughnassadh yesterday with my coven, extended Witchy family, and friends.

I helped plan the ritual with my HPS and it came together very easily. She thought of creating a Wicker Man and drew inspiration from a ritual of transformation from Rites of Spring 1982. Her idea had to do with banishing waste and I followed with the thought of releasing the things that no longer serve us.

At Imbolc, my coven set forth goals, both personal and for the group. By this time of the year, we know which goals have come to fruition, which are still seeding and maturing, and which ones we're just not going to get around to this year. Rather than being weighed down and feeling guilty over what we did not accomplish, I suggested we give them to the Wicker Man and release them. In general, however, participants could release anything they wanted -- goals, bad habits, connections, etc.

Once we had these two ideas, everything else fell into place easily. My coven already has a ritual structure that we're comfortable with and we don't really need to revisit it at every Sabbat and Esbat. We quickly decided to call upon Brigid and Lugh, who have been strongly present in our coven for some time now. For cakes and ale, we settled on beer bread and whiskey as well as milk for those who prefer a non-alcohol drink. The only real challenge was how to make the Wicker Man. We became committed to building him from materials already on hand. It didn't seem magickally consistent to buy new materials for a ritual on banishing waste. We brainstormed a couple of ideas and ended up using a cardboard box for a torso, wooden arms and legs, and a paper mache head. A burlap sack made an adequate robe, buttons for eyes and nose, a cut-out smile, and we gave him accessories like a cardboard crown and a wire bracelet. And yes, he was even anatomically correct. We left his head and body hollow and participants could place their offerings through his open, smiling mouth or the heart-shaped hole in his chest.

After the castings and invocations, I welcomed everyone to our ritual and invited people to give the Wicker Man their offerings and release whatever they wanted. We did a circle dance to raise energy and set him on fire. Then we went on to cakes and ale and closed up. It was a simple ritual, but effective and I think everyone enjoyed it. I was surprised at how easily and quickly the Wicker Man went up in flames. Then we ate, of course. We ate a lot. We're the most eatenest coven.

Towards the Dark

Happy Lughnassadh everybody!

As I type this, it is 92 degrees, feels like 94, and the humidity is 42%. August is our hottest month so the idea of a harvest lies only in my subconscious, something from a past life or in my blood come down from agrarian ancestors. I recall the harvest from my subconscious with my spirituality, with the rituals that mark the passing natural cycles both of the earth and of my being.

At Imbolc, I set forth goals for myself, and now at the time of the first harvest, it's time to revisit them. I'm pleasantly surprised to discover that many of ideas that I birthed just after Yule and nurtured through Imbolc blossomed through Ostara and Beltaine. By the time Midsummer came around, I was enjoying the fruits of my labor. I didn't accomplish everything on my list, however, but I'm not going to beat myself up about it. I'm going to take those goals and projects that I didn't quite get around to and release them. I'm going to give them to the Wicker Man and he will take them with him.

Even though it's bright outside and the scorching sun is beating down, Midsummer has passed and we are heading into the dark time of the year. At this time of year, my work shifts from something that is largely external and active to something more internal and reflective. It works out well because the latter part of the year is hectic anyway with more birthdays, school, longer working hours, and the chaos of the holidays. There's also a shift in family dynamics. I spend more time with family members during the latter part of the year and, with Samhain at the height of dark time, I can't help but think of my ancestors. I don't know much about them. I have almost no photos or records nor do I have access to anything that might be in Cuba. I've always been curious about my roots. For about a year, I've been thinking about participating in National Geographic's Genographic Project. I finally ordered the kit today.

The Genographic Project seeks to chart the migratory history of the human species. The results of a simple DNA test reveal your deep ancestry along a single line of direct descent (maternal, in my case) and show the migration paths they followed thousands of years ago. The results also place you on a particular branch of the human family tree. I should get the results in about eight weeks, just in time for Samhain.

Great Waters

One of the goals I set at Imbolc was to participate in the Miami Dade Sea Turtle Nesting and Relocation Program.

I've loved turtles since I was a kid. My first pet was a turtle and I had several over the years, and have considered Turtle one of my two totem animals (Snake being the other). When I was in high school, I went to the beach with some of my teachers/friends to spend the night and watch the female sea turtles come in to lay their eggs. We all fell asleep, but when we woke the next morning, we were surrounded by mounds of eggs. Soon a team of folks from Parks and Recreation came by and marked the mounds with orange flags. Another team would follow to carefully dig up the eggs and relocate them to special fenced nurseries where they can be protected from beach traffic.

My teacher/friend convinced one of the rangers to take us to the private beach. We arrived to discover dozens of broken eggs and dead hatchlings. They had already fallen to prey to larger animals. Sea turtles deposit between 80-180 eggs in their nests, but only one out of 1000 hatchlings will reach maturity. They have a lot of natural predators, but all species of sea turtles are endangered largely due to poaching, bycatch, and beach development.

It was very sad to see all those baby turtles dead along the beach, but as we walked through them we discovered some survivors. I took one in my hand, so small and fragile with its soft shell, and that was a very magical moment. I put it down on the sand and watched it head for the sea. Sea turtles have extremely good eyesight in water but are shortsighted on land, and hatchlings find their way to the ocean by crawling towards the brightest horizon. Unfortunately they often become disoriented on developed stretches of coastline where bright lights cause them to crawl away from the water, usually towards a road.

I stood on the beach quietly watching my little hatchling proceed into the open ocean, to be borne on oceanic currents that it has no control over. It was frustrating, comedic, and endearing to watch the baby turtle go into the water only to be pushed back onto the sand by the waves over and over. Eventually, the hatchilng made it out and I'd like to think that it found some unanchored piece of seaweed to float on and survive. I'd like to think that little hatchling will live its full 80 years.

Each summer, April to September, Florida beaches host the largest gathering of nesting sea turtles in the U.S. Volunteers can participate in turtle releases during the height of the hatching season. It's a popular program that doesn't last long and gets booked up fast so I was really excited about going last night. Unfortunately, it stormed last night. We drove to Crandon Park, but never made it to the Nature Center. I'm going to try to reschedule.

I did, however, take a few minutes to go to the shore and make an offering to Yemaya of white flowers and molasses. I didn't care that it was raining hard and that, as my somewhat neurotic, 12-year-old niece warned, I could be struck by lightning. The last couple of times that I visited Yemaya, I asked her for something and she has delivered in a way I could never imagine. It has been painful and beautiful and everything I've wanted.

Receiving the Warriors

Yesterday I received los Guerreros, the initiation of the Warriors, in Santeria. I don't feel like I should reveal everything about it, but here is some, including the animal sacrifice.

The Warriors are Eleggua, Ochosi, and Ogun. Eleggua rules the doors, opening and closing them, and serves as the messenger of the orisha. He is represented in several ways including a cement head with cowrie shells for features, a coconut, and a consecrated stone. In my case, he is represented by a beautiful piece of coral. Padrino (godfather, my male sponsor into the religion) determines what kind of Eleggua I should receive. I'm not sure what the significance of the coral is yet, but I think it might be related to that fact that I was advised to receive Olokun, the orisha that rules the ocean depths, and that I have some connection to Yemaya.

Ochosi and Ogun are received inside a black cauldron which holds their implements. Ogun is the divine ironworker who rules over work and human effort. He is represented by working tools: a rake, a pick, a spade, a hammer, a chisel, a machete, a shovel, and an anvil. Ochosi is the divine hunter represented by a crossbow. Padrino added to the contents. A fourth orisha is received with the Warriors, Osun, represented by the metal cup topped by a rooster and fringed with little bells. I don't know much about Osun, but in a way he represents the initiate, and if that cup falls, it predicts misfortune.

I was instructed to wear white and arrive at Padrino's house around noon. After some chit chat, coffee, and Cuban pastries, we began. I went outside with him to cleanse myself with a liquid mixture that looks disgusting, but it's actually cool, clear, and fragrant.

Back indoors, I stood in front of Padrino as cleansed me with a live chick. Then he quickly snapped its head off and let the blood spill onto the items. He repeated the process with a pigeon and a rooster. I was given the option of leaving the room for the killings, but chose to stay and watch. I can do and take a lot so long as I surrender myself to it and not think about it too much. Surprisingly, I wasn't that disturbed by the killings; it happened quickly and it was a relatively clean process. Although there is a stench, it's not like the blood splatters everywhere like in the movies. I was more bothered watching Padrino handle the animals, gripping them tightly as they noisily struggled to get free while he cleansed me.

After some cleanup, the final step was to ask them all -- Eleggua, Ogun, Ochosi, and Osun -- if everything had gone well, if they accepted everything and me, and if they were pleased. This divination is done with a coconut that has been cut to obtain four equal pieces. Yes/no questions are asked and the answer is determined depending on how they fall. I received all good signs.

I didn't ask any questions. Technically the ceremony is not over. My Warriors will remain at Padrino's house the rest of the week to settle in. He will clean them up and present them to me in a short ritual next weekend. I will have a lot of questions then.

Overall, I feel good about the experience. It wasn't the most powerful ceremony I've undergone, but it was definitely special and, by the time it was over, I felt that my coral rock wasn't just a coral rock; everything was alive, and I felt happy and welcomed.

Review: The Orphanage

I am not a fan of torture horror, movies like Saw that frighten by assault and leave little to the imagination. I was pleasantly surprised that although The Orphanage (2007) is one of those films that can easily descend into cliche shock and horror, instead it's a movie that knows the difference between surprise and suspense, and how much scarier it is to wait for something sometimes than it is to experience it.

The movie centers on Laura, who as a young girl was raised in the orphanage until she was adopted. Thirty years later, she returns with her husband Carlos and son Simon to buy the old orphanage and run it as a home for sick or disabled children. She has memories here, mostly happy she believes, but pretty soon her son's imaginary friends lead her to wonder what happened to the playmates she left behind.

The Orphanage is a Spanish production directed by Juan Antonio Bayona and produced by Guillermo de Toro of Pan's Labyrinth. Like that film, the line between reality and fantasy is blurred. We experience the entire film through Laura, seeing what she sees, and we're tense and fearful with her. The Orphanage isn't so much a shocker as it is an experiment in anxiety. It's an elegant film that takes its time, creates atmosphere, and viewers with a developed attention span will be rewarded. Many Pagans will no doubt appreciate the film's perspective on life and death and the veil that lies between them.

The Orphanage is in Spanish and is rated R.