Artifice

Posted on by myownashram

Earlier this week I went hiking with my kids. We went to the Watershed park in town. Olympia is chock full of parks and I’m enjoying exploring them. The forest reminded me of SE Alaska, only slightly more tame, open and safe. Many of the plant species were familiar, though the underbrush wasn’t as dense and more light was able to enter in. I was able to show my son two of my favorite plants, skunk cabbage and devil’s club.

 

Skunk cabbage is a bright cheery plant that grows in bogs. It loves the wet and murky, and thrives in wet lands. Its name comes from its scent: it smells mildly of skunk. On hot days in areas with a lot of skunk cabbage the smell can be overwhelming. I don’t know if it’s the smell that I like so much, its cheery burst of color in a generally green and brown landscape, or that I can identify it that makes me so fond of it!

 

 

Devil’s Club

 

Devil’s club is a tall and spiky plant. I associate this so strongly with my up bringing in South East Alaska. It’s everywhere there! The thick stalks have large spikes on them, but the wide (many hand spans across) leaves have fine, little barbs underneath as well. It grows red berries.

I have read that this plant is useful for traditional medicine, though I’ve never tried it. This is a plant to avoid at all costs. The author of page that I took this picture from says how afraid s/he was of this plant. I have grown up around this plant and while you don’t want to fall into a devil’s club patch (the spikes hurt and cause itching, redness, swelling, and I’ve heard, infection) or get whacked with it, I’ve never had any problems with it. It’s been kind to me. Perhaps it’s the mutual respect.

Contrast this park with my back garden (here is where a picture would be helpful, sigh). I love my back garden: it’s beautiful, peaceful, friendly, colorful, and full of good vibes. But it’s not wild. In fact, it’s dominated by non-native species. I know for sure that the ivy covering the fence and the bamboo alongside the house are not native. I’m guessing the pear trees, lilacs, and other plants aren’t either. The land lord loves to garden and he takes special care of our grounds. But I notice this creates a distinct difference between the wild wood and our garden. I notice that not too many birds visit us either. They seem to keep to the neighbors’ yards.

I hadn’t realized that last point, about the birds until only recently. I’ve been doing my sitting practice outside in the mornings (we’ve had 10 days of sun, but the sky is turning). I’ve been trying to spend as much time outside just being and listening as I can. I want to observe, feel, listen. Yesterday morning I noticed about 5 or 6 different types of bird calls while sitting. But only one came from my yard.

At snack time, the kids were outside with a plate of leftover sausage. I was just inside the back door and they came in to see me. The back door was open and the plate in a direct line of sight. A raven flew down and snatched a piece of sausage, dancing around to get it firmly in its beak. It looked at us with its sideways glance and then flew off. A few minutes later it landed again, this time on the back of the lawn chair. It checked us out, then hopped – one, two, three hops – to the plate, poked around, and took another piece of sausage. It looked at us again, I bowed, and then it flew off.

At first I thought it might be a large crow, but its sharp, curved beak gave it away.

I love these ‘intrusions’ of the wild. I love seeing the spiders weave their webs in the trees. I enjoy the sugar ants attempting their parade to my daughter’s chair (where all the good stuff falls!). I love the early mornings and all the bird sounds – before the hum of traffic from the street just one building away drowns out the quieter, smaller birds, and rustling of leaves.

It’s hard to connect in a deep way with this place and land, with the cacophony of man-made  noises, the bright lights of the neighbor’s porch light eternally on, with tame (and not so tame) cats stalking the wee creatures, and with my children demanding that I watch and attend.  But each effort to connect makes the next effort easier.

Here is my morning prayer: that my eyes would be open to see, that my ears would be open to hear, that my heart would be open to understanding, that my garden would be a blessing for all living beings.

Be overcome by justice

Posted on by myownashram

Delphic maxim number five is: Be overcome by justice (Ηττω υπο δικαιου).

The phrasing of this one stops me in my tracks. How in the world are we to be overcome by justice? Overcome is a word that I associate with overwhelmed; be overwhelmed by justice. Be completely covered in justice. Be brought to your knees by justice. Just what does that mean?

I can see how culturally, socially, institutionally we as an entity could stand to be overcome by justice. But what does this look like as an individual?

Justice means fair, right, reasonable, equable. Don’t I already practice those things? I try. But am I overcome by justice? What would it look like if I was?

Justice, from the Victorian Tarot

This is a post filled more with questions than insights. I’d like to think I’m practicing justice – social, legal, environmental – as much as I am able. But I doubt that I am overcome. This post is a good reminder to think more on what this means and how I can be act as a force for justice in this world, act for what is right, reasonable, fair, and all things equitable.

What does this maxim mean to you?

Watching and learning

Posted on by myownashram

My children are nearly four (in ten days) and 15 months. My son went through a period where he was fascinated with my prayers and devotions, and now he really isn’t all that interested. Occasionally he wants to join in. Mostly he just wants my attention.

Baby girl is entering that age where she is watching and learning and repeating what we do. She is as good as her brother was about not touching items on the altar. We have four altars around the house: my big one in my office, the family altar in the alcove, my husband’s downstairs in his office, and the outdoor one, where I’ve been doing most of my devotions and sitting these days. Sometimes baby girl will come and sit my lap when I’m meditating (she only lasts about 60 seconds), she wants to blow the candles out, she claps her hands and bows.

On Friday the kids and I and our friends went to Yashiro Japanese Garden. It is small, but beautiful. The koi pond is murky, but the kids loved it. I love the aesthetic of Japanese gardens. In the corner a pagoda-style statue with the Buddha in meditation stands in a shady corner. Some one had placed flowers and pine cones as offerings.

Buddha offering

 

The little one kept trying to pick up the flowers and give them to the Buddha. She knows what’s up. Watching my children learn religious respect and basic knowledge of a variety of traditions makes my heart happy.

Reaching out

My Place quarter has turned into one of rest and simplicity – mostly going to parks and listening to the wind in the trees, smelling the scents on the air, and listening to the birds and sounds of the city. It is profoundly peaceful. My kids are part of that.

 

(photos by the incomparable Rebecka at Everyday Life Magic)

Respect your parents

Posted on by myownashram

It is appropriate that this maxim comes up in time for Mother’s Day. This is an idea that is central to just about every tradition I’ve ever heard of. It either comes across as honor your parents, or respect your elders. Contrary to what my behaviour suggested between the ages of 11-14 and 19-25, this is a maxim that I’ve taken very much to heart. (I’m sorry, Mum.)

Now that I’m a parent myself I see that it’s doubly important to respect my parents because if I don’t do that how can I expect my kids to respect me? I also know that I need to be worthy of that respect. As a spiritual value, I think that, no matter our backgrounds with our parents, getting right with them, or coming to terms with our upbringing, gives us a foundation on which to build healthy relationships with others: partners, children, lovers, friends, the gods, everything and everyone.

As a more specifically Pagan spiritual value, I think this maxim is especially important in traditions that honor the Ancestors and Mighty Dead. How can we honor the ancestors if we do not work to honor our parents? As Star Foster suggests in her post, “If you can’t call your parents and/or spend time with them, for whatever reason, then perhaps you can make a regular habit of pouring a libation or lighting a candle to be thankful for your life and that you survived to adulthood.” This puts parents in their respected role of ancestors, for much ancestor devotion begins with a simple honoring: a libation offered, a candle lit in memory of, a thanksgiving whispered.

Happy mother’s day to all mother’s biological and chosen!

Worship the Gods

Posted on by myownashram

#3 in the Delphic Maxim series, inspired by Star Foster. Here is her post on the same topic.

This maxim makes me wonder what the difference between worship and devotion is. When I read or think the word ‘worship’ I immediately think of Christianity and the dynamic between the One Right and True Yahweh and us lowly humans. Devotion feels more intimate to me. I suspect I’m splitting hairs.

I’ll admit that I like this maxim, mainly because I already do it and it’s something that suits my personality. I want to engage in devotions. I want personal relationship with the gods, just as I love my family and am devoted to my partner and children.

I also connect devotion with offering. With my family I offer my time, energy, efforts, and highest self, along with food and service (what else would you consider laundry?). For the gods, I also offer my time, energy, abilities, and offerings of food, water, wine, incense, money, etc. Worship to me indicates awe and wonder, and those are no bad things either.

Whether this maxim implies devotion, I think we could all stand to have some un-ironic, sincere moments of awe and wonder in our lives. These days spring is in full force and I am spending a lot of time outside, mostly just listening. Awe and wonder and deep reverence wash over me as I watch my toddler sit under the lilac tree and play with blades of grass, or touch the flesh of spring salmon quivering in my pan, or feel the sun – which rises every single day – warm my pasty skin.

I may have obeying the laws down more by default, but worshipping the gods? It’s like I was born for it.