Soap Flakes

Bran is a charming and gifted young artist who's a colleague of mine at the store where I work.  One of his numerous creative pursuits is a YouTube interview show called BathTub Bran.  He interviews local artists of different disciplines - many of them are dancers, because that's his background - and he interviews them in a bathtub. Yes, you've read that correctly, he and the interviewee sit in a bathtub full of suds.

Well, wouldn't you know, Bran asked me if I'd care to be interviewed.  Since bathtubs are one of my favourite places to relax and unwind, I said "yes" right away.  I also crave the attention (so what else is new?), and figured it couldn't do my non-career any harm.
Bran arrived at my home for the interview bearing gifts from the sponsors.  He had beer - always welcome - and some lovely bath products, which included a bar of hand made soap, a luscious bath bomb, and a candle.  All of them were scented with lavender.
If you're wondering why I mention such seemingly banal details about the gifts Bran bore, you aren't a regular reader, otherwise you'd know that almost nothing in my universe happens randomly.  The lavender-scented products Bran gave me fit my little world and web perfectly, because the soap and candles I regularly use at home are lavender-scented as well.  And don't try to tell me that it's just a coincidence, or not really strange because lavender is one of the most popular fragrances, and that I'm taking off again on one of my flaky, new-age, magical-thinking flights of fancy. Because you'd be wrong, and not in-tune enough to know that it's a sign!  Oh yes it is.  And consider this a big fat lavender-scented raspberry to any nay-sayers who disagree.
Anyway, sharing the tub with Bran was oodles of fun and having it recently posted on the Winter Solstice, which also coincided with a new moon (and the signs just keep on coming!) was the best solstice present I could receive.  I now have my fifteen-minus-ten minutes of fame.  I'm also delighted to add that Lulu, my inept but cute-as-a-button feline familiar, also makes an appearance in the interview.  And if she steals the show, I forgive her, because she takes after me.
So if you're interested in watching and hearing me, rather than just reading about me, or would like to see Bran's terrific YouTube site, click here...  (By the way, this is the first time I've ever used a link on this little web of mine, because I didn't know how.  Now I do.  I'm grateful to Bran for giving me a reason to learn another techno-tidbit of know-how in the wired world of social media and people under 12,000 days old.)
And while I'm here, let me wish all my faithful, fervid followers the happiest and most hyperbolic Season's Greetings, whatever festive season that is for you.
Blessed be.
- G.P.

No News is Good News

This morning I changed my routine on the web. (I refer to the world-wide-web, not the one you read now.) Instead of checking the weather forecast, reading a poem or two for the day, finding out how the stars will be configured tonight and learning about any astronomical events I probably won't be able to see, and then checking out some metaphysical correspondences with the physical ones I've just mentioned, (I love my signs!) I perused some news and current affairs sites.  I don't feel any smarter or well-informed, just depressed.  
That's all I had to say.
I think you get the picture.
Have a good day anyway.
- G. P. 
p.s.  Happy Hanukkah to Cheryl, Gael and Shlomo

Yech

Today is a black day for the soul.  In the material world this day is called Black Friday, when a deadly virus infects millions of willing victims.  I will not be infected because I have purposely immunized myself against the pernicious virus that is wantonly spread by carriers known as "shoppers."  The virus is called greed, a.k.a. consumerism.
This horrible affliction, which is actually celebrated on this day, began in the land to the south, and about five years ago made its way north to these here parts.  Unfortunately, I don't think it can be stopped.  And worse than that, I must work in a business called retail (gotta pay the rent!) that forces me to encourage the spread of the virus.  I forgot to book the day off in advance, and now I must participate in a pastime that is against my religion.  (That's the reason I would use if I'd remembered to request the day off.  If anyone asked me what religion that was, I'd probably reply with something like minimalism.  And why not?  After all, infected people religiously beat down the doors of retail outlets every year on this darkest of all days.)
There is a reactionary movement to this day that asks people to buy nothing; hence its name - Buy Nothing Day.  I've been marking that day for my entire adult life on the equivalent of Black Friday in this part of the world.  It's the day after Christmas and it's called Boxing Day.  I have already requested the day off, as I have every year, citing reasons already mentioned.
I'm worried I will come down with something today, but it won't be the insatiable urge to shop 'til I drop.  It will most likely be a combination of shattered nerves and despair for humanity.  Fortunately, at the end of what will no doubt be an interminably long, loud, frantic day, I will self-medicate by consuming a little too much wine.  Okay.  So I'm not perfect.  I'm going to consume today, too.  But it's my way of making the end of a dark day just a little brighter, for just a little while.
- G. P.

Milestones

I am 23,000 days old today.  I started to measure my life in days rather than years when I turned 22,000 days old, because 22 is my favourite number.  

I had a good run during my 22s.  I'm hoping for the same in my 23s, even though number 23 has never really had any special significance for me, until today that is.  
I'm creating my true self and measuring my progress day by day, rather than yearly.  Doing it daily keeps me focussed on the present instead of the future.  It's good to have goals and dreams, but now I detach myself from the outcome, and concentrate on the journey.  So here I go... one day at a time.
As for today, I'm having a good one.  I wish you the same.
Namaste.
- G.P.

Not for the Magically-Challenged

I like Halloween.  That's not such an unusual statement coming from an earth-worshipping, Goddess-loving, pagan writer and storyteller.  Or so it seems, because being all that could also mean that I don't like Halloween as it is celebrated these days.  But I appreciate the fact it's celebrated increasingly more every year, and by more people.  Of course there are a lot of adults (not so many children, I'm glad to say) who scoff and complain about the rampant consumerism and comidification of Halloween.  Most of the people who complain, however, have never seriously observed it at all and know nothing about its ancient pagan, sacred origins.  So it shouldn't really bother them that Halloween has become a cash cow for candy and costume retailers.  What holiday hasn't?  Christmas, of course, is the best example of that, because its serious religious significance is obvious to anyone of any faith, or lack thereof.

Halloween is a contraction for the words All Hallow's Eve, which is the Christianised name for Samhain Eve, the eve of the new year for the ancient Celts.  Therefore November 1st is Samhain proper, or New Year's Day, which was renamed All Saints Day by the church.
Halloween, for the vast majority of people who observe it, is a secular occasion.  (I hesitate to say holiday, because the word holiday, as in holy day, originally referred to days marking a religious event.  So the expression "secular holiday" is actually an oxymoron.)  Suffice it to say, very few people know or care about the historic, religious and cultural origins of Halloween, and yet more people than ever, of diverse religions and backgrounds, celebrate it every year.
When I was a child growing up in WASPy, newly-formed, open suburbs (it was a long time ago when there was some space between houses) nothing indicated that Halloween was happening until the very night, with a simple jack o' lantern placed on the porch to show that trick-or-treaters were welcome.  Nowadays the decorations are often quite elaborate, and are put up weeks before the special night.  I think that's okay.  After all, what's wrong with erecting a pseudo-graveyard on the front lawn?  Sure, it's silly, but it's fun, and could be construed as creative.  Though it may be tacky, it's still someone expressing themselves.  I don't see that as a problem.  The same goes for all the costumes.  I've observed people I usually consider dull and unimaginative don a mask or disguise of some sort and get into  the spirit of things for just one giddy, raucous night of make-believe.
It doesn't matter that they don't know that the costumes they wear were originally worn to conceal their human form.  It was a way of protecting mortals from the myriad spirits that crossed between the worlds on that most magical of nights.
Samhain Eve, and its spring counterpart, May Eve (April 30), were the two nights of the Celtic calendar when the veil between the worlds was at its finest, allowing for spirits to pass freely between this world and the Otherworld.  Hence the ghosts and goblins of Halloween, when the nights grow longer and colder.  By contrast, May Eve is a time when spirits of a lighter, more benign nature roam around, although they are still capable of great mischief and mayhem.  Spirits, whether light or dark, can trick or treat better than any mortal.  It's this rich and magical folklore I see when I watch the secularized Samhain celebrations on city streets.  Call me weird, but I much prefer large groups of people pretending to be scary and fierce to angry hordes engaged in street fights and riots.  Halloween is a unifying occasion for the many cultures and faiths represented in large, multicultural cities.  If it were seriously considered to be a religious holiday there wouldn't be the great numbers of revellers of diverse backgrounds dressing up and partying down.
Halloween is largely a North American festival, derived from the Samhain celebrations brought over by the early Irish and Scottish settlers.  The carving of pumpkins to make jack o' lanterns is one of the most

 ubiquitous and well-known of North American features of Halloween.  And it's another way that regular folk can be creative and express themselves. So what if Halloween is a diluted, popularized vestige of its former, Old World self?  That's what happens with time and adapting to a new land.  It's called change, and it's a part of life.
Halloween is a festival where people spend creative energy in "pretending" and leaving their ordinary, everyday selves behind.  For at least one night of the year they feel free to live in their imagination, and play like kids again.  So let the nay-sayers scoff all they want; they're missing out on all the fun. 
There are, however, and thanks be to Goddess, those who celebrate Halloween more seriously, by honouring the ancient, earth-based traditions of Samhain Eve.  They are the folk who follow the Old Ways, and conjure Magic all year 'round.  But present day Halloween is for everyone.  It has become a night when even Muggles* can make Magic.  And from what I've seen, they do, and have a blast doing it.   
So mote it be.
-G.P.
* non-witches and wizards, and other magically-challenged folk - from Harry Potter and Co.

Ordinary Miracles

The humble sparrow has been in my thoughts a lot lately.  No doubt that's because there has been a host of them in my backyard for a while.  I put up a bird feeder towards the end of last winter, and naturally it's attracted a lot of birds over the last several seasons.  A number of blue jays pay frequent visits, as do a pair of cardinals I've named Prince and Queenie.  I've also seen a couple of rose-breasted grosbeaks, a goldfinch or two, and even a Baltimore oriole drop by.  But the little brown jobs known as sparrows are certainly the most numerous.
The presence of so many sparrows gives me great joy.  I love watching all of them jockeying for one of the four perches on the feeder, or scratching about for seeds that have fallen to the ground.  Their constant chitter-chatter is soft, sweet music to my ears.  Recently they've become quite bold and hop about the patio directly adjacent to the feeder, perching and pooping all over the outdoor furniture.  I've also seen several fatally injured and dead sparrows on the streets in my neighbourhood of late.  On a more mundane, yet weirdly ironic level, a new upscale restaurant called Sparrow opened up in the 'hood early this past summer.  Unfortunately, it's not doing well at all, and looks as if it may be going the way of the aforementioned birds. 
The proliferation of sparrows in my life these days, real and symbolic, has left me wondering what it all means.  I need to know why and how they're connected to me.  Sparrows represent humility and the appreciation of the simple things in life.  Sparrow teaches us to accept ourselves as we are.  And the biggest lesson my new totem has taught me is that we all have our own special purpose, thanks to the joy I get from the ubiquity of sparrows that visit my backyard.  As I watch them through my study window it never occurs to me that they are the most common and ordinary of birds, because they make me smile.  What a gift.  If I feel that way about an unassuming little bird, I can surely feel that way about myself.

Although it saddens me to have seen dead and dying sparrows placed on my path of late, it's a reminder that these supposedly lowly creatures are very special to me now.  It reminds me that these small, seemingly insignificant birds truly matter, because they bring me precious moments of quiet joy.  I shall never underestimate the unique qualities of an ostensibly ordinary animal or person again - at least that's my hope.
Despite its diminutive size and plain colour, Sparrow has taught me an important lesson in humility.  I'm now able to see the abundance of small delights that fill my life, and for that I'm deeply grateful.
That's a lot of power for something so small.    
Blessed be.
- G.P. 

Now is a Good Time

The furnace in the house where I live was turned on today.  Autumn has truly arrived, both inside and out.

When people ask me how are you? I say very well, thank you.  And I am.  I still worry about our Earth, which is my true home, and I still shed tears thinking about the suffering and abuse of innocent animals.  (Not so much people, and don't bug me about it!)  I also feel guilty when I miss yoga practice, or don't give a needy street-person a small handout, or complain about one of the many things there are to complain about.  Sometimes I obsess about my aging, sagging body and skin-tone.  And I don't always keep abreast of the news, because it's usually more bad than good - really depressing in fact - which means I'm deliberately remaining ignorant of things well-informed, involved people are supposed to know.  But for all that, I'm really, truly well.  Better than I've been in a long time.  (I think that Grandma might have something to do with that - see previous blurb.  My yoga practice helps, too.)
The lingering feeling that I should be living an exciting, passionate, productive life doesn't bother me as much as it used to.  My life is pretty ordinary lately, and I'm okay with that, because currently I've got nothing to complain about compared to most of the people on the planet.
Old habits die hard, and replacing them with new ones - habits that benefit me rather than hurt me - is the most interesting thing happening in my life right now.  It takes up all my time, but doesn't interfere with whatever else I'm doing.  In fact, being fully present and aware makes everything I do easier.
I live in the present more than ever these days, and it's taken me almost 23,000 of them to get to this point.  But now that I'm getting the hang of it, whatever I'm going through - good, bad, or "formerly known as boring," doesn't seem so bad or boring at all, because I'm managing it in the moment.  Finally.

I am, by the standards I set for myself when I was young and stupid, living an "ordinary" life, and making an "ordinary" living.  But I'm learning to place the emphasis of that self-observation on living and life, rather than ordinary.  And being fully present endows a person with presence.  There's nothing ordinary about that.
The furnace in the house where I live was turned on today.  Autumn has truly arrived.  Observing that simple fact began this blurb.  A mundane bit of minutiae led me to muse on how rich and full an ordinary morning can be.  And right now, in this very moment, I feel the same way.
Blessed be.
- G. P.