My Experiences as a Dianic Wiccan

Because I feel like it's important to offer some personal experience as a Dianic, I dug through my archives and found two write ups for two of my rituals.  So far (and I'd love to be corrected) I haven't seen too much testimony from Dianics who aren't in agreement with Z. and also are in my general age group (early 30s) so I'd like to offer my experience to the discussion.


12/31/03
Our Sisters, Ourselves

We were in my tiny rabbit hole of an apartment. It was Lammas. My boyfriend had been sent out to play with his guy friends who good-naturedly decided to have a barbecue with the boys since we were doing our “girlie thing”. I made chicken tandori and everyone brought food to share. The Amethyst Circle of Sisters meets monthly on Friday nights so we always feast first to unwind from work or school. It gives us a chance to catch up from the last time we saw each other. It was my turn to priestess because I had taken up Lammas as an Amazon holiday. What better holiday to remind yourself that you have the strength to do things you did not think were possible? We sit in a circle in folding chairs, on cushions, on my couch. We cast the circle hand to hand and I sang pieces of modern songs (“Wings” by Katherine Moon [air] “The Hollow” by a Perfect Circle [fire] “Round Here” by Counting Crows [earth]“Ocean” by Dar Williams [water] and “Triple Goddess Chant” [Goddess]) to invite the elements and the Goddess into our circle. I lead everyone through a grounding meditation and then talked about the meaning of the holiday as I saw it (“I like Lammas. It's an old school kind of holiday with blood and love and redemption. It's the last huzzah before going back to work when the world is still magiksummer and anything could happen [and usually it does]. I've designated it an Amazon holiday for us because while we may individually be in different stages in our lives as maid, mother, or crone, it is the Amazon that ties us all together. When the Goddess slays the God, She does it because she knows she has to. She knows the consequence of her action if She does not. Do not think for a moment She did it because it was easy. We are all capable of doing what we have to do. We all have this kind of Goddess-strength within us. We are here tonight together in sisterhood to remind ourselves of this.”). I talk about Alix Olsen’s spoken word poem, “Daughter” where she talks about birthing herself into a homegrown daughter. I encourage everyone to write a letter to herself, as if we were our own mothers so we can take the opportunity to give ourselves whatever we need (advice, strength, courage, forgiveness) because as women we so often forget to do that. We take turns reading our letters to each other.

My letter:

“My dearest daughter,


I have waited so long for you.


It’s a harsh world out there. There is room for a lot of sadness and pain.


Never apologize for loving. Never apologize for being loved. You will grow up to be something special, something I am proud of. You have the seeds for greatness and failure.


You will do both.


People will still love you when you fail. They will love the imperfections as much as the perfections. Never apologize for living as you wanted. It’s much easier to live half asleep, apologizing for your existence.


Sisterhood is so painfully beautiful and life is too short to live without it. Tell people you love them because you won’t know when you can. Hug and kiss them and give as much as your heart wants to. Ask for more. You deserve for people to love you as much as you love them. You deserve the bright blessings bestowed on you so don’t waste them.


Sing.


You are beautiful and fierce the way you and sometimes people hurt you and forget to live their lives as honestly as you. You are not lesser for that. People will try to make you feel small and worthless because they forget the dream. Don’t forget the dream.


I lay forgiveness on your head. Forgiveness for the silence, forgiveness for loving too harshly, forgiveness for forgetting the dream, forgiveness for the ugliness, forgiveness for the self doubt, forgiveness for the self hate, hating this body that the Goddess blessed you.


Love. Love as much as you can.


Don’t be afraid of the pain and the grief. It is a wheel and the wheel can only turn with both sides . . .”

I had a bowl full of rosewater and herbs (lavender. Rose petals. Star Anise. Rosemary.) so we could bless ourselves after reading our letters. I dipped my fingers into the water and said, “I bless you, Lilith Maeve Crow. Thou art woman and thou art Goddess.” While we are in the sacred space of the Goddess we each have an opportunity for personal sharing. We talk about whatever is on our minds and our hearts while we are in this space of the Goddess. We laugh with our personal triumphs and cry about our losses. We hold each other and share the “sacred tissues”. We bless the bread and the juice and feed it to each other. We give the Goddess Benediction and open the circle.

We eat half melted Godiva ice cream smeared onto strawberries and finish catching up. I look around the room to my sisters. Some who are crones and have accomplished things that I can only hope to achieve in my blessedly short life time, some who are mothers who nurture their creative sides while still caring for their loved ones, some who are maidens younger than myself who are as poised as I wish I was when I was there age. And we are all here together in this shining space where it’s our women’s voices, our women’s dreams, our women’s breath, our women’s hopes. And I think, yes, this is what Robin meant when she said, sisterhood is powerful. Yes, this has changed my life. Yes, this has taught me about taking what I need and not being sorry about it. Yes, this has taught me about trusting women and trusting myself. Yes, this has taught me that I am Priestess, too. Yes, this has taught me the joy of women weaving magic together and the sacredness of women’s magic alone. Yes, this has taught me that when we lay hands on our sisters we can heal each other’s bodies and when we listen to each other, we can heal each other’s pain and when we speak we are no longer silent. And throughout history whenever it’s been about us, it’s made us dangerous. And we should be. We should be dangerous women. Because dangerous women get things done.

8/8/06
Amazon Body
I gathered up my herbs, holy water, candles, Goddess statue, incense, stones, and set out the ingredients for the corn bread we would be making together as an offering to The White Buffalo Woman. I couldn’t believe it was Lammas already. Had the year gone by so fast? It always does. Lammas is always my ritual in my Dianic circle. Years ago, before the fibro I had insisted on making it an Amazon holiday. My sisters were both enthusiastic and indulgent about the idea. So every year since, I put together a ritual to celebrate our Amazon spirits. My circle believes that we each go through the women’s mysteries and become in turn maid, mother, and crone. It’s the Amazon spirit shining inside of us that binds us together.

It made sense, though, to choose Lammas as our Amazon holiday. In many Goddess myths, Lammas is when the Goddess has to slay the God in order to fertilize the land. If she didn’t, we would all starve. I always found the Greek myth easiest to relate to, personally – the strong sad mother, the willful daughter, and the bad boy Demeter would never completely like, no matter how much baklava he brought her. Lammas is all about being an Amazon – a hardcore woman who will make the right decision, no matter how much it hurts. When no one knew what was wrong with me, all I could do was sleep and cry. I was so foggy that I couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t drive most of the time. Just could swallow pills that made me foggier than I was before. A lot of it is vague fragments of memories of that time – my worried mother, my long time boyfriend who couldn’t stand the strain of not knowing what was wrong with me, the vials and vials of blood they drew and the sugary donuts I would always eat afterwards. The point where I stopped caring about what was wrong with me, as long as they could give it a name.

Circle was one of my few refuges. My sisters would lay their hands on me and it would stop hurting, at least for a while. I thought, if I was so broken, what deity would want me? I didn’t know there were deities who collected broken girls like posies until we could become strong again. I didn’t know that to become Amazon strong, oftentimes one has to die first. And I did, on that table, staring at the ceiling while they took more vials of my blood from me. I didn’t stop breathing but I came to terms with the fact that my life was never going to be the same again for me, no matter what was wrong with me, too much had changed. I had learned the depths of strength and weakness I had hidden inside of me and like Eve, I couldn’t give it back even if I wanted to, it was far too late for that. And I would become strong again. And weak again too. Strong when I held my mother and told her I would be alright even though I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia two decades earlier than most women. Strong when I found what I needed to have in my life to love and be loved. Strong when I left my stupid corporate job that was making me sicker and weaker than I ever thought I could be and never looked back. Strong when I started to make my own way. Strong when I accepted my body. Strong when I accepted the love and support that I bathe in every day. Strong when I realized that I too like Alix Olsen believed in hardship and hard shit and no matter what happened, I would do what needed to be done. Like my mother. Like Demeter. Like my circle sisters. Like all the strong women in my life. And I learned to accept my weaknesses because only accepting strength is only accepting half of myself. Weak when I couldn’t get out of bed. Weak when I pushed myself far too hard. Weak when I hated my body for betraying me. Weak when I refused to accept help. Weak when I felt hopelessness and despair that I would never have the life I thought I needed to have. Weak when I felt angry that my condition had further deteroated.

I know I am an Amazon, every day with my condition it makes me conscious of everything I’m capable of, the big battles and the little battles. Sometimes brushing my hair is an awesome accomplishment. Sometimes spinning my dreams into reality is an awesome accomplishment. I’ve learned to appreciate both. And I’ll be thinking about the strong, beautiful Amazon spirit I have inside of me this Lammas when I am singing in the kitchen with my circle sisters and we do the magic that women do every day – being strong, being together, and turning flour into bread.

PantheaCon and Z. Budapest

I didn't comment last year because I wasn't present and felt that it wasn't really my place to say anything about Z.'s comments and actions towards the transgender community as I wasn't present and frankly I kept hoping she would do some soul searching and apologizing between last PCon and this PCon.  But reading accounts from several different parties, I feel I do need to say this.


I started my path in Paganism as a Dianic Wiccan and as a feminist.  While my path has broadened, Dianic Wicca is still an important part of my faith.  I agree with Thorn's comments about Mary Daly, and I often counsel younger (sometimes more impatient) feminists to understand that things were v. different in the second wave and that we need to try to bridge the gap of understanding between second/third wave.

That said, at the risk of sounding dramatic, Z. has broken my heart.  She was an important person in my religious and academic texts and I had read much of her writing, trying to give space and understanding for a difference in time, place and experience.  I was always able to bridge that gap until last year when she made those hurtful comments that she's never apologized for.

My Dianic coven does not discriminate based on "bits", we ask that the women attending be woman-identified.  I'm not sure that I agree with a cis-woman only space even as a cis woman but that's something I'm still personally reflecting on.

What I can't get past is her hurtful treatment of our trans-sisters.  As such, after much thought between last year and this year, I no longer consider Z. as one of my personal Dianic elders though I do acknowledge her work in the community and her personal struggles.

Resources if you would like to learn more:

Holding Beloved Community (Thorn Coyle)

Holding Beloved Community Part 2 (Thorn Coyle)

Lupa's Account of the Protest Held by Thorn (Lupa)

An Invitation to Remember Who We Are (Rabbit)

PantheaCon: Unity, Diversity and Controversy (Wild Hunt)

Dianic Rites, Gender Identification, and Gender Essentialism (Kenaz Filan)

Building a Dilettante

My approach to magic can at best be politely be called eccentric but there are a lot of sources that helped me get to where I am as a third wave riot girl hearth witch. Should you ever be curious about how I got here.

Reading List for the Dilettante Hearth Witch

Our Bodies, Ourselves - I'm not going to lie, it still appalls me how many women don't know their birth control options or how their bodies work or anything.

WomenSpirit Rising - Just blew my tiny brain open about religion and started me thinking about how to be a riot girl in religion.

The Gospel of Mary of Magdala: Jesus and the First Woman Apostle - This is When Shit Got Real for me as a Women's Studies major.

The Spiral Dance 20th Anniversary - Because you always remember your first, because she still updates it with new info and changes in philosophy. Also I'm mad at Z. and she knows why.

A Subscription to Real Simple - It's the perfect hearth witch mag imo - realistic recipes, how to clean just about anything, financial planning, realistic planners, gardening and essays about various real world stupid motherfucking problems. The real world guide to being a motherfucking adult.

Old Style Conjure Podcast - Oh man do I love me some Momma Starr, she just is the cat's pajamas. I'm going to butch this horribly but when someone essentially says on a hoodoo podcast, "But you don't just want him back, you want his money. So you're going to Bend Him Over in Jesus' name!" I'm going to love you forever.

White Wolf Mage: The Ascension Role Playing Game Books: Dreamspeakers, Cult of Ecstasy and Spirit Ways - As long as you understand that they are *fiction* for a *pretend role playing game*, they're helpful as they're well researched.

Animal Speak - a great primer on some basic Native American Shamanic concepts

Hoodoo Herb and Root Magic: A Materia Magica of African-American Conjure - Super helpful hoodoo reference book.

Compendium of Herbal Magick - Really helpful Euro magical herb compendium

Rules of the Game - teaches basic NLP techniques and I find it helpful in my glamoury work

Eat, Pray, Love - it really encapsulated my post divorce spiritual journey and helped me focus on what I'm trying to accomplish.

Evolutionary Witchcraft - This book really helped me come to terms with being a Reclaimist. The Iron Pentacle meditation has changed every group I've led it for, it's that amazing.

Rune Soup - Because magically speaking, Gordon really is my better half.

On Roots and Sincerity: It's where we come from you know/ and sometimes I want to go back

In the past few years, I've been so bogged down with getting divorced, buying a house, my sister's marriage and baby and now starting my own business, that my Dianic Wiccan circle was always the first thing to go on my schedule. Fridays would find me tired and run down, the stresses of the week culminated so that all I would want to do is order a pizza and drink wine and watch television. Besides, at this point I'm barely Wiccan anymore anyway, right?

During these years, without realizing it, I had become coated in a crisp cannoli shell. I started to prefer my own small hearth magics and became results driven and the intellectual side of magic - blogging and thinking with an occasional trip to my grove which is also filled with charming cynics like myself.

I had become cynical.

It seemed like a lifetime ago since I was that twenty year old girl who needed mentors and role models and to be accepted as she was, fuck ups and alternaness and all. I never knew the divine feminine until then and I never knew I could be take a religious leadership role. The Craft had come out, but Willow had not yet become a witch on Buffy yet and Charmed hadn't yet started. We were still taught the importance of to be silent because you could still find yourself in harm's way for being a witch.

Somewhere in my late twenties, when my marriage was falling apart, I started falling away from my Circle. I always went once or twice a year, kept in touch with my sisters and all, but what had once seemed shiny with the Divine Feminine and sister space and the Goddess is alive/ and magic is afoot started to seem . . .airy-fairy. Less serious, less scholarly. Less important. Something I had outgrown.

Yesterday there was to be a circle meeting and ritual, discussing our future. I felt obligated to go. After all, these women had had a hand in raising me, had contributed to who I became, had loved me and cared for me. But I also felt that familiar familial feeling of obligation and resentment. I didn't want to go. I wanted to stay home and drink wine and watch Gossip Girl.

But I went, grudgingly. My sisters hugged me tight, exclaiming over their prodigal daughter and I felt that all too familiar feeling I feel around my family, guilt for not being a better daughter.

We went over our circle's issues (running late has always been a big one to give an example) and I felt like we were all committed to making things more feasible for everyone and that we had refocused our group's intent.

We then did a simple handwashing ritual. And . . .I can't find the words to explain it, how it feels when we're on. When we're all focused and present and sharing sister space. How safe and calm it can feel, being protected in our little snowglobe between worlds. Womblike. Since starting the French Experiment, I've tried to focus more on appreciating simplicity, especially in daily life. There was something sacred as we went through the rites and then came to the hand washing. I've done that particular ritual before but . . .I think maybe I wasn't really able to appreciate it yet as a Maiden. I'm not sure why that is but while I thought it was pretty, it didn't resonate with me. I think as a Maiden I had a hard time sitting still and a hard time appreciating anything that didn't come in a martini glass or with an expensive price tag.

We used a beautiful silver ewer with a silver ladle with warmed rose and rain water. Each of us would wash the hands of the sister sitting to our left, thinking about what we loved about our sister and what she brought to circle. I don't know what M. was thinking when she washed my hands and dried them but it was really hard not to cry, I was just overcome by the love and the beauty of the gesture. My hands felt clean in a way that they haven't in a very long time. Clean hands, clean heart. When I washed D.'s hands, I thought about how gentle and kind she was and how she always knew the right thing to say and her music. It was just really powerful watching the other sisters' wash each others hands so carefully and kindly, a small gesture of love and care.

And I thought about how easy it is in our community to wrap ourselves in our intellect and our cynicism and talk about how the world is burning anyway, man so we should use our magic so we don't get screwed in the process and make sure we get everything we can. It's easier to make a sarcastic joke. I do it all the time.

It's hard for me to sit there with my squishy creamy insides hanging out, to be sincere and open and loving and kind without worrying about how I'll be preceived. Without turning away from it with a biting comment and a puff of a clove or sip of wine, but to just sit there and allow myself to be changed by it. It's. Really. Fucking. Hard. And I think that's why I keep turning away from it and away from my sisters because most days I'd rather be hard.

What I learned last night is that we need both, the hardness and the softness. The hardness pushes us through the difficulty of life and keeps us driving to succeed even when we've failed over and over again, the softness is what gives us a light of some kind, a grace to enjoy what we made ourselves hard for.

I need that for myself, that permission for softness, a magic that looks inside not outside and isn't always about input and output, that space to be gentle and surrounded by love. When I came back, Jow said I seemed different and he's right, I was. I came back changed, centered and softer. And I need that. So I'm going to do that for myself more, start going to circle more often again as a gift to myself.

Ending at 10:30 instead of 12:30 though does help my enthusiam for the prospect.

Rabbit Hearts and Revelation

So, I've watched Florence + The Machine's Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up) about um five billion times this week.

Revelations:

* Why am I never invited to parties like this? RO, could we combine our Big Blogosphere Meetup Jamboree for this to be the day portion? Formal fae attire will be required, dancing and human sacrifice optional.

* I have wanted a chemise a la reine for quite some time because I have a secret Marie Antoinette fetish (really, that shouldn't be surprising), so I'm going to have one made for me on Etsy because I'm going to two fairy events this year I can wear it to and I hold out hope for our Jamboree.

* I don't want to call this video, like, a guaranteed ecstatic trance experience or anything mostly because I don't want to be bothered by whiners, but for me, five times in a row in and . . .I'm out like a trout.

* Despite this promising information, Jow is totally trance resistant, even though I came to this revelation at work under the influence of no drugs, alcohol or even a fun environment.

* I think it says a lot about us that I'm mediation resistant (Oh man! Rules! I have to fucking schedule this in! I'm supposed to just, like empty my brain even though I've taken a lot of time and energy to fill it with important information about who's banging who and who's mad at who both in real life and on telly, uck! I don't even think I want to be enlightened. Boring. I've banged my head against this for like a full year in the ADF dedicants program to find that hey! You know how you have a generalized anxiety disorder and you take meds for it? Remember all those terrible things that you've been through that you went to therapy for an extended time to work through to continue to function on a daily basis so you can go to work and be a working member of society? Remember how you don't really care about being enlightened or Getting to the Next Level? Hey, maybe you should leave that shit alone and not stir it all up again for a v. nebulous to you purpose as you can do magic just fine without an extended meditation practice) but pro-trance/ecstatic experience and Jow is exactly the opposite (what! I have to depend solely on my own experience? There's no empirical data to give me an exact blue print? It just happens? I have to do any number of things like dance, drink, drum, sweat lodge, use kava, go to a festival or listen to Florence + the Machine until I want to bang my head against the keyboard repeatedly? I said good day, Sir!).

* I do trance experiences before bed most nights before going to bed to go to my internal hearth. When I am super sick and cannot clean my actual house, I clean my internal hearth. When I don't have much money (which is always), I can make elaborate offerings to my gods on my beach and hang with them.

* I like trance because . . .sometimes I get performance anxiety pressure about random things, like I can't feel feelings on command, which was an issue about my wedding which was to be THE HAPPIEST DAY OF MY LIFE OR ELSE!!!11!!! If I am dying for a trance experience and want one on command, I can do one of two things:
a) Attend a sweat lodge because for me, it's going to happen there as . . .that's what it's designed to do.
b) Go to a goth club, drink three shots of tequila or goldschlagger and start dancing. I will feel the booze burning in my blood and if I dance until I get to the woozy is this a good idea or bad idea, who cares keep dancing, it will happen.

* Otherwise, it happens for me when it happens for me. I don't have to plan for it, it's usually when I push myself as far as I can go and then push myself just a little further. This tends to happen for me when: massively housefraus'ing, dancing, parties at my house, drinking just slightly past my comfort zone, cons, and festivals. I enjoy the happy surprise aspect of it.

* Look. I know I'm supposed to be, like, above the buzz but while while I do agree with Jason that if your goal is target driven, the less buzz, the better. However, if it's just celebratory, game on, in my opinion. My practice is distinctly Hollow One, my life tends more towards Cultist of X/mermaid/nymph. So, This was really difficult as I was leaving my maidenhood which was more conducive to such practices. As a mother (not literal), I figured out:
a) It's a party when I say it's a party, bitch. Meaning, anything can be with the right attitude
b) I channeled some of the energy into creating a hearth, fashion, cooking, a magical practice, writing and crafting
c) I throw a lot of parties
d) The booze at my house is always top shelf which is a big plus
e) I need to get my buzzy ya-yas out at least quarterly or I start to get antsy and then I start looking for trouble. This is easy enough to head off. Arisia con gets my kitchen witch yayas out *and* the after parties get my CoX bits out. The Fairy Festival is all about soaking in the glamour during the day and making poor drinking (and sometimes otherwise) decisions with friends in a field in a farm in the middle of nowhere with a big bonfire.

* When I am tranced out, I can generally see into the squishy insides of people and because I'm tranced out and my filter is zero, I NEED to make these observations OUT LOUD to the person. It's a dice roll as to how that's received. It's also why I'm not tranced out for like 90% of my life.

* But generally I try to keep my trance revelations introspective so as to not alienate everyone around me (well, for that reason at least). Rabbit Heart, both the lyrics and the video describe exactly how I feel inside right now.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

I must become a lion hearted girl
Ready for a fight
Before I make the final sacrifice

We raise it up, this offering
We raise it up

I'm getting exactly what I wanted in my life and I'm becoming the person I've worked really hard to be my whole adult life, but it doesn't come for free all of these things. In the video, she's the guest of honor at this wild fairy party but, like so many of our myths, she's the one who's sacrificed at the end (v. prettily of course, which is what I too would demand, if you're going to out, go out like homegirl Ophelia) which I've sort of interpreted for my own life that yeah, I've got all the things I've wanted - home ownership, a hearth, good relationships, lots of loved ones, a blooming writing and crafting career, a blooming kitchen witch practice, love for my body, forgiveness for my past, comfort in my own skin. But it won't always be easy, I'll be plagued as I always am with self doubt, I'll have to work really hard, I'll have to make sure I can *keep* these things and I will have to fight like hell to be the person I want to be and have the life I want to life, I need to not get too bogged down by material things and be fierce with all my heart.

Before I too am floated out to sea.

I am who I am who I am who I am/ Requesting some enlightenment/ Could I have been anyone other than me?

Gather around, my children of the corn, it's time for a personal statement of purpose. I'm not talking a magical one, though my PEH summed up my magical one quite nicely as radical practicality. We're talking about me.

Some magicians/occultists/your cat who does magic/whatever would prefer to see magic more as science, factual by results and comforting through the written word. But here's the thing, nothing is unbiased. Not science, certainly. After all science once believed the sun circled the earth, men were smarter than women due to brain weight and that people of color were empirically less intelligent than white people.

Not you, not me, not anyone is unbiased. When you step into your magical circle, into the forest, into the kitchen, you don't magically shed your biases. Neither does anyone else. Susan doesn't stop being mad at you for boning her husband, Alan doesn't stop thinking that you're a cheapskate because you always bring dessert and never a main dish for feast, etc., etc, etc.

Where I am going with this is that a big part of who I am as a person is a feminist (in case the Dianic Wicca part didn't tip you off). I got my college degree in Women's Studies. I've worked for and been paid by the National Organization for Women. I'm part of the Amethyst Circle of Sisters (my Dianic group). And when I do magic and when I write about magic, this doesn't turn off.

I am the first to say I come from a place of privilege - I'm a white middle class American citizen and I do constantly examine my place of privilege. But that also means I'm constantly contemplating others' privileges and the places I come from that aren't privileged when I am treated as lesser for my less privileged aspects. And I can't shut that off. Jow and I have had many discussions about privledge, to the point that he can recognize when Not Cool Shit is Going Down. And it can be a drag. We were minding our own business watching Warehouse 13 when he said, "Oh man, it's totally happen on my show! Noooooooooooooo! There are these three women of color who have magical capabilities and are bad ass in their own right but here it is, random white dude coming in to supervise and he's not even magical! Why is he in charge? Oh man! I can't shut this off! I can't stop seeing it! Grrrrrrrr!"

And for some of us who have spent a lot of time examining our own privledge and all the ways big and small various people get treated as lesser, that's exactly what it is. I can't shut it off. Not just because we're talking about magic and here in our safe little corner of the blogosphere people have disagreements and hissy fits but we all respect each other as equals, not because it makes you uncomfortable, not because you don't want to talk about it here, not because some of my experiences of being treated like crap by my so called magical brothers and sisters make you feel awkward. Never. I can't shut it off until everything's right when it comes to race/gender/sexuality/class/ableism and um that's not going to happen any time in my life time in all likelihood, sadly.

And you don't have to like it or agree and you don't have to read me if it bothers you, you can't all like me or love me as charming as I am. But it's not going away in any of my writing. And some of my bias *is* when it comes to the larger occult community and higher magic, because of how I've been treated there. Maybe the "battle" about how people treat each other magically and who is respected more than who due to their lineage and teachings is over for you and that's cool. But it's not over for me, I still fight it every day. I still get treated like I do Barbie magic every day of my damn life (among other things) and I won't pretend the battle is over to make you feel comfortable. Because you know what? It's not over for me and that's my experience which is as valid as yours. This blog is about my magical experience and my views on privilege is part of it.

Don't get me wrong. I got upgraded to Business Class for the first time and dear goddess, it's awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwesome! There's, like, as much booze as you can pour down your throat in a three hour flight, more leg room, as much tv as you want to watch, bejeweled to play, food, real actual good food that's not chock full of fat and served on plates. Who the hell would willingly want to give it up? There are some feminists who would argue that one must in order to be a good global citizen. I don't think it's possible though, honestly. What I *do* think is possible is to be honest with yourself about your privilege, to examine it and to realize that just because you may see Ted as Ted, not Ted the gay black dude, that doesn't mean that Ted feels the same way. Ted may see you as Arnold the white dude who is my friend but gets out of traffic violations much easier and has a larger dating pool and has not been disowned by his family for being who he is.

It's the instinct of many to want to downplay others' negative experiences from being treated as lesser, whether on the street or in the work place or in the magical community because man, you're not like that. But it's much harder to consider that just because *you* aren't like that doesn't mean that Ted doesn't get treated like shit in big and small ways in a lot of other places. And to my mind, the best way to deal with your privilege isn't to fall on your knees and apologize for others' douchebag reactions even if you have a lot of privilege personally. The right thing to do isn't to tell Ted that he's being too sensitive either and people aren't like that anymore. The best thing, the most right thing you can do from your place of privledge is simple. You say, Wow, Ted. That really sucks. I'm sorry you had to go through that. And hug him if that's your thing.

Fin.

Building an Amazon Bad Ass . . .Through Books.

My PEH, Gordon asked us what 10 books would we use to try to build a mage/witch/magic user/whatever of a specific bent. I decided to build an Amazon Bad Ass (specializing in Hearth Witchery). I liked that Gordon allowed for fiction. In the comments, as you can see, everyone (my Jow included) picked v. lofty books for their lists, I only really overlap with people on my choices for #2. and #6. I would be curious to see what would happen if the challenge happened (someone has access only to the books we've given them and no previous knowledge of what we're trying to impart onto them). I'm guessing she would be confused by my choices, probably. ;p But it's a sincere look into my brain and how I became the kind of pagan/magic user/hearth woman I am.

I am building a Bad Ass Amazon (specializing in hearth witchery)

1. Someplace to be Flying (Charles Delint) (fiction) - a must have for the urban shaman

2. Evolutionary Witchcraft (Thorn Coyle) - her Iron Pentacle Meditation is unbelievably hard core. An amazon needs some reclaimst in her.

3. Eat, Love, Pray (Elizabeth Gilbert)(memoir) - for her inevitable identity meltdown. It made me want to run off to an ashram and started me on my daily japa practice.

4. Palimpsest (fiction) (Catherynne M. Valente) - a book about a sexually transmitted dream city you visit in your sleep. Need I really say more? Okay. It opened my heart up in ways I can't even describe. I tell Cat she makes me cry more than anything else. It was a bit embarassing seeing her tour with SJ Tucker when they read a piece from the book about the opera and Sooj sang and I just cried and cried in a full room full of people. It made me see the world more magically again.

5. D'Aulaires' Book of Greek Myths (Ingri d'Aulaire & Edgar Parin d'Aulaire) (children's book) - This book made me a pagan, it planted the seed in the children's room in the library. Other pagans have said the same thing. Concisely lays out the Olympians.

6. Hoodoo Root & Herb Magic (Cat Yronwode) - A must source book for all of one's charms and hexes

7. Miss Abernathy’s Concise Slave Training Manual and Training With Miss Abernathy (Christina Abernathy) - Even if you're not kinked, it's a good primer on how to be service oriented. As someone who has kitchen witched for rituals, Thanksgivings, and funeral repasts great and small, it helps to get organized.

8. Real Simple magazine: A monthly magazine that teaches organization, budgeting, meal planning, etiquette, and other day to day life must haves. I cut out articles and recipes. You will need this for anything from knowing what to bring as a hostess gift to what to make for dinner on a Wednesday on a budget to how to start investing.

9. The Spirit Ways (Eric Taylor, Rachel Barth, Scott Cohen, and John Snead) (WW RPG) - How shamanism makes sense to me.

10. Spiral Dance (Starhawk) - You always remember your first. I *love* that she revises it every five years to be like, this was wrong, this was totally fucked up, I do this now, etc. It's also a really good Dianic primer.

What would you pick?

Just as Long as We're Together: Amazon Rites NJ Style

"Women go there to dance. They get all ready in the mirror with their friends. They're like, 'I just need to go. I just need to dance. I'm serious, tonight -- no guys. Screw guys. I just need to -- I've had a rough week, and I just need to dance it out. I just want to stand in a circle around our pocketbooks and shoes and just -- I just want to dance. Dance!'" - Dane Cook

"Girls love 80s parties. I could tell them that Osama bin Laden was holding a party, and they’d refuse to attend. But if I told them Osama bin Laden was holding an 80s party, they’d be like, '. . .well, what time?’” - Nick Swardson

"They always come home the same way. They stumble in with their high heels in their hands. *Whoo-whoo!* *Whoo-whoo*! 'Where were you?' 'I was with my girlfriends.' 'I know that. It's 3:30 in the morning.'" - Jo Koy

When I was a younger amazon, we used to go to this restaurant/club in New Brunswick called Gaebel's all the time. They would push back all the tables later at night and there would be a dj spinning vinyl. I was all full of piss and vinegar and tequila those nights, wearing a mini, belly top, and stompy boots. My hair would be up in pigtails and I would be smeared in sweat and glitter, and whenever Hypnotize came on, the whole entire room would go *ballistic* and it was just such an awesome feeling of being young and badass.

Gaebel's closed about four years ago. Hypnotize came on the radio on Friday when I was coming home from a very long all day meeting in Princeton. I was wearing corporate clothes with a silk scarf and was pretty sure I would never again dance to Hypnotize and more sure my life was over.

As a younger Amazon, I used to dress with more intent. Clothes, makeup, jewelry, all of that helped me present the image I wanted to present for whatever I was doing. It was my warpaint, my sword, my shield, my poison cup. Somewhere, during the divorce last year, I lost this piece of myself.

I wouldn't credit Wasband with having that much power that it was solely the soul crushing process of being divorced that did this to me. I knew right before 30, I was transitioning. As a Dianic, I do believe in the maid/mother/crone three, as much as supersrs occultists wrinkle their noses at it. Here's the thing - being a sexual virgin doesn't make you a maid, having kids doesn't make you a mother, your period stopping doesn't make you a crone. Not in and of itself at least. Being free and in charge of yourself makes you a maid, giving birth to *something* and being changed by it, be it yourself, a creative project, your hearth, or your career makes you a mother, and the wisdom you gain from all your life experiences and seeing the end of your own life and out the other side makes you a crone. There are other things too and I could and probably should elaborate further on all of this and my own life experiences involving these things in a later entry.

But I knew I was coming to the end of my maidenhood. At first, it was pretty awesome. My 30th birthday, surrounded by friends in dresses and ties, all of us singing, eating caviar and pizza and drinking champagne until we all were more than just a little tipsy. Buckling down on my writing. Getting my
finances under control. Getting rid of 100 contractor bags full of old fetters. Getting a hearth of my own. Getting my clitoral hood pierced, posed in Sheila-Na-Gig position, uttering a primal amazon scream and one of my amazon sisters getting me ice cream after for going through the ordeal.

And then . . .I sort of faltered. All of the clothes I would wear as soon as I could wiggle out of work are now neatly stored under my bed, only to be taken out for special occasions - conventions and the rare club night. I was becoming a mother, a hearth woman in my own right but what did it mean? Who am I? It may sound trivial to some of you, but I believe in what Catherynne M. Valente said in her Fairyland story, "'We must dress well, or the future will not take us seriously', Goodbye had said." How I dress reflects a big part of who I am. And in that respect, I have been floundering for over a year. What do I want to wear to work? Or out to dinner? That's much more of my life now than late nights.

I had lost the joy and the magical purpose I had with dressing with intent. Recently, I had just gotten it back. New clothes, new makeup, new hair. It all goes a long way. Jow was supposed to go out with myself and my "mind sisters"* as he calls them but he bailed. Long story short, we fucked up the date for where we were supposed to go and went to the Breakfast Club instead.

But! Before that, I dressed with intent. Black and grey kilt, knee socks with little buttons, a ruffled keyhole top. Make up on, hair did. Then I decided to use some Come to Me oil, Bad Ass oil, and BPAL's CENTZON TOTOCHTIN on various bits of me. I then used Miss Spice's trick of using an eyeshadow brush and hand sanitizer to draw appropriate sigils on me for the evening. Purely for . . .research of course. Not for any selfish tail fluffing** purposes, of course.

It had been a long while since I had been at a club, I forgot the smell - sticky with bleach and beer. I had also forgotten that the Breakfast Club is Amazon territory with a *ridiculous* female to male ratio. I quickly dove into the experience of amazoning it up with my mind sisters.

Step 1: Arrive a little early so that the music is not crazy loud to be able to talk shit about Baby Amazon Rites which include: The Tragedy of Wearing Really High Heels, Two Drink Lesbian Dancing to Attract Male Attention for Later, Dancing on High Surfaces to be Better Seen by Males, Drinking a Literal Fishbowl of a Candy Colored Melage of Booze Too Many to Better Make Poor Decisions Later, and Take a Million Pictures to Document this for Facebook or My Experience Never Happened. As an older Amazon partaking in Older Amazon Rites (though not yet partaking in Elder Amazon Rites), key phrases to employ include: OMG, I thought going to a club was supposed to be about slinking in the dark and escaping not seeking out the faux paparazzi, Why is she crying, it's only 11:30, Those shoes are ridiculous, If I see anymore Two Drink Lesbian Dancing, I'm going to throw up in my own mouth.

Step 2: Critique the dj. It's your right! You've got ten years of club experience under your belt, Older Amazon! And if he's particularly heinous, even better! Key comments: His mashups suck, there should *never* be any dead air time, He only plays half a song before moving on which is ridonkulous, and He has the rhythm of an epileptic monkey.

Step 3: Drink! You know how to not vomit in the parking lot on your new shoes, Older Amazon! You can stick to beer or shots or a signature drink. Feel free to make one questionable judgement call in the form of $2 Jaegar shots.

Step 4: Dance! You're not here to impress anyone, you're here to be with each other! And this DJ while often questionable, knows his audience which is you! He's going to play all the songs *you* like so you don't riot! And that fucking includes HYPNOTIZE! Get crazy! Bust out your moves! Howl along to Gloria, Material Girl, and other riot girl songs with the other Amazons so that the club is filled with your voices! Trance out to it! Get into the magic that is song, as that guy Jason talked about. Get totes into that Amazon egregor and when Welcome to the Jungle comes on, your whole Amazon cabal will let out a primal scream like you have never heard! It's awesome!

Step 5: Uh-oh. You know the baby amazons are going to be trouble. They won't be able to contain themselves from offending Older Amazons by spilling their drinks on you and nearly falling on top of you from their higher perches. Suggest getting into a fist fight with the ones particularly bothersome to you personally to your cabal to prove your cabal's dominance. This is super awesome! Because (a) you get to feel BadAss and (b) you're Older Amazons! That means you have sense! Your cabal will say no!

Step 6: Well, Older Amazon, you're not a Baby Amazon anymore. That means by 12:30a, you are covered in a sheen of sweat and gently swaying and mouthing the words at this point. Disadvantage: Man, getting older suxxors. Advantage: You know who you're waking up with in the morning, unlike the Baby Amazons.

Step 7: In the car ride home, you can regale each other with your shared Baby Amazon Legendary Stories of all the stupid shit you somehow managed to not only live through but look hot and be bad assed! Laugh it up! It's your Goddess given right!

Step 8: Time for traditional feasting. Your old diner now sucks ass and is closed at midnight during the weekend which can bring you back to Step 7 for a quick round of The Scene is Never What it Used to Be, but you can find a crappy lesser diner to eat at. And! You get the perk of bitching about how bad it is! Eat: burgers, cokes, fries, gravy, and taylor ham on a hard roll.

Step 9: Home by 2:30a, asleep by 3:30a. Feel smug that you still have it.

Step 10: Sunday? Be a useless slag, Older Amazon! Take some tylenol, drink lots of water, eat some salty food and fuck around on the internet or tv all day. Because likely, that's about all you can manage. If you're like me and already auto-immune depressed (I have fibromyalgia) or have some other kind of nebulous stinky cat syndrome/getting older issue, good job killer! You just earned yourself a fibro day! Now you're double entitled to not cook dinner and get chinese.

* Because of those Hills-esque intense moments we have when we all stare at each other for a minute and *ping* each other and have a complete conversation without saying a word. We used to do that when we played Mage and had a mind network up, but I'm told it's scarier in real life. When we would game, we would point to each other and say *ping* and say out loud what we're beaming into each other's minds verses in real life when no words are actually said. ;p

** To fluff one's tail like a peacock due to external stranger validation given based on your appearance.

Seven times I pierce my heart/ Now I feel the magic start . . .

Kenaz had a great post on Cursing and RO followed up with a great post on personal responsibility and cursing.

Dark secret time: I am a complete pussy when it comes to cursing.

It's true! I was raised Catholic where God was supposed to dyg (do it your godself) all your cursing for you and you were supposed to turn the other cheek like a Certain Awesomely Chill Child of the Big G. And then, I was Dianic Wicca where it was all, rule of three! Rule of three! Fingers point back to you! Black magic is for Bad Ponies!

Then I started hanging out with the bad kids or at least more magically neutral kids over at GoG and our Señora Druid said, some of the worst things I've done magically was to try to help other people and some of the best things I've ever done was in being selfish or doing "gray area" magic. And I started thinking, hmmmmm. Maybe cursing is something I should be able to do.

But I hesitate. I've done a few things that can be construed as "light grey area" stuff, but how does one go from a Good Girl Catholic/Wiccan to a Curse Slingin' Dilettante? That was always what caught me, okay I do totes agree cursing is a sometimes food, but when exactly is that sometimes?

After pondering both K & RO's entries, I came up with a model that works for me. Now, those of you who don't know me, I am a *huge* crime show/Judge Judy junkie (hey! we're here to bitchily judge my magical practices, not my tv consumption).

My model is sort of L&O based and as Jason cautioned us both on modeling and what happens when you drink & blog, it's subject to change.

1. Egregious crime is committed!
2. Investigate said egregious crime, what happened? What evidence is there that this person's narrative sounds right? Is my own narrative correct? Ideally cross check with someone.
3. Prepare case to go to gods "court" with.
4. Go to trial! (i.e. commit curse)
5. Await judgement by the gods to see if this was a correct action or not.

So okay, in this scenario, I'm one of Jack's omg hot, young, plucky ADAs. Since I'm young and boffing Jack, I need to really genuinely believe in my case because I'm young and passionate and still have morals and shit and have not yet been broken down by the system. If I really believe in my "case"/curse, I can go in with mundi manus, clean hands, in my own eyes. If I really believe in my own case (i.e. I'm not just mad and being ridiculous) or someone else's case, I really feel like then I am willing to commit the curse because I'm willing to put my own ass on the line with my gods and do the work to make sure this is the right thing to do.

Nice to Meet You, Charmed . . .

My layout is thanks to Dossy! He rocks my socks, whenever I am limited by my own low skill level, I can Veruca Salt whine and he fixes because he's cool like that.

So, a bit about me as I'm sure you're *dying* to know. My regularly scheduled blogging is over on el-jay as we say over on that 'hood, but my SO has been trying to talk me into blogging about my magicy goodness over here. Apparently, if I want discussion based discourse, this is the place to be. I had been fairly quiet on the blogs I syndicate over to my lj because (a) omg a drag to click a link and log into my gmail and (b) I have a big mouth and am not always known for my massive amount of tact. Keeping my opinions to myself is not really where I excel, I tend to have that Angelina Jolie like need to blurt out anything I'm thinking.

Anyway. I was Catholic for the first 18 years of my life, CCD, confirmed, church every Sunday, confession, the whole nine. I came from a pretty progressive church so I don't have a lot of baggage, it just wasn't for me anymore. I wanted to be able to at least be a deacon, which I thought was fair but the Pope disagreed.

Then I "turned my back on thousands of years of family tradition" as my mother so colorfully put it when I came out of the broom closet, by becoming a Dianic Wiccan. I'm still part of my circle and I'm an initiated Priestess there, I consider it part of my "public" practice. Dianics can heal like whoa and I find it a good way to get connected to the Goddess within. I've been Dianic for 13 years. The other part of my public practice is Grove of the Other Gods, which is one of the largest groves with ADF. We're sort of the snake handling part of the organization. I consider GoG a good way to get connected to the gods and goddesses without. I have led rits there as well. I have been part of GoG for 9 years.

In my private practice, I consider myself primarily a hearth woman. I have been initiated as a shaman (9 years), I do a little hoodoo, I do a little kitchen witchery, I do pooja based Hindu practice, and some divination.

Gods/Goddesses/Beings Bigger than Me I work with to varying degrees but have altar space in my home: Yemaya, Crow, Parvati, Durga, Shiva, Demeter, Persephone, Hecate, Eris, Bast, Pan, Nyx, The Morrigan, and Diana.