It’s just below 56F, with a nice breeze waving the trees around and completely overcast. Everything is very, very green…..except for the coastal pine in the backyard next door that seems to have lost the fight. I guess we have a mushroom log waiting.
Yesterday I spent most of the day doing “Tuesday” while Tempus was at the shop. He had some customers, a little business, but not much. I just spent the day whomping through things and pulling up my class handout to make sure it’s ready.
Really….that’s the whole day! Oh, except that Loren was making another of the bone needles. …and we had the leftover lamb pitas for supper.
Today Loren is doing chores…kinda hoping he’s going to go food shopping…. I’m heading for the shop after noon for the first session of the Wicca 103 Intensive to start at 2pm. I’m hoping to do a little construction sewing during the time before the students arrive so I can do the finish stuff while we’re in class if I start getting antsy.
051215 Ken Gagne Yachats Eagle
Today’s plant is the snowdrop, Galanthus. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Snowdrop It was called that in Gerard’s Great Herbal in 1633. The derivation of the name is uncertain, although it may have come from the German word Schneetropfen, which was a type of earring popular around that time. Other British traditional common names include “February fairmaids”, “dingle-dangle”, “Candlemas bells”, “Mary’s tapers” and, in parts of Yorkshire,” snow piercers” (like the French name perce-neige). It is used in spells for making you think and for sorting out problems, also to chase the negative effects of sorrow and grief. .http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Snowdrop
Today’s feast is the Commemoration of Atatürk, Youth and Sports Day in Turkey. It’s the anniversary of the beginning of their war of independence. More here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Commemoration_of_Atat%C3%BCrk,_Youth_and_Sports_Day
The shop is closed on Tuesday/Wednesday! Summer hours are 11am-7pm Thursday through Monday. Need something off hours? Give us a call at 541-563-7154 or Facebook or email at firstname.lastname@example.org If we’re supposed to be closed, but it looks like we’re there, try the door. If it’s open, the shop’s open! In case of bad weather, check here at the blog for updates, on our Facebook as Ancient Light, or call the shop.
Love & Light,
New Moon – The beginning of a new cycle. Keywords for the New phase are: beginning, birth, emergence, projection, clarity. It is the time in a cycle that you are stimulated to take a new action. During this phase the new cycle is being seeded by your vision, inner and outer. Engage in physical activity. Spend time alone. VISUALIZE your goals for the 29.6-day cycle ahead. The new moon is for starting new ventures, new beginnings. Also love and romance, health or job hunting. God/dess aspect: Infancy, the Cosmic Egg, Eyes-Wide-Open – Associated God/dess: Inanna who was Ereshkigal. Phase ends on 5/19 at 9:13am. Waxing Moon Magick – The waxing moon is for constructive magick, such as love, wealth, success, courage, friendship, luck or healthy, protection, divination. Any working that needs extra power, such as help finding a new job or healings for serious conditions, can be done now. Also, love, knowledge, legal undertakings, money and dreams. Phase ends at the Tide Change on 6/2 at 9:19am. Diana’s Bow – On the 3rd day after the new moon you can (weather permitting) see the tiny crescent in the sky, the New Moon holding the Old Moon in her arms. Begin on your goals for the next month. A good time for job interviews or starting a project. Take a concrete step! God/dess aspect: Daughter/Son/Innocence – Associated God/dess: Vesta, Horus. Phase ends on 5/22at 9:13am.
Three doubles under Saturn. Once Saturn has risen well up in the south-southeast in late evening, examine the little star 2° below it. That’s Beta (β) Scorpii, a fine double star for telescopes. Another 1° below that is the very wide naked-eye pair Omega1 and Omega2 Scorpii, nearly vertical and a little too faint for the scene at the top of this page. Binoculars show their slight color difference. Left or lower left of Beta by just 1.6° is Nu Scorpii, another fine telescopic double. High power in good seeing reveals Nu’s brighter component itself to be a close binary, separation 2 arcseconds.
Jupiter (magnitude –2.0, in Cancer) shines high in the west as the stars come out. It’s the second-brightest point in the sky after Venus. They’re closing in toward each other: from 35° apart on May 15th to 29° apart on the 22nd. They’re heading toward a spectacularly close conjunction at the end of June.
Goddess Month of Hera runs from 5/16 – 6/12
Celtic Tree Month of Huath/Hawthorn, May 13 – Jun 9
Runic half-month of Inguz/Ing, 5/14-5/28 – Male consort of Nerthus, the Earth Mother, Ing is god of the hearth. This time of year expresses potential for abundant growth. Nigel Pennick, The Pagan Book of Days, Destiny Books, Rochester, Vermont, USA, 1992, p. 70.
©2015 M. Bartlett, Some parts separately copyright.
Celtic Tree Month of Huath/Hawthorn, May 13 – Jun 9 – I am fair among flowers – Color: Purple – Class: Peasant – Letter: H – Meaning: Being held back for a period of time – Hawthorn – Like willows, hawthorns have many species in Europe, and they are not always easy to tell apart. All are thorny shrubs in the Rose family (Rosaceae), and most have whitish or pinkish flowers. The common hawthorn (Crataegus monogyna Jacq.) and midland hawthorn (Crataegus laevigata (Poiret) DC.) are both widespread. They are common in abandoned fields and along the edges of forests. Both are cultivated in North America, as are several native and Asiatic hawthorns. Curtis Clark
Huathe – Hawthorne Ogam letter correspondences
Meaning: Being held back for a period of time
to study this month – Ur – Heather and Mistletoe Ogam letter correspondences
Class: Heather is Peasant; Mistletoe is Chieftain
Meaning: Healing and development on the spiritual level.
Tides for Alsea Bay
Tu 19 High 1:24 AM 8.7 5:45 AM Rise 7:19 AM 0
19 Low 8:19 AM -1.7 8:41 PM Set 10:22 PM
19 High 2:46 PM 7.0
19 Low 8:17 PM 2.0
Affirmation/Thought for the Day – Beauty draws the soul out, connects to us at the soul level.
~ Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful. – Norman Vincent Peale
~ Love yourself first and everything else falls into line. You really have to love yourself to get anything done in this world. – Lucille Ball
~ Meditate, do your rituals, beseech the gods for mercy… and then roll up your sleeves and get to work. – April Elliott Kent
~ Cats are smarter than dogs. You will NEVER get eight cats to pull sled through snow. – Jeff Valdez
Truthfully, I am “homesick” for a land that is not mine. I am haunted by the steppes, the solitude, the everlasting snow and the great blue sky “up there”! The difficult hours, the hunger, the cold, the wind slashing my face, leaving me with enormous, bloody, swollen lips. The camp sites in the snow, sleeping in the frozen mud, none of that counted, those miseries were soon gone and we remained perpetually submerged in a silence, with only the song of the wind in the solitude, almost bare even of plant life, the fabulous chaos of rock, vertiginous peaks and horizons of blinding light. A land that seems to belong to another world, a land of Titans or gods ? I remained under its spell. – Alexandra David-Néel; letter to her husband, March 12, 1917
You are what your deep driving desire is,
As your desire is, so is your will.
As your will is, so is your deed.
As your deed is, so is your destiny. – Brihadaranyaka Upanishad IV.4.5
Many a young person tells me he wants to be a writer. I always encourage such people, but I also explain that there’s a big difference between “being a writer” and writing. In most cases these individuals are dreaming of wealth and fame, not the long hours alone at the typewriter. “You’ve got to want to write,” I say to them, “not want to be a writer.”
The reality is that writing is a lonely, private and poor-paying affair. For every writer kissed by fortune, there are thousands more whose longing is never requited. Even those who succeed often know long periods of neglect and poverty. I did.
When I left a 20-year career in the Coast Guard to become a freelance writer, I had no prospects at all. What I did have was a friend with whom I’d grown up in Henning, Tennessee. George found me my home, a cleaned-out storage room in the Greenwich Village apartment building where he worked as superintendent. It didn’t even matter that it was cold and had no bathroom. Immediately I bought a used manual typewriter and felt like a genuine writer.
After a year or so, however, I still hadn’t received a break and began to doubt myself. It was so hard to sell a story that I barely made enough to eat. But I knew I wanted to write. I had dreamed about it for years. I wasn’t going to be one of those people who die wondering, “What if?” I would keep putting my dream to the test even though it meant living with uncertainty and fear of failure. This is the Shadowland of hope, and anyone with a dream must learn to live there.
Then one day I got a call that changed my life. It wasn’t an agent or editor offering a big contract. It was the opposite a kind of siren call tempting me to give up my dream. On the phone was an old acquaintance from the Coast Guard, now stationed in San Francisco. He had once lent me a few bucks and liked to egg me about it. “When am I going to get the $15, Alex?” he teased. “Next time I make a sale.”
“I have a better idea,” he said. “We need a new public-information assistant out here, and we’re paying $6,000 a year. If you want it, you can have it.”
Six thousand a year! That was real money in 1960. I could get a nice apartment, a used car, pay off debts and maybe save a little something. What’s more, I could write on the side.
As the dollars were dancing in my head, something cleared my senses. From deep inside a bull-headed resolution welled up. I had dreamed of being a writer, full time. And that’s what I was going to be. “Thanks, but no,”
I heard myself saying. “I’m going to stick it out and write.” Afterward, as I paced around my little room, I started to feel like a fool. Reaching into my cupboard an orange crate nailed to the wall I pulled out all that was there: two cans of sardines. Plunging my hands in my pockets, I came up with 18 cents. I took the cans and coins and jammed them into a crumpled paper bag. There Alex, I said to myself. There’s everything you’ve made of yourself so far. I’m not sure I ever felt so low.
I wish I could say things started getting better right away. But they didn’t. Thank goodness I had George to help me over the rough spots.
Through him I met other struggling artists, like Joe Delaney, a veteran painter from Knoxville, Tennessee. Often Joe lacked food money, so he’d visit a neighborhood butcher who would give him big bones with morsels of meat, and a grocer who would hand him some wilted vegetables. That’s all Joe needed to make down-home soup. Another Village neighbor was a handsome young singer who ran a struggling restaurant. Rumor had it that if a customer ordered steak, the singer would dash to a supermarket across the street to buy one. His name was Harry Belafonte.
People like Delaney and Belafonte became role models for me. I learned that you had to make sacrifices and live creatively to keep working at your dreams. That’s what living in the Shadowland is all about.
As I absorbed the lesson, I gradually began to sell my articles. I was writing about what many people were talking about then: civil rights, black Americans and Africa. Soon, like birds flying south, my thoughts were drawn back to my childhood. In the silence of my room, I heard the voices of Grandma, Cousin Georgia, Aunt Plus, Aunt Liz and Aunt Till as they told stories about our family and slavery.
These were stories that black Americans had tended to avoid before, and so I mostly kept them to myself. But one day at lunch with editors of Reader’s Digest, I told these stories of my grandmother and aunts and cousins. I said that I had a dream to trace my family’s history to the first African brought to these shores in chains. I left that lunch with a contract that would help support my research and writing for nine years.
It was a long, slow climb out of the shadows. Yet in 1970, 17 years after I left the Coast Guard, Roots was published. Instantly I had the kind of fame and success that few writers ever experience. The shadows had turned into dazzling limelight.
For the first time I had money and open doors everywhere. The phone rang all the time with new friends and new deals. I packed up and moved to Los Angeles, where I could help in the making of the Roots TV mini-series. It was a confusing, exhilarating time, and in a sense, I was blinded by the light of my success. Then one day, while unpacking, I came across a box filled with things I had owned years before in the Village. Inside was a brown paper bag.
I opened it, and there were two corroded sardine cans, a nickel, a dime and three pennies. Suddenly the past came flooding in like a riptide. I could picture myself once again huddled over the typewriter in that cold, bleak, one-room apartment. And I said to myself. The things in this bag are part of my roots, too. I can’t ever forget that. I sent them out to be framed in Lucite. I keep that clear plastic case where I can see it every day. I can see it now above my office desk in Knoxville, along with the Pulitzer Prize, a portrait of nine Emmys awarded to the TV production of Roots, and the Spingarn medal—the NAACP’s highest honor. I’d be hard pressed to say which means the most to me. But only one reminds me of the courage and persistence it takes to stay the course in the Shadowland.
It’s a lesson anyone with a dream should learn.