So Long, Snake

My friend Snake died on Sunday. I had a post quasi-written about it, but I'm not feelin' it.

I'll miss the crusty old fart.

WHen I found out, I was knee deep in Dragon Con business, helping friends with their booth, and didn't have time to dwell on mortality.

So I said a prayer and got on with the day.

Since I'm not feelin' much like anything of note, I thought I could share my prayer, for what it's worth.
~~~~~

My roots go down to the heart of creation
My branches reach high into the heavens
I am steady as the oldest stones, unmoved by time and tide
My leaves dance in the winds of fate
The music of the stars sings through me
I am strong
I am eternal
I am alive

Some Folks Just Don't Have Anything Better to Do

Sigh.

My band is engaged to perform on Memorial Day, a new event at a new venue: Gryphon's Nest Campground in Baton Rouge. I haven't had occasion to speak to the owner/organizer - that lot has fallen to PJ (We take turns doing bookings so no one is overwhelmed with the responsibility).

Today I learned that the fellow in charge is under siege, both in the Mundane world and here in the Blue Nowhere. It seems that some folks in his area have taken exception to his holding an event, open to the public, that is pagan in nature.

These people have defamed his character, printed and spoken outright lies about this man, this event, and pagans in general.

Now, y'all know by now (I hope) that I am pagan. And y'all know by now (I hope) that I'm a basically decent person who does her best to be a good human. And y'all know (I hope) that I don't have any issue with Christianity as a spiritual way. I've seen and known a lot of good people who follow one church or another, a lot of kindness and compassion that have sprung from Christ's teachings.

I've also seen, and experienced a lot of ignorant hatred from people so blind they couldn't see my character, but only the pentacle I wear. I've been threatened, reviled, and called many interesting if unimaginative names because of my beliefs. It sucks, but if my belief in my spiritual way can't handle some name-calling, it's not much of a path, is it?

I wonder why the protesters, the people hacking websites and putting up their own misinformation, can't manage to feel the same way?

If you don't already have plans for Memorial Day and you'd like to help show support for spiritual freedom, music, and community, come on out and join us for the weekend; with any luck, the worst thing we'll have to fend off is a Louisiana skeeter!

Harbinger

There was a hawk.

The hawk is my totem animal, he said, my spirit messenger. I carried hawk feathers with me, each one a gift left behind by a hawk that told me something.

It's unlawful to carry raptor feathers. He knew that. It didn't matter. Things of the spirit trump the laws of man.

When a hawk crosses your trail, they're a sign of changes coming. Good, bad, that's up to you. The hawk just knows the wind will blow another way soon, and she's telling you.

She landed in a tree across the street from where I sat at a stop sign, waiting. The tree wasn't much more than a sapling, a gangly pine. It swayed under her weight.

I called out my usual blessing - "Good hunting, cousin!" She nodded, but otherwise did not move. She watched me as I turned onto the road.

Sometimes I dream I am the hawk, carrying words on the wind, soaring ever higher. I'm not bound to this grey place, to pain or sorrow or loss any more. I do not see the world through bars and shadows. Then I wake up here, trapped in the waking world by the fay's anathema (iron)...but I remember what it was like to rise up and shake it off like dust from my feathers, and I hope.

She waited until I was out of the turn, straight on the road, before launching herself into a glide that carried her across my path.

Change coming. She flew towards the house I'd just left, home. Change coming home. Home coming. Home changing.

Yes, ma'am.