Things I do

I don't know why I am drawn to do this entry.  Check that, I guess I do.  I started blogging all those years ago because I needed an outlet that allowed me to open up and speak my mind.  It was a way to build confidence.  I find myself needing it again.  Despite appearances on Facebook, I feel I have been saying less and less.  At least, I feel I have been speaking with less...substance.  It's time to change that.  What better way to begin than to write about my Pagan experiences? 

In many ways, it seems to be too personal, too private to speak of my spirituality or my practice.  Plus, right now I don't have any one daily practice, although I do catch myself looking at a certain plaque I sculpted and just talking to the one it represents.  More often or not, I talk to Him almost as if He were a hennish best friend (as embarrassing as it is to admit that,) but it suits Him.  I do talk to Him more seriously at times but I can't stay serious for long.

I used to have a more witchy practice - the candles, the incense, the circles and spells.  I still enjoy many of those things.  I love how centering it is to sit and recite a rosary to the Star Goddess or to gaze into a candle's flame.  I still sometimes draw sigils and give offerings, whether it is in return for something done or just because I want to do so.  Lately, however, I have been going a more shamanic route. 

I took some classes in Core Shamanism many years ago from a student of Michael Harner but they fell apart when we couldn't keep a decent number of people in our drumming circle.  While I later read books like Harner's and Caitlin Matthews' Singing the Soul Back Home, the lessons I learned then didn't stick until all these years later.   

I won't do it every day but I try to journey at least once a week.  I love the feeling I get from riding the drumbeat through the worlds.  I love the exploration and the feeling of cooperation and connectedness I feel throughout (well, with the exception of that one flower.  It let me know in no uncertain terms what it thought of humans but I have to admit I liked its grumpy, cantankerous self.)   I also try to leave room afterward to let my experiences percolate through my brain.  I feel that to do it more often, especially without reflection and that percolation, is to risk becoming something of an Otherworlds Tourist, tripping through Worlds and not getting anything much of worth out of the experience.  I will not do that to my Gods and my allies.      

I have heard people ask and I have asked the question myself, "Are the things that happen during journeys real?"  My teacher's answer was that if you get something good out of it, does it matter if it's real or not?  I have to admit, it is a good answer.  Then again, there are the times I got some bit of information on a journey and it turned out to be right on target.  I also remember picking Michael Harner's book Cave and Cosmos and as I flipped through it, seeing a hand drawn map showing a place I had visited in my journeys and never mentioned to anyone.  There were other accounts of people having very similar experiences to mine.   

I think I have my answer on that score.  Something is certainly going on the 'is it real' front.   

This May - Or May Not - Have Happened.

Here I am, walking through another endless antique mall as the folks look for yet another obscure piece of glassware.  At least it's one of the more interesting malls.  It's a little junky, which means I might have a shot at finding something really quirky and neat. 

I see an old, black rotary phone sitting all alone on a table a few booths ahead.  I have to admit to a bit of nostalgia when I see it.  We had a rotary wall phone when I was a kid - complete with the party line we could hardly ever use because of old Ms. Carr constantly gossiping to her friends.  I see this phone doesn't have the phone line that connected it to the wall jack.   

I walk closer to the phone, curious about the price.  Just as I reach for the tag, imagine my surprise when the thing rings.  Out of curosity, I can't resist answering it. 

"Hello?"

I hear a deep, ominious voice on the other end.  "You better watch your back." it says.  I'm so startled, I don't know what to say.
"I know what you've done.  Did you think you could commit such a blaphesmy and not be noticed?  You can't hide from me, much less the entire celestial army.  I will make damn sure you will burn in the deepest depths of hell for this travesty, Leonard Trapaski."


Are you kidding me?  I get a phantom phone call and it's a wrong number?  I finally find my voice and say, "Who?!"

There is a startled silence on the other end of the phone.  "Who is this?"

"Definitely not Leonard Trapaski," I say in my unmistakable for anything but feminine voice.

More startled silence. 

"Oh....um....uh...my bad.  I...um...have a...uh...haveaniceday."

I hear a click and then the silence of a dead phone.  I find myself looking at the handset, down the phone and back to the handset before I put it back into the cradle.  Maybe I'm not as interested in the old phone as I thought.  Of course, now I'm wondering why exactly Leonard Trapasky has an entire celestial army of angels after him. 

Perhaps I'll just let that one pass.  Who knows who - or what - will be calling next.

Drunken Chaos Reigns in Sumner County

Joannie Higgenbotham, Staff Writer

Firefighters and Emergency Rescue were called to a residence outside of Portland today.  What they found when they arrived was unexpected and put several of the respondents lives in danger, as well as the surrounding neighborhood.


T. Phineas Rex, of Portland, had been drinking when he fell off the table he had been using as a sundeck.  Mr. Rex fell two feet, injuring his left arm.  When Emergency rescue arrived, Mr. Rex was in a drunken rage, yelling "It's the extinction all over again, man!"  He then proceeded to lunge at EMTs and firefighters while claiming they were "out to get him."  During the melee, Mr. Rex snapped his teeth and swiped his tail at those present, knocking down one EMT and ripping the coat of a firefighter.

Mr. Rex then entered a neighbor's yard where he proceeded to climb onto a dog and ride it as it ran, frightened, around the neighborhood.  After several minutes, Mr. Rex fell off the dog and passed out in a nearby yard.             

One of Mr. Rex's neighbors, who would only identify herself as Azra, witnessed the episode.  All she would say about the incident was, "Been hitting the cider again, has he?" 

Mr. Rex is now resting at home.  No one was injured but charges of Public Intoxication and Endangerment are pending. 
     

A gardener's tale...

I've been harvesting the seed from my arugula and purple kale plants.  I have to, especially after the last time.  I didn't know.  I just.  Didn't. Know.

I was looking forward to huge bowls of salad when I first planted them.  All those purple and green leaves.  Gourmands called them 'spicy,' but most folks I knew just said they were bitter.  My plans worked well - bowls and bowls of salads came out of my patch.  Arugula, kale, romaine.  Sweet lettuces too, to balance the bitterness: oak leaf, grand rapids, black seeded simpson.  I had them all. 

When the arugula bloomed, I daydreamed about even more salads.  Same with the kale.  The plants were prolific, putting out thousands of seed and dispersing them before I even realized they were ready.  Again, I didn't think much about it.  I just thought I'd find plants in strange places for the next few months. 

Then the people started disappearing all across northern Sumner County.  One or two at first then more.  It soon spread to southern Kentucky and beyond.  No one knew what to think about it.  The people were just...gone.   

Someone soon noticed there was arugula growing in every place a person had disappeared.  A few plants by a front door.  Several hidden beneath the weeds by a hiking trail.  Later, people noticed purple kale growing in some of those places as well. 

They had gotten smart.  They had gotten hungry.

The authorities got curious and dug up some of the plants.  It was horrible.  Bits of synthetic fibers, rubber soles from shoes and tiny bone fragments were found tangled within the roots.  No one knows to this day how they managed to dig the them up without becoming a part of the debris.  Especially now that we know how the plants fed themselves. 

You see, somehow what they were getting out of the ground wasn't enough anymore.  They needed more.  Somehow, both the arugula and kale developed facile roots.  They were certainly strong  enough to grab any passing animal, including humans, and drag them beneath the loose soil and feed on at their leisure.  It was no surprise when several horrified people in a local park caught them on film, on the move to their next feeding grounds.   

After that, the extermination program began.  The plants were attacked with extreme menace whenever they were found.  New plantings of arugula and kale were banned.  It was a hard fight and we almost lost.  Like I said, the arugula is very prolific.  The kale isn't far behind. 

So I've found some of the plants trying to hide in my garden.  I trapped them before they could feed on anything.  In my mind, turnabout is fair play and I'll eat as many of them as I can find...and keep them from spreading more seed throughout the county.

That's why I have to stay on top of harvest.       

A new sketchbook

I thought about joining the Sketchbook
Project at the Arthouse Co-op this year. It sounds like a great thing - fill up a Moleskin sketchbook and it goes on tour before being permanently housed in an Art Library in Brooklyn. It gets its own barcode and has the option of being digitized and put online. You can even get an email everytime someone looks at it.

The more I thought about it, though, I decided I may not finish it. They're charging $25 for the sketchbook. I'd probably start thinking it was too "good" to just sketch in or even to mess up. So I decided to try it on my own, with a blank book I already had. It won't go on tour anywhere, unless I carry it in my backpack and the only library it will see is the the room where I keep most of my books but that's okay. This way, the sketches can be good, bad or whatever and I can just go crazier crazy.

I'll admit it - I stole the theme I was going to use if I signed up.

So, here's the first entry. Click on it to embiggen. I ended up changing the conversation between the two pterodactyls on the branch. The first one made no sense whosoever. I'm not saying it's great art or anything but it made me laugh.

I've put off posting about the tomato fest for a few days. I think I just needed to process a few things. It was a great experience, for the most part. There were quite a few neat booths - tie dyes, jewelry, monoprints, handmade dog treats - and not enough money. Of course, I liked this booth, hidden back in the corner behind the hotdog stand. I love those Poe t-shirts and I'm keeping an eye out for the handmade Ouija board. I just love that idea.

As for the "small part"...I had great success with the show. I heard people saying great things about my work - especially the puzzle - as I looked at the other entries. Both my paintings sold.

And there's the crux of the problem. (_insert embarrassed chuckle here_) This is exactly what I want. So...why does it scare the hell out of me?

It's not the first time I've ever sold paintings - it's not even the most money I've ever made from a sale. Is it because it was a spur of the moment thing to enter? Is it because it is the first time my work's been in a gallery? Is it because I'm just weird?

I don't know.

I just know this: I'm usually okay when it comes to my art. I know I have chops. I'm happy when my work leaves the next and flies away to make a life for itself in a new place. Lately, I've been having a low grade - or in the case of last Saturday, not so low grade - Birdcage like freak outs ("...You do Martha Graham, Martha Graham, Martha Graham!...Or Madonna, Madonna, Madonna!...but you keep it all inside.")

Okay. Enough, Azra. Consider yourself slapped upside the head. Time to get back to work play.