A Dream Fragment

I am at home in Bethpage, in the living room. The room looks like it did in the late 70's/early 80's and it is well lighted. At least one lamp is on, casting a warm yellow glow around the area yet most of the room is lit by white, midday sunlight. I am watching an adaption of a Neil Gaiman book on TV and I am loving it. 

  My mom is here as well. We are watching one segment of the show and I get excited. I know they are about to show Dream but I start almost yelling, "Oh my god! Death! They're going to show Death!" Then there He is - Dream. Instead of the 'adult' Dream, they show a young one. 

During a commercial break, we talk about the show and she asks, "Have you ever seen him?" I know she means Neil. I say that yes, I have seen photos of him. She makes a face of disgust and implies that she did not like his looks. I say, "Oh yeah!" but I can't find the words to say exactly why I like him.

 The show comes back from break. Now I am a part of the story instead of an observer. One of the characters has to do some kind of ritual. One part is to wash something in hot water, which she does with no problem. Next, the ritual calls to bathe the something in cold water that has been carried in three baskets, a small red one and a medium white one and a large white one. None of them are not water tight in the least. I am the one who has to figure out how to do it. I am in a kitchen that exists both inside a building and outside. Against one wall is a steel sink with a wooden island across from it. I pull my copy of the book out of my pocket (I don't know the name of it but it is not an existing book in waking life) to see how it is done. I am trying to fill in a steel sink the baskets when I wake up.

Reboot v. 941547244AppleDeltaFish126458.3

Well, it's cloudy with a chance of rain today.  I'm assuming Set was successful in protecting Ra and His solar barque on the journey through the night.  We're all still here and the world isn't slowly being covered in ice...yet.  That rain may still prove otherwise, if it comes.  

I've been trying my best to get back into the blogging spirit for days.  It seems that if I'm not just sitting and staring at the screen, I'm way, way into TMI land.  While I'm sure the TMI has potential of  grabbing me ones of new readers, I've had entirely too much grief this past year and don't want or need any more.  It's been nearly too much to deal with as it is.   That's not to say that I won't have a fit of...something or another and the TMI will show its face anyway. 

"Anything worthwhile is dangerous." - Victor Anderson
The last twelve months have certainly proved that.  While it has been very tough - mentally, emotionally and spiritually - I have to say I wouldn't change it for the world.  I thought I knew what I was made of before.  Now I'm more sure.  Of course, this knowledge comes with a wish to go back several years in time  to those folks who gave me no end of grief and insisted I was an "Earth Mother"...and kick the everloving shit out of them for being right.  Hell, they needed kicking anyway.  They were jerks. 

Some of the lessons I've dealt with in this past year involved strength.  I found myself in a situation where I had to deal with bullying and verbal abuse while caring for a loved one.  I had never seen this side of the person, although I had certainly heard about it.  I was shocked when it reared its ugly head to me.  While I didn't exactly deal with it with grace and aplum, I did my best.  I do not put up with overgrown, obnoxious brats. 

Other lessons are harder to deal with.  They are hard because they deal with the heart.  Again, I have not dealt with them with grace and aplum...more with tears, incomprehension and depression.  Although  I have been engaged in the past and certainly cared for that person; I wasn't sure that I was really capable of love.  Well, I'm sure now.  I found someone that, after everything, I love more than anything but I can't give him the one thing he asked of me.  I can't just be a friend to him.  At least, not now.  Not after all those trips to the movies, to church and to the mountains.  Not after all that laughter and silly stuff we've shared.  Not after the conversations we've had while driving down the road - even the serious topics he couldn't believe I got him to talk about, like what heaven would be like and whether anyone other than Christians would go there.  I can't just be a friend after trying to be there for him when he got down after a friend's wedding or those rare times he talked about his dad's alzheimer's.  I can't be a friend after seeing how he got when they tried to screw him over a job he absolutely loved and his trying to decide whether to stay with it, find another job or possibly even striking out on his own with a repair shop.  I can't be a friend after knowing how much he wants kids and realizing, after all these years of being an avowed child free person, that yeah - kids with him would be great.

Don't get me wrong.  He isn't perfect.  He is bossy and can be fairly critical when things aren't done the way he would do them.  He is hardheaded and sometimes sees the world in terms of black and white.  Sometimes, he can't see what's right in front of him for things that are in the distance, be it in the past or the 'could be.'  There are a few things I'm not even going to mention for fear of the dear readers' fragile - or even not so fragile - stomachs.  No, he is far from perfect but perfection is overrated anyway...but at the moment, I guess it doesn't matter what I think. 

Well.

I guess I finally got something written, huh?  Even if it's a soliloquy on that guy (I hope it doesn't sound stalkerish!)  Now to keep the writing up for more than just one entry and get more sketches and paintings up here.

Have a good day, y'all and thank you for reading this far.  I'll leave you with a prayer from T. Thorn Coyle:

Holy Mother, in whom we live, move and have our being, from you all things emerge and unto you all things return...

Open our hearts this blessed day.  Touch our bodies and our minds.  Walk with us through the gates of power, in shadow and starlight, in fire meeting earth, in wind on the ocean and the sweet kiss of life. 

Blessed be our journey. 

A few things...

One thing learned:  no more playing with background color behind the text.  It comes through the feeds looking like a FOIA document.

Well, for good or ill, here are a few paintings...

6" x 9"
Oil on birch
This was a quick, end of day study.  He took over my chair while I was painting and I couldn't resist.  I'll probably go in and clean up that lower right corner sometime but otherwise, I like it. 

And here he is from the front: 

"Oh good god.  Another damn photo?"

I love my Japanese rabbit.  This is a study I'll finish as soon as I figure out how to do the copper bits on the brushes.  That is what's stumping me at the moment - I know I just need to sit down and draw them but I guess I decided to take the hard road and you know, not draw them. 
The shadows need something too - I'll tinker with them.  Maybe.

6" x 6" Oil on primed watercolor paper

I was thinking of those old Silver Stream campers when I began this one.  This is a possible entry for this year's tomato festival.  That is if I can get it to come together a little better.  It's better than it was - I completely redid it this morning.  I got entirely too fiddly and overworked the hell out of it.  So reboot. 

It has potential.  Somewhere in there. 

9" x 12"

Oil on birch

That's it for now, y'all.  Have a good one.

The Art Police

Neil Gaiman gave a great speech at the University of the Arts back in May.  In it, he talks about something I struggle with all the time, despite my brave declaration (rambling?) in the last post.

He said:
"The first problem of any kind of even limited success is the unshakable conviction that you are getting away with something, and that any moment now they will discover you. It’s Imposter Syndrome, something my wife Amanda christened the Fraud Police.

In my case, I was convinced that there would be a knock on the door, and a man with a clipboard (I don’t know why he carried a clipboard, in my head, but he did) would be there, to tell me it was all over, and they had caught up with me, and now I would have to go and get a real job, one that didn’t consist of making things up and writing them down, and reading books I wanted to read. And then I would go away quietly and get the kind of job where you don’t have to make things up any more."

Oh yes.  I know the Fraud Police well.  I call them the Art Police.  Sometimes, I see them as Men In Black - the weird, anachronistic ones rather than Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith.  I would be there, standing in front of the easel when they drive up in their 1940's but brand new looking sedan.  They would get out of the car and in their strange, robotic voices, tell me they were on to me and I would have to put down the brush and stop Right This Minute  because I was perpetuating a major fraud on the world and if I didn't, then Dire Things may happen.  I may even have to ask people if they want fries with that.

I'd like to say that I always know how to deal with the Art Police.  I don't.  Sometimes, yes, I can turn the imagery on its head and invite the MIBs to sit down and have some tea.  I can question every Dire Thing they threaten me with and they stutter and stammer.  But just as often, I still get caught in the trap and their lies about the Dire Things, especially when those Dire Things seem to happen when things are starting to go well.

Yes, it happens sometimes.

That's when I just have to remember - and sooner or later, I do - the Art Police don't have any power over me, unless I give it to them.  That goes for crazymakers and busybodies too.

Art isn't some elitist thing.  There is no "You must be this educated/talented/crazy" bar to stand next to in order to get on the ride.  All that is required is that you show up and do the work.  The ride takes care of itself.     

What I know

Now that I've got a decent, and more importantly - reliable, internet connection I don't have any excuse not to update these blogs, eh?  Art will be forthcoming, once I get used to the idea of being able to show off a bit again. 

In the meantime, I'm going back to the original premise of this blog.  I started blogging way back when there was still a Geocities and I thought it inconceivable to fill up a whole *2 MG* of disk space.  I did it as a way to gain a bit of self - confidence.  I need a bit of that again. 

I've also decided to be a little more out there in regards to my paganism.  I've always been a little reticent about talking about it, mainly because I haven't had the most consistent schooling.  I don't have any degrees or lineage in a tradition.  I certainly know I'm not the wisest person in the world.  You know what?  While I am always open to learning and growing, I not sure I care about all that anymore. 

I may not know all the correspondences of every herb or stone listed somewhere in a book.  I could care less about planetary hours or if the moon is void of course.  I do know better but I can't help thinking every time I hear that the moon has suddenly left its orbit and going to go crashing into the earth or something.  

What I do know is the moon and sun don't just go from East to West.  Over the course of a month or year, they trace a lemniscate in the sky - an infinity symbol.  I know there is a star that marks the seasons - it appears in a different "corner" of the moon - upper left, upper right, lower right and lower left. 

I know the cycles of life.  I see Her in them, from the fresh maidenhood of spring plants to the lush bounty of the mother in summer.  I see the coming of the crone in the fall and the faceless one in the clean, cold sleep of winter.  I see it repeat every year. 

I also see those cycles are also spirals.  Animals born, plants sprouted.  Mice and critters get eaten by the cats and the neighbor's cows and horses eat the plants.  The spiral moves onward and upward with those left behind.  New generations of animals born.  New seeds scattered.   Life moves on.

When it comes to magic, most times I use what is around me.  Five finger grass and yarrow are native plants here.  So is vervain, although I haven't found it yet.  Oak, hickory, cedar and black locust are abundant here.  I have a few herbs growing in the yard but mostly, I use what is wild. 

So, yeah, I suppose I am fairly ignorant when it comes to many forms of paganism.  I never claimed to be a wise person anyway but this is what works for me.   Apparently They are satisfied with it, as well.  I suppose that is all that matters.   

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.       

Sketches and potential paintings...maybe.

This has been a month for getting images on paper that I've been struggling with for ages. The exceptions are the unicorns but even they came out better than they have in the past.

Click for a bigger image.


I remember the dream this faery appeared in, even though it was back in the '90's. She lived near a streambed and I, along with two others, had to repair it after it had been damaged. I never knew what happened to the streambed, just that she thought we had done it. I remember thinking I had to watch my p's and q's because she could actually kill us if we accidentally insulted her. We managed to fix the stream to her satisfaction. Thank the gods - even if she didn't kill us, I wouldn't want to be whacked with that stick.


This is another dream image that has stuck with me. I remember dreaming I was on an island when two unicorns came trotting out of the water. I love how the horn isn't in the usual place. Here, I just played with the idea of a mare and colt, especially how the colt's horn would be just starting to grow.


I'm going to have to refine this one for a painting, if only for myself. It's another idea I've played with for a few years and just couldn't get it to work.

I like the little one with her eyes shut tight. I imagine her sounding a little like Ike from South Park: "Oh no...." I also like the farmer just waving away, like flying through the air over an alien landscape is an everyday thing. He may even be yelling, "Hello! Nice night, isn't it?!"

A few goofy cartoons

As usual, click to embiggen


Hee - I should probably stay inside during the next few (twenty, thirty) storms...


I remember that day. It was the umteenth day in a row of near 100 degree heat and bazillion percent humidity. I was sitting at the table after switching out sketchbooks because it seemed my new one was soaking up half the humidity out of the air and my pencil felt like it was dragging through the damp pulp. It was the middle of the afternoon and I thought, "That's it. I have officially Had Enough."


I was listening to Science Friday and they were celebrating the 50th anniversaray of SETI, the Search for ExtraTerrestrial Intelligence. It's silly but it made me laugh to think of a little grey getting anxious over the SATs and trying to figure out what a train was, let alone when it will meet another one.
The strange thing about the smiley sketch...about twenty minutes after I doodled it, I looked up and saw a nearly identical one in the clouds over head!

Tomato Art Fest time again!

Good god, it's been over a month since I posted here?! Well, it has been a little busy...

I'll admit I had my doubts about entering the Fest this year, mainly because I couldn't seem to get anything off the ground. No ideas. Nothing. Zero. Zip. Nada. I finally went back to an old sketchbook to look at some ideas that didn't pan out before.

I had this idea three years ago and just couldn't get the village to fit into the tomato. I guess it just needed time to ripen (pardon the pun.) Here's the first version:

I actually liked this version but I just couldn't justify in my own head how the tomato would burst like that and still be on the vine. So I tried again, this time with the tomato on the ground:

This version made more sense in my head and so here the finished 8" X 10" painting. I'm happy to say it's sold!

I also did another series of Ode (they're all around 2" x 3") for the festival. As far as I know, all of them but the bald one and the pigtails have sold:

Bast's followers are at it again...

One of these days, I may just get slapped upside the head for these cartoons.

Daily Drawing - The place where I do most of my drawing

The daily drawing prompt was to draw the place where I do most of my drawing. I sit under a big cedar tree most of the time, except when it's really cold or raining. There are a few things I'm not happy with in this sketch - like Nathaniel's leg. I think it actually attaches a little differently to his body but of course, like all life models, he started moving whatever part I was focused on. I don't know how in the world he can sleep like that either.

Click on the graphic to embiggen.

Daily Drawing: Carnivorous plant

I've been on the Daily Drawing list for a long time now and I decided it was high time I started contributing to it.

One entry was for a carnivorous plant. I decided to go to one of my favorite books of all time for inspiration - Day of the Triffids. Here is my rendition of a triffid but I forgot to give it any leaves.

Poor little naked triffid.

Sketch: Giant Leopard Moth

I had a visitor the other day. This fella stuck around for hours. I figure it had just come out of the chrysalis and was drying its wings. According to enature.com, it is a Giant Leopard Moth - what wooly worms become when they grow up!

Wishcasting Wednesday

Jamie Ridler says on her website: "You can be a maker of magic and a tender of wishes. It's easy." All you have to do is answer the prompt on your blog and link in. Today's prompt is "What do you wish to know?"

Oh gods, there's an entire universe, both out there and in here. What don't I want to know?

Some of the things I want to know are pretty mundane, if fangirly. Will Atlantis ever get back to the Pegasus galaxy? (I hope so.) What was it Sam felt so bad about before he died in "Under the Dome"? Will we ever get to ogle see Wolverine in another movie? (Oh god yes, please.)

All right, I suppose I won't waste wishes on those.

Other things I want to know: why do all the best songs come on the radio just as you have to leave or get out of the car? Why do I always have plenty of pennies in my pocket, except when I need them? How does my cat always know when I have something to eat, even when he's two floors down and outside?

I guess I won't waste wishes on those either. Sometimes it's better and more fun to wonder than to actually know.

Will we ever find definitive proof of life elsewhere in this big universe of ours? Is this the only one or are there many, many other universes? Can everything be explained and unified by one little elegant equation, like Einstein tried to find? I kind of hope not on that last one. I'm not so sure I want everything explained. Not only does it seem to be way too much diversity to be explained with one tiny equation but honestly - what fun would there be in it? There wouldn't be any mystery left.

What's life without a little mystery?

So what is it exactly do I wish to know? There are so many directions to go in. Spirit, career, love to name a few. I may as well go for a big wish, one that is a little scary as hell for me. May as well kick that fear to the curb, even though I know it won't go without a lot of screaming and kicking of its own.

I know I am a solitary person. I don't need someone in my life 24/7. In fact, I need solitude in order to function or things can get very ugly and surly. It's just the way I am. I don't need to be "completed," "made honest" or "a real woman" by another person.

Even so, this doesn't mean I don't want to share things with someone. Someone who can appreciate the mystery, the splendor, the...total awesomeness of this universe but doesn't need someone around 24/7 either. Of course, I say that now. We could choose to be inseparable, for all I know.

Thing is, I'm not sure I know how to do this. I was with someone a long time. It wasn't perfect (what is?) but it was relatively stable. I guess a part of me decided, for good or whatever, that was it. When it was over...I don't know. How do you undo a decision you weren't even sure you made until it was taken away?

So here is my wish. I wish to learn how to let go of this thing that doesn't even exist anymore. I wish to learn how to let go so I can get on with living, loving and even more creative insanity.

This is my wish, I reckon so. (Heh. Thank you Josey Wales.)

The septagram - part one

(This is part of a series I'm writing for another site. I'm hoping posting it here will inspire me to finish it soon. I'm having trouble fitting some of the modern uses into this and will hopefully post them when they're done.)

Most Pagans are familiar with the pentagram. An outgrowth of this symbol is the septagram, a star with seven points. It is also known as the Faery Star, Elven Star, Elven Star of the Seven Sisters and acute heptagram. There are representations of it found in mathematics, paganism and even the subculture called Otherkin.

A Smattering of Math
Mathematically, the septagram is called the acute heptagram ("hepta-" being Greek for seven.) It belongs in a class of shapes called star polygons. They are usually represented by a fraction composed of prime numbers. In this case, the heptagram is known as a 7/3 star polygon. This simply means seven points are spaced evenly around the circumference of a circle and when drawn, the straight lines are connected at every third point. However, it is theoretically impossible to accurately draw a septagram with only a pencil and a straight edge, unlike the pentagram. Where the interior angles of a pentagram come to 36 degrees (180 degrees divided by 5), the interior angles of a septagram come to about 25.714 (180 divided by 7.)

Why seven?
There are as many reasons the number seven is sacred as there are people. One theory is it may have come about from the number of planets that could be observed in the ancient sky. It could also come from the seven observable stars of the pleiades, also called the Seven Sisters, or those seven stars that every child learns in the night sky called the Big Dipper. Another theory says the moon is responsible. It changes phase every seven days - from new to crescent, half, full and back to new again.

A Smattering of History
One of the oldest representations of the septagram is linked to the seven planets. It comes from the Hellenistic (circa 323 BC to about 146 BC) world This was a time of expansion for the Greeks, whose influence was felt from Italy to Egypt, the Middle East and Asia. During this time, the seven day week was widely adopted and each day was associated with a planet. The planets were placed in a counterclockwise circle in the order of the apparent speed of their travels across the sky, from Moon to Saturn. If a line is drawn from the point representing the Sun, not only does it form a septagram but also shows the days of the week in correct order.



The septagram makes another appearance during the Renaissance as an alchemical symbol. Usually seen reversed, or upside down, it was used to represent the seven recognized metals: lead, tin, iron, gold, copper, mercury and silver. Again, each metal was associated with one of known planets. It was also a depiction of the seven steps of the alchemical process: calcination, sublimation, solution, putrefaction, distillation, coagulation and tincture. Black (or "nigredo") was considered to be the starting point. As Saturn was the slowest moving planet in the sky, lead was considered by many alchemists to be the prima materia, or base material. With each step, impurities were supposed to be removed from the lead until all that was left was gold.



Upcoming posts: Modern uses of the Septagram and explorations into the meanings of the seven points - sun, land, water, magic, wind, moon and connection.

Sources (includes sources for info on some modern use as well):
Seven point star

Weisstein, Eric W. "Star Polygon." From MathWorld--A Wolfram Web Resource.

Weekday heptagram

The Metal - Planet Affinities - The Sevenfold Pattern

The Heptad, 7 from Numbers, Their Occult Power and Mystic Virtues, by W. Wynn Westcott, [1911]

Sublime Lead: The Biography of a 5000 Year Toxic Love Affair, Chap. 6 -
The Honeymoon: Lead and Alchemy: Decoding Chemistry Within the Imagery (pdf file)

an essay on the seven pointed star, by magpie

Blue Star Beliefs

Occult Rock

What Does the Star Mean?

A future tattoo

It needs a little tweaking but this is it. I think I'd like it to be on my left wrist...if I go through with it. I keep thinking, "what if it hurts more than I can stand?" and "What if I get tired of it? I know me, I get bored pretty easily..."

In any case, it's been fun coming up with it.

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.

Musing on the season finale of Supernatural

I don't talk too much about fannish things but this time...I can't help it. I should say there's spoilers ahead if you hadn't seen the season finale of Supernatural. There are a only a few things I'm going to comment on because I've only seen it the one time so far and there may be some things I get wrong. Feel free to correct me, if you are inclined.

First of all, the biggie - Chuck.

I don't think he was God. At least, not always. Until the finale, Chuck was a very unconfident person. He hated what he saw in his visions. He hated - and had plenty of troubles with - the process of writing it all down. He drank to forget, more often than not. Let's not forget how he was at the convention at the haunted hotel.

The Chuck we saw in the finale was none of this. He didn't even seem to be merely recording what he was seeing and there were no blinding headaches (if I remember correctly, this was a problem when we first met him last season.) He had no problem whatsoever writing the story. Rather, he seemed to be enjoying telling the story of the Impala and how it was intertwined with the Winchester brothers - and he was very confident in telling it. There was that one spot in the story where he even commented on how he liked how a certain line sounded.

The story itself was different in tone to previous ones. There was no pulp here. Just a story, lovingly told.

This Chuck was also drinking but he only sipped his alcohol - and did it quite properly, at that. There only seemed to be two fingers' worth in that glass. (On a side note, when Dean calls Chuck for information, was the call girl in the magazine named "Mary Magdalene"?)

So - was Chuck God? Like I said, I don't think he always was. Chuck was the Prophet and he did his job, however hard it was and miserable it made him. I think God stepped at the end. It was an act of compassion (mercy, even?) and reward for a thankless job well done. It also afforded God a way to intercede, using the Impala to spark Sam's memories of happier times and the love between the him and Dean. Besides, what was it He said? Endings were tough to get down.

On a side note: I don't think God was as heartless as it seemed when we found out He wouldn't be helping defeat Lucifer. We've known a long while that the last battle was supposed to be between Michael and Lucifer, both being angels created by God. We never expect a parent to choose between two of their children - so why is God expected to choose one of His over the other, even if one of those children has rebelled? So it's no wonder He didn't want to take sides.

Castiel

I wasn't surprised that Castiel got his Grace back. In fact, after last week's episode, I would have been surprised if he didn't. He may have fallen and eventually lost his mojo but he kept his faith. It wasn't his faith in God, but rather it was a faith that he, Sam, Dean and later, Bobby would somehow get through this.

I call it faith because that is what it is. Way back in the episode where Uriel wanted to wipe that town off the map, Castiel tells Dean his orders were to do whatever Dean ordered. He may have started out only following and protecting Dean but somewhere along the line, Dean did as Dean does and took him under his wing. Castiel became family. Faith in God is good and all but when it comes down to brass tacks, is there anything stronger on this earth than family bonds? After all, who else will stand by you or give you a good, hard and swift kick in the assbutt when you need it?

I think this is exactly what Cas took back with him when he went back to heaven. He says he's not sure if God will ever show up again but he figures with Michael gone, the place may be in chaos. He's gone home to sort out his "other" family, maybe even using what he's learned from his time with the Winchesters.

Bobby

So, has the contract between Bobby and Crowley been fulfilled? We never heard the details of the deal, did we? Crowley only said he would "borrow" Bobby's soul for a little while (and it seems to me that he knew a lot more than he let on in the previous episode, didn't it? Especially since he said to Dean, "How about we go for pizza when this is all over?" as they searched fruitlessly for Death.)

Anyway...I think the contract has been fulfilled. In past deals, the one making the deal always got a set number of years before they died and went to hell. As vague as Crowley's deal was, Bobby did die if only for a little while before Castiel brought him back.

Sam

I'm not sure what to make of Sam at the end. Was he a ghost, watching over Dean as he had dinner with Lisa and Ben? It would certainly be one possibility, since ghosts are able to mess with electrical systems. He wouldn't be needed in Hell since Lucifer had been re-caged and it wouldn't be impossible for him to get out, especially with a little help, like say from oh, God?

I don't know. It's going to kill me waiting to find out. :-)

Stories...

Geez. It's time to start blogging again. This poor thing has been neglected for long enough. I'll admit, it's partly due to that harlot Twitter. There's just something about fitting everything into 140 characters instead of writing an entire blog entry.

I want to get back to the original intent this thing. Don't get me wrong, I will (eventually) get back to posting my artwork. I just feel somewhere along the line I kind of forgot a few things, like "life, faith and gods know what else."

And stories. I've missed the stories.

Say whatever you want but to me, it's not love that makes the world go 'round. It's all the stories, running around looking for their entrance into this world, creating this crazy centrifugal force and BAM! There you go. Planets, stars and *everything* spinning and dancing around the universe.

...and I bet you thought it was something like 'gravity' and whatnot that set them spinning, didn't you? Well, there you go. One more story, as told in the Scientific Theory style of narration.

Is it ever right to lie about your path or aspects of it?

I usually don't feel the need to lie about any aspect of my path. I am not ashamed of it by any means and could care less about what anyone else thinks. Tonight was a little different. I bought some bourbon as an offering and the person I was with asked, "What are you going to do with that? Drink it or make something with it?"

In the past, I have answered honestly and it would be as if my words hit Teflon. The fact I follow a path other than Christianity simply does not and will not exist in this person's mind. Even though it can be irritating, it's something I can put up with, most of the time. After all, who am I to tell someone else what to think in the relative privacy of their own mind?

But tonight, I knew it would be more of the same and I was tired of it. So I lied. I remembered reading on a forum about some bourbon muffins someone made as an offering for a deity so that's what I said - I thought about trying some bourbon muffins (apparently, I'm a horrible liar and can't make a lie out of whole cloth. I need source material.)

Even as I was doing it, I didn't like the fact I was lying, much less what I was lying about. True, my answer wouldn't be accepted if I did tell the truth but does that matter? Not really, not in my mind.

So here's the question(s): Is it ever right to lie about your path? Am I just holding myself to too high a standard (and apparently failing)? Should I just get over myself, shut up and go watch Pepe the Prawn?