Hey, Readers,
A simple title this time, for a topic that is anything but.
A lot of things I'm about to say are not things I was planning on mentioning anytime soon, but would eventually. But now, I have to. So keep quiet about it so it doesn't spoil it when I go to talk about it later. =)
Showing posts with label memory. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memory. Show all posts
30 September, 2012
17 September, 2012
Passing Familiars
Hey, Readers,
This past week, my Wiccan friend from church (who really needs a nickname if I'm going to refer to her online) told me that her familiar passed. For once, I actually do know how she feels. My familiar passed away two summers ago. Though they passed from this world in drastically different ways, the two--both cats, by the bye--had very similar effects on us. I sent my friend the link to the memorial video I made for Mystery, as an example of part of how I dealt with the loss. I also performed a ritual for Mystery, and since her passing I have still included her in several rituals, honoring her at Samhain and so on. I also still see her.
At church on Sunday, my friend did appear visibly distressed. It was easier for me, though, actually understanding. So many times we try to comfort friends when we have no idea what they're going through. I still don't know my friend very well, and I didn't know her Zoey. But I know what it must have been like, because of Mystery.
My friend said that what I said about Mystery in my video, how she came into my life around the time I started practicing and left when I had started getting back into it seriously, somewhat applied to her timeline with Zoey. She was going through a really hard life transition at the time, and Zoey was a comfort. We're not sure what it is about her path now that may parallel the reason Mystery left me, if there is a reason similar for her, but she does hope that, as I see it, Zoey was called back in order to help someone else who needs her more.
I made my memorial video for Mystery in order to help people know her more. I don't know much about Zoey, but at least you can know what I know, and keep her memory alive. Zoey loved to help my friend smudge the circle. She would follow her around the circle as it was cleansed. She was also quite selfless, always being there to comfort my friend. Even when Zoey was sick, I'm told, she would curl up on my friend's lap to comfort her. "Here she is comforting me, because I'm crying because she's sick! And I'm like, you're the one who's sick, I should be comforting you!" We hope Zoey is providing that kind of comfort for someone else now.
During the service, my friend had written in the Book of Joys and Cares to be read out loud to the congregation that the family cat had passed away. The person serving that day said "I don't know the cat's name, she didn't write it here, but I'm sure the cat was well loved and will be missed." An old man seated in front of us, who clearly didn't know he was so near the person whose Care was read, leaned over to the person next to him and said "The cat doesn't know it's name, either! Haha!" The next part of the service was the Silent Lighting of Candles, where we light a candle to mark a special event, remember a loved one, or "because we feel moved by a deep reason to do so." As we stood up, my friend tapped the man on the shoulder, and when he looked up at her, said, "Her name was Zoey."
I had been planning on lighting my candle for Mystery. I lit it for that man, instead. And for anyone who would see fit to poke fun at someone's loss. Perhaps people think a cat is not a significant loss, since most losses read to the congregation are of human family members and friends. But to us, whose lives have been changed and aided by these, our beautiful, magickal creature-friends... They are extremely significant.
A candle for Zoey.
A candle for Mystery.
A candle for Ignorance.
A candle for Bliss.
Blessings~
-C-
This past week, my Wiccan friend from church (who really needs a nickname if I'm going to refer to her online) told me that her familiar passed. For once, I actually do know how she feels. My familiar passed away two summers ago. Though they passed from this world in drastically different ways, the two--both cats, by the bye--had very similar effects on us. I sent my friend the link to the memorial video I made for Mystery, as an example of part of how I dealt with the loss. I also performed a ritual for Mystery, and since her passing I have still included her in several rituals, honoring her at Samhain and so on. I also still see her.
At church on Sunday, my friend did appear visibly distressed. It was easier for me, though, actually understanding. So many times we try to comfort friends when we have no idea what they're going through. I still don't know my friend very well, and I didn't know her Zoey. But I know what it must have been like, because of Mystery.
My friend said that what I said about Mystery in my video, how she came into my life around the time I started practicing and left when I had started getting back into it seriously, somewhat applied to her timeline with Zoey. She was going through a really hard life transition at the time, and Zoey was a comfort. We're not sure what it is about her path now that may parallel the reason Mystery left me, if there is a reason similar for her, but she does hope that, as I see it, Zoey was called back in order to help someone else who needs her more.
I made my memorial video for Mystery in order to help people know her more. I don't know much about Zoey, but at least you can know what I know, and keep her memory alive. Zoey loved to help my friend smudge the circle. She would follow her around the circle as it was cleansed. She was also quite selfless, always being there to comfort my friend. Even when Zoey was sick, I'm told, she would curl up on my friend's lap to comfort her. "Here she is comforting me, because I'm crying because she's sick! And I'm like, you're the one who's sick, I should be comforting you!" We hope Zoey is providing that kind of comfort for someone else now.
During the service, my friend had written in the Book of Joys and Cares to be read out loud to the congregation that the family cat had passed away. The person serving that day said "I don't know the cat's name, she didn't write it here, but I'm sure the cat was well loved and will be missed." An old man seated in front of us, who clearly didn't know he was so near the person whose Care was read, leaned over to the person next to him and said "The cat doesn't know it's name, either! Haha!" The next part of the service was the Silent Lighting of Candles, where we light a candle to mark a special event, remember a loved one, or "because we feel moved by a deep reason to do so." As we stood up, my friend tapped the man on the shoulder, and when he looked up at her, said, "Her name was Zoey."
I had been planning on lighting my candle for Mystery. I lit it for that man, instead. And for anyone who would see fit to poke fun at someone's loss. Perhaps people think a cat is not a significant loss, since most losses read to the congregation are of human family members and friends. But to us, whose lives have been changed and aided by these, our beautiful, magickal creature-friends... They are extremely significant.
Side Note: After that, I did spend a moment during our meditation manifesting a bundle of positive energy, both for her situation as well as for the man who made the comment, and for the congregation at large. I have always done this and felt that it works but it's only a feeling of mine. But my friend turned to me during a silent moment and said, "Thank you for the positive energy. I can feel that." I've never had confirmation like that, and she doesn't even know I needed it. I didn't know I needed it. But it helped. And so we help each other.
A candle for Zoey.
A candle for Mystery.
A candle for Ignorance.
A candle for Bliss.
Blessings~
-C-
22 August, 2012
Missing England
Hey, Readers!
Before I get to the bulk of this post, I wanted to say that I did go to Lily Dale last Saturday, and I do have a video to post from it, but the video is 20 minutes long of HD footage, so I'm having trouble uploading it. Please be patient while I get it posted as soon as I can--I know you're DYING to see it! I just have less time throughout the day to try uploading it multiple times, since I now work days.
----------------------------
I've started reading a little novel called BLITZCAT by Robert Westall. It's about a black cat named Lord Gort who makes her way through wartime in search of her person, her human master, using psi-trailing. In other words, Lord Gort can sense where her person is. She senses home. When she starts heading there, she feels a change in her person's location, realizing he's moved, and so on. Thus she goes, from place to place in England, following her master's trail and finding new, temporary masters along the way.
The places mentioned in the novel so far, other than London, are basically all farther north than I traveled. The book does not mention anywhere I actually visited besides London, at least not yet. But even though the exact locations differ, the feeling is profoundly familiar to me.
When Mrs. Smiley and Sergeant Smith are up on a hill and the description talks about being so high up that they felt they were on top of the world, and so high up that the farms below look like toy farms, with toy farmers and toy sheep, I go back in my mind to Glastonbury Tor. I do want to write a whole post about my experience on the Tor eventually, but I wanted to wait until all my videos were up and I'm only about 1/3 done editing all those videos. Still, the simple feeling of being above it all, so high up, thinking how small the things are below and how big the world is, takes me there. The steep climb that made our legs strain and stretch, even those of us who are "in shape," the rain that started to fall, the goats on the hillside, and the elation when we reached the top. The rainbow. The little girl in the popply yarn hat that stood with me in the rain, our arms outstretched. The sound of my classmates and professor singing a song from our course-packet. My nerdy excitement while telling my classmates about leylines and energy, the energy that surged through me, the apple I ate in the rain in the name of Avalon. All of it. All of that from being so high up that sheep below look unreal.
And the WINDS. The novel describes winds blowing cool and strong, wavering the treetops and ruffling clothing and hair, and I am in Uffington. I am sick, I am crying, I am devastated that I may not get to walk to the smithy in my nervous, stomach-trouble-laden condition. I am frustrated. I am bored. I am tired. The White Horse looks at me, unconcerned, going about its day in the chalk hills. I want to get out of there. I have to walk sideways up the hill to avoid being toppled over by the current of air, constant, over the hills. I am crying, but there are no tears. They have all been blown away. Then, suddenly, a rush. Something I will not describe as air, nor as wind, but specifically, awefully, and reverently as the Winds of Uffington. I have never felt winds so strong that were not threatening a storm. I quite literally had to lean forward and stay standing sideways to the wind to prevent being blown down the hill. All my classmates and friends were jumping, hands holding coats outstretched, making believe they could fly. I didn't dare. But I did face the wind, eventually, and let it blow through me. Cold, weak, sickly me. I felt better. Distracted. My classmates lined up for a photo and reached for me, taking me up alongside them. We formed a wall against the wind, which pushed us backward so that we had to dig our feet in and hold on tight. I didn't feel well at all, but I felt good. Those are the winds I remember like old friends. Though others may remind you of them, they can never be the same.
Strange, that a book, or a garden, or a meal can make you think of a place like that. Strange that I remember certain emotions so strongly tied to a place. A hill. One moment.
It's times like these that make me want to put on my rain coat, find a good tree to sit under, and sip tea in the rain.
Blessings~
-C-
Before I get to the bulk of this post, I wanted to say that I did go to Lily Dale last Saturday, and I do have a video to post from it, but the video is 20 minutes long of HD footage, so I'm having trouble uploading it. Please be patient while I get it posted as soon as I can--I know you're DYING to see it! I just have less time throughout the day to try uploading it multiple times, since I now work days.
----------------------------
I've started reading a little novel called BLITZCAT by Robert Westall. It's about a black cat named Lord Gort who makes her way through wartime in search of her person, her human master, using psi-trailing. In other words, Lord Gort can sense where her person is. She senses home. When she starts heading there, she feels a change in her person's location, realizing he's moved, and so on. Thus she goes, from place to place in England, following her master's trail and finding new, temporary masters along the way.
The places mentioned in the novel so far, other than London, are basically all farther north than I traveled. The book does not mention anywhere I actually visited besides London, at least not yet. But even though the exact locations differ, the feeling is profoundly familiar to me.
When Mrs. Smiley and Sergeant Smith are up on a hill and the description talks about being so high up that they felt they were on top of the world, and so high up that the farms below look like toy farms, with toy farmers and toy sheep, I go back in my mind to Glastonbury Tor. I do want to write a whole post about my experience on the Tor eventually, but I wanted to wait until all my videos were up and I'm only about 1/3 done editing all those videos. Still, the simple feeling of being above it all, so high up, thinking how small the things are below and how big the world is, takes me there. The steep climb that made our legs strain and stretch, even those of us who are "in shape," the rain that started to fall, the goats on the hillside, and the elation when we reached the top. The rainbow. The little girl in the popply yarn hat that stood with me in the rain, our arms outstretched. The sound of my classmates and professor singing a song from our course-packet. My nerdy excitement while telling my classmates about leylines and energy, the energy that surged through me, the apple I ate in the rain in the name of Avalon. All of it. All of that from being so high up that sheep below look unreal.
 |
| Me, walking up Glastonbury Tor. Taken by Sarah. |
 |
| Sarah & me on Glastonbury Tor, with rainbow. |
And the WINDS. The novel describes winds blowing cool and strong, wavering the treetops and ruffling clothing and hair, and I am in Uffington. I am sick, I am crying, I am devastated that I may not get to walk to the smithy in my nervous, stomach-trouble-laden condition. I am frustrated. I am bored. I am tired. The White Horse looks at me, unconcerned, going about its day in the chalk hills. I want to get out of there. I have to walk sideways up the hill to avoid being toppled over by the current of air, constant, over the hills. I am crying, but there are no tears. They have all been blown away. Then, suddenly, a rush. Something I will not describe as air, nor as wind, but specifically, awefully, and reverently as the Winds of Uffington. I have never felt winds so strong that were not threatening a storm. I quite literally had to lean forward and stay standing sideways to the wind to prevent being blown down the hill. All my classmates and friends were jumping, hands holding coats outstretched, making believe they could fly. I didn't dare. But I did face the wind, eventually, and let it blow through me. Cold, weak, sickly me. I felt better. Distracted. My classmates lined up for a photo and reached for me, taking me up alongside them. We formed a wall against the wind, which pushed us backward so that we had to dig our feet in and hold on tight. I didn't feel well at all, but I felt good. Those are the winds I remember like old friends. Though others may remind you of them, they can never be the same.
 |
| Our class group on the site of Uffington Castle. |
Strange, that a book, or a garden, or a meal can make you think of a place like that. Strange that I remember certain emotions so strongly tied to a place. A hill. One moment.
It's times like these that make me want to put on my rain coat, find a good tree to sit under, and sip tea in the rain.
Blessings~
-C-
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