Definition of Self by a Single Word

This used to be a post on another blog I used to have, done a few years ago, but with all the drama concerning someone saying on G+ that they don't like the term pagan, I wanted to bring it over:

I was approached by a gentleman today as I was working.  I can't recall how the conversation got started, but somewhere in the middle we started talking about religious fundamentalists.  Most people are aware of them, know them, some of course are them.  Our particular discussion was focused on how there are some people out there, that introduce themselves with their religion hanging on their sleeve.  "Hello, I'm Vera.  I live in the area and I go to _____ church."  Or even a more blunt approach, "Hi, I'm Anthony and a Christian".  There's not really any small talk, there's just a huge verbal punch to the face of what lies in their personal life.

This type of introduction doesn't happen often, and more often than not this comes out over the first few minutes rather than directly after the hello.  But it still seems like a growing number of people are just "nuts" over their faith.  Whether Pagan or Christian or Scientology or any other faith out there.  There are many that will back up their enthusiasm by insisting that their proclamation is just an exuberant outpouring of their emotions of love and devotion to their faith.  There is nothing wrong with being excited about your faith; in fact if you're not excited about your faith, I suggest a switch.  But the problem comes in with during an introduction...what kind of message are we really portraying.

To help illustrate this, the gentleman asked me to pick a single word that best describes me...that gives the best description it can.  He told me my first choice, "human", was an obvious but good.  The same went for "unique".  After thinking for a while, I finally settled on "creative".  He asked me why I didn't choose what religion I was for a description.  The answer seemed simple to me, saying "I'm a Pagan" really doesn't explain anything about me other than I don't go to church and sing Jesus songs.  As much as being Pagan is a part of who I am, without a doubt.  It says nothing about me, other than maybe I like trees.

Just saying, "I'm Pagan" says nothing at all. 

I've heard a lot of times that your religion, or what you do for work, is what defines you.  What ever that word may be; Catholic, Democrat, doctor, writer, Wiccan, engineer, plumber.  But does it truly give someone an accurate insight into who you are?  Does saying "I'm ____ and I'm a Christian" really say anything to who you are?  I've met some of the most obnoxious, bigoted, ignorant, cruel-hearted, self-indulgent, self-righteous, asinine, and prejudiced people that are Christian (or at least claim it.  And most of them use that same introduction funny enough).  I've also met some of them that don't really follow it closely, they just kinda go through the motions.  There's also some of the nicest, open, friendly, loving, educational, and warm people that have been Christian.  There's a whole spectrum.  Of course one could argue the semantics and say that only the devout are Christian and bla bla bla...but that is taking away from the argument of what is the meaning when it is used as a descriptive word and putting it into ideal situations that don't work in real situations.  The fact comes back to...it means nothing but that is the name of the religion you've chosen. 

If I had said "pagan", would that mean I'm a feminist who is upset that she missed out on the hippie days?  Would it mean that I am initiated into a British Tradition?  Would it mean that I'm either lesbian or bi-sexual, up for casual sex and wish we all lived in a nudist colony?  Would it mean I haven't gotten rid of my angst as a teenager watching The Craft and Practical Magic.  Would it even mean that I'm spiritual?  Would it mean I just like to be different, love animals, am vegan, have a big family, and trustworthy, pessimistic, animistic???

What if I had used "artist", being as that is what I do for a lot of my time.  It doesn't say anything about what kind of art I do, it could mean anything from throwing paint at a canvas, to scrapbooking, to carving, to photography, to coloring in a coloring book.  It doesn't mean much at all if you really look at it as a descriptive word.
But I used creative.  Creative because it doesn't stem to just my art when I'm trying to make the paint do what I want, or carve away the excess stone that hides a sleeping coyote.  Creativity doesn't just mean my enjoyment of troubleshooting maintenance tasks around the house.  It's not just the love of color.  Creative explains many different aspects of my life.  I enjoy finding a different way to solve a problem.  I enjoy improvising when the task requires it.  Whether it's trying to figure out an artistic medium, organizing papers, or trying the limits of communication skills during a heated argument.  I am creative.
I like to find different ways of looking at situations; different ways to explain them too.  I like pushing the limits of artistic medium to see if I can make it do what I want.  I like to use broken things to make new, beautiful things.  I like the challenge of figuring out how to teach a complex idea to a child.
All of that has nothing at all to do with me being Pagan.  Yet it is such a huge aspect of who I am on so many different levels.  Even with me being an artist, I am not creative because I am an artist; I am an artist through my creativity.
So what are you?  Optimistic, driven, outgoing, ornery, stationary. liberal?
Or will you be so comfortable with fitting into the boxes that society has made for you, that you'll use your religion or your profession to define you?

Words have meaning, of course they do.  Without that meaning we wouldn't be able to communicate with each other.  But what do we gain for ourselves by constantly hacking at the meaning of the titles that we define ourselves by?

I've come to find myself torn on this subject. For a long while I had a time where I had a personal "beef" with the term Pagan.  There's so much drama and silliness surrounding the general Pagan community, it can make it hard to feel inclusive for someone that doesn't fit in the majority crowd. But I think we should also expect this from a new movement. There's always whispers that while the separate paths may be old, Pagan paths in the mainstream society is on a new upswing when considering the whole time frame. I think it is the natural way of things that at first everyone held the illusion of being closer to reach a common goal...now we have the opportunity to branch out because the smaller groups are becoming more in number. Simple way of human people.

However, there are many times where I think choosing to change the name is just something to make the individual feel better. It is not enough for the individual to know they are true to their path in their hearts, they must find a way to let others know they are not "THOSE" people. We can look at Christian history and see the same thing. Oh, we're not Catholic...we're Lutheran, we're Episcopalian, we're Baptist...basically we're not THOSE PEOPLE...we are different. Yet from the outside looking in one can look and say "Yes, you are all different but you are all Christian" Does it matter than one sect doesn't accept another for being Christian? Nope, not really...it's all inner politics that are only important to those emotionally invested. There are countless times I've heard mention of the silly inner politics of that very subject in conversations amongst Pagans. But while Pagans can laugh at the and say "Silly Christians, you're all basically the same but with tiny differences" they are infuriated and offended we don't see that those differences are HUGE in their world. I wonder...is it the same in the Pagan community? Are we too busy looking at the butterfly that we don't even notice the tree let alone the whole forest?

I'll be the first to say it's annoying at best to be thought of immediately as Wiccan or neo-pagan when the term Pagan is thrown out there. I don't like the way the average Pagan does things, it is so far from my realm of being; sometimes so much so it infuriates me enough to not want to associate with them at all.  I have felt, often, that we need some way to identify ourselves without giving a whole speech on what we are or are not. I'm not a Native practitioner, I walk with Coyote. I don't generally do group ritual or holiday celebrations, I walk next to Nebet Het and her family. Does that make me not Pagan? As much as I can not care for the word, or would like to depart from it and all the baggage it includes, I don't know. Would it separate me into a smaller classification by using a term Polytheistic? Possibly. But right now, sometimes I wonder if we're just in the stage where we are growing as a whole and these are our growing pains, and while some use it for classification there are others that are considering it to be more a way to be not "THOSE" people over there. We have seen it with the neo-pagan, new age, and pagan terms just as it was seen with the bazillion spellings of magic.

Rarely have I seen someone change the name of their belief system to be something productive.  That's not to say that classification isn't productive, but in the Pagan community...I've mostly seen ways to point out that that individual is higher than the others on the experience ladder, or maybe the knowledge ladder, or whatever ladder you want to throw there. 

But I think it goes back to my old writings.  There are so many aspects of one's self, so many words that one can use...for a person to focus on just one and cling to that for dear life as if that defines them because it is their religion.  What religion you practice...only matters in that much detail to you.  Even claiming Polytheist...that really doesn't tell me who you are or what you practice.  It just tells me what word you prefer.  I may assume you're more enlightened and knowledgeable in your faith because you cling to a more accurate word...or I may assume that you're just looking for attention and a gold star for the day.  I have friends that use Polytheist that are amazing people, and I know people that have started using Polytheist that I've had some really horrible experiences with that I hope to never associate with again.  

Are we that insecure about who we are that we need to bicker over who is Pagan, who isn't, and who is in the cool club and calls themselves by another name?  Similar to a comment by Deirdre Hebert...it's like saying I'm not Caucasian, I'm Russian, Lithuanian and Native because I don't want to be associated with any other races that are light skinned.  Sure, it may narrow down a classification...but does it help you understand any?  Not really, except you may assume I really dislike those other people.
 

Writing To The Dead

I was asked not too long ago by a friend of mine, "If you write a letter and burn it, will the deceased actually get it?"

As I tried to explain, I had thought I should write this down somewhere!  I don't have your typical "Book of Shadows" or "Dream Journal", or whatever it is a normal pagan does.  Maybe I should start one, but that is another post for another time.  So back to the topic at hand...will the dead actually receive your letter?

Depends on what you are meaning.  Will the soul of the person you knew get the message that you want to pass on to them?  Yes.  Will the soul of the person you knew get an exact copy of the letter you wrote on the "other side", be able to sit down and open the envelope?  No.  While it is awfully romantic to think of your dearly departed holding the letter in their hands and smiling at your handwriting...they are not going to literally get your letter.

So then what's the point?  If they don't get a copy of the letter, what's the point in writing one in the first place?!  Wouldn't it do the same thing if the words were just spoken out loud?

Well, writing a letter and burning it may not be as useless as it may seem.  There's two different aspects that I look at in this situation, and both are equally important.  You have the mental aspect and the metaphysical aspect; both will be touched on as I go further into details.

When you write something down, you are performing a very simple form of magic.  You are taking an idea and giving it a physical form on the paper.  It is said that words have power, and they do, but it is not the letters nor the sound that the word has that gives it its power.  It is the meaning that those letters convey.  For example, a couple of 'g's, an 'r' and an 'i', an 'e' and an 'n', can either spell ginger or a racial slur that begins with 'n'.  This does not mean those letters have complex power, but the idea those letters represent when formed into words.  I'll have to do another entry on the power of word later on sometime, but for now our focus is the fact you now has a physical form to what you are trying to convey to a soul that is no longer in reach.  But hidden in that point is that just because writing a letter can be considered magic does not mean you have to find a strict template to construct your letter.  While the words are important, they are second in this process.  This is much different from talking to the wind, your words still carry emotion and therefore energy/power behind them.  But when you are in the process of writing a letter, all of that becomes much more focused.  It is the difference between a finely forged blade and one quickly hammered from a rail road spike.  Both can get the job done and there are plenty of other variables.  Just as a blade made from a rail road spike can be finished to look attractive and hold a fine edge, if your gift is in speaking so that it easily moves others into action than perhaps speaking your message is a better route for you.  Similarly, one can forge a blade that is crooked, bent, and fractures easily; if you write a letter like you write a Twitter message you may be missing the point.

Writing a physical letter also helps mentally with closure.  When those we love die, there are a million different things we wish we had said to them or wish they could have been here to share with us.  When we speak it is often with the expectation that someone will answer us.  In the best case we are standing face to face with someone. In today's age, unfortunately most communication takes place across the vast network of communication devices we have at our disposal.  Either way, when we speak to another person we are expecting some kind of reply; to hear a voice responding back.  Even if we consciously know that person is not there, our brains still try and play out a conversation.  Reflect back on a time when you try to plan a confrontation with a friend.  Most will go over words that they think they may say, and their minds fill in the rest of how they believe that person will respond.  Some are gifted in spirit communication and this is not an issue, only you will know if this variable will be a hindrance to you.

The act of sending a letter; writing said letter, addressing an envelope, sending it on its way, ect...  We hope for a reply, but we are assuming that our letters get to their destination.  This is how we send Holiday cards, packages, and even our bills (at least we used to!).  We've learned that when a letter goes out...it goes to who it needs to.  You have the ability to say what is in your heart, and get it out knowing that the message is sent, but also the comfort of feeling it is going 'somewhere'.  Writing to the deceased in this manner allows for the comfort of the mind and soul, even if they're not going to be opening an envelope and smiling at your handwriting.

I had stated writing is one of the simplest forms of magic, and this is important because you don't have to concentrate as a complicated ritual demands your concentration.  Emotions have enough power on their own, and you are giving them form by putting pen to paper.  Consider this the first half of a 'spell' or ritual, or whatever term you wish to give to it.  Write everything you want to say.  Screw the overly formal writing...write as you want them to receive it.  Let this be an accurate representation of what you want to send out, not some watered down, structured, bla bla bla.  This, however, does not mean you are encouraged to be a belligerent cur because you're too lazy to be respectful.  Didn't you ever hear "If you're not going to say anything nice, don't say anything at all"?  I'm FAR from light and rainbows, but if you're writing because you love someone and you miss them...try to at least have some courtesy.  I had mentioned don't write it like a Twitter status; there should be some level of balance between the idea of writing as you being a disrespectful twat because that's how you act all the time...and performing a respectful act of magic.

Not only is this going to be the first have of your ritual, but your brain is getting all of that emotional gunk that's weighing you down out!  It may feel heavy as you write, but just wait till after it is all over.  Our brains like to go over things, and over, and over, and over.  The grieving process can be a bit like insanity in the way our brains are working at the time, they do things that is out of the normal.  While I'm not usually a fan of "If it feels good it must be good" logic, this is one case where it is applicable.  It will help a great deal if there are many things plaguing your thoughts to help get them out so you can resume your daily activities.  Grieving takes a long time, it is why they call it a process.  But there is on reason you can't gently help it along.

The second half is addressing your letter and sending it off.  Whether this be by fire, by ocean, by river, by burial, by whatever means you choose.  On the metaphysical side of things, you are releasing the energy (so all of your message directed at your deceased loved one) to do what it is meant to do. If you're doing any other kind of energy work, what good is it to pull up a bunch of energy for a purpose and then just let it sit there?  It's like a surgeon going "YES! We got her open, I have the liver replacement on standby, all my tools are ready...I'm going to lunch"

On the more psychological side of things, I had discussed how beneficial it is to use this form of 'communication' above...this is only good if you have a way of sending it.  You can't fool your brain into thinking they got your letter if you have it up on your alter and look at it every day.  You're brain is going to say "Hey Stupid...um...aren't you gonna send that? OMG THEY CAN NEVER READ IT AGAIN!!!" Instead of it being a form of closure, it becomes an uncomfortable reminder that they're no longer in this world.  So send it!  Let it go where it needs to go!  If it makes you feel better to envision them getting the physical letter...hey...go for it.  Whatever you need to let it go.

***Please remember to use biodegradable materials if you are subjecting the rest of nature to your work.  While the laminated glitter stationary can be pretty, don't throw it in the ocean so it chokes a sea turtle.***

Jumping Spider Pounces...Kind Of

Yet another spider encounter in my really strange vision style of dreams.  I have never been fond of spiders.  They leap out at the worst possible times...I was thoroughly convinced that they had it in for me. I have gotten used to them after I moved to the OBX.  We get more large spiders here than back home in Pennsylvania.  Grass spiders in my bathroom sink, garden spiders the size of a ping pong ball chilling on the oleander off my porch, orb weavers making 2 1/2 foot webs to catch people if they go walking at night, and jumpers the size of quarters living on my screen doors.

I forget how the dream started out, I just know it was a "normal" style of dream. Somewhere along the line I was in the woods, though not ones that were familiar to me. The forest floor wasn't green with ferns or grass, it was pretty barren. The trees were tall and wide. It was there I met a jumping spider that was large enough that it's eyes were about the size of your average dinner plate. Okay, maybe a little smaller, but I could still see the iris of it...way too big for my liking.  At least with it being that big I could tell it was a jumper.  Their eyes are kind of tell-tale if you're familiar with them.  The iridescent fangs kind of gave it away too, but still...seeing a jumper that could probably take you down without a problem, well...it was unsettling.

Jumpers are amazing, they're the only spider family that I'm cool with.  The phidippus is my favorite, a female phidippus otisis is the spider that I got a shot of at the top of my entry here.  Normally their curious and friendly.  However, imagine facing one that could be stalking you, and the feeling may not be so friendly to start off.  It looked like a phidippus audax, at least that's the closest I can come up with.

It was never a bad feeling that I got off of this guy.  I never felt sick to my stomach or like my insides were screaming that this is bad.  He was just large.  His pedipalps kept moving over his chelicerae, but there was no other movement really.  I had hoped this meant I was in good terms, as I assumed if I was metaphysical lunch he would have jumped at me by now.  He was a ways away, but even at maybe 15 yards, he was still too close for comfort.  He abruptly started a dialog, though I couldn't tell you whether the voice came from the spider or in my own head.  It seemed to whisper from several directions, though his chelicarae moved a lot when he was "speaking".  It went something like this, S will be the easy way to reference Spider
S: You are healer

Me: No, I have healing tendencies, I am no healer.

S: You are heeeeealer

Me: No, I have not had training to become a healer, I only know some things.

S: *his pedidae groom the chelicarae* You are healer.  Some things are older than traditions.

Me: Is there something you need me to do?  I can do what I can...

S: You say only tendencies, but you are healer.  We are old, know healing before you, we teaching healing.  You are healer.

The "conversation" goes on like this back and forth for a while.  He kept going back to 'you don't need training, you already do what you're supposed to' kind of idea.  I kept insisting that I have no idea what he's talking about that I can do little things but it's not where I'm at yet.

While it was very intense to be confronted by a monstrous jumping spider...I'm not sure if there's something to do about this or not.  For now, I'll just let it ride.

White Wolf

This dream started as a fairly normal dream.  I don't remember that much of the beginning to be honest.  There was some sort of festival, a guy on a funny bike, and it looked like suburbia.  The feeling changed, it's hard to describe, I just remember thinking to myself that I needed to pay attention because something didn't feel right.  Not necessarily bad, but it was very different.

There was an attractive man on a bike riding towards me.  He was thin but athletic, slightly taller than me but not at 6ft, dark blonde hair that was messy and long in the front, a "pretty boy" type look to his face, and striking blue eyes.  He came up to me and started talking about "The Situation of Things and People".  I'm not quite sure what he was referring to, and I guess my confusion showed because he stopped mid-conversation, looked at me and said that he had something to show me.  This whole time, I was not comfortable.  It wasn't that he felt bad, malicious, aggressive, or any negative adjective other than...just uncomfortable.

He smiled a lot, and seemed very carefree.  When I hesitated, he asked if there was anyone I wanted to take with me.  He didn't seem as if he was agitated at having to suggest it, or annoyed that I jumped at the chance.  It didn't bother him when I had wanted to bring my partner, Branden, along.  He just seemed happy...the whole time.  He even called Branden on his cell phone and said for him to meet us.  Though I have no idea how he had Branden's number, he showed up within just a few minutes of the call but slightly dazed as if he had just woken up.

We were led down to his house that was down in a valley.  There was a beautiful garden, and butterflies fluttering all around the flowers.  He had a greenhouse in the back where we entered that was full of exotic plants as well as simple vegetables.  It truly was a beautiful place.

Inside was just as well kept, but I hardly got a chance to look before my feet were swarmed with little white puffballs that were making a happy sounding mewling whine.  "Aww," I heard from behind me, "See? They already like you."  When I turned to look at the owner of the house what stood in his place was a white wolf with amber eyes.

The wolf smiled up at me (as much as a wolf smiles), and before I could process any of it, more wolves of different stages of youth came bounding out of the other rooms.  Most of them were still pups, but there were a few young adults it seemed.  They played with each other, cuddled with me and tried to play, sniffed me and yapped.  He told me that they were all lost, and that it was time for them to have direction in their lives.  I asked where their mother was, "Oh, they have parents," he sounded amused, "but that has little to do with why they are lost." I turned back to him and he was a man, yet again.  He told me that it was about time for me to step up and start doing what needs done.  He spoke of responsibility and teaching and learning.

"Oh," I told him, "but I am a Coyote.  I could never work with Wolf Medicine.  I have friends that work with Wolf Medicine, I bring a different aspect to the table.  I don't want to be in charge anyway, I am very happy being outside a pack."  He picked up a tiny little puffball pup and looked at me, smiling.  We stood there for some time.

"Wolf friends, huh?"  The way he asked sounded as if he didn't believe me...or at the very least I shouldn't believe it.  He gave a deep "hmm" and continued to smile.  "Well, they have already decided to adopt you, so whether you are a Coyote or you are not, welcome to the pack".  His smile broadened, he handed me the pup, and clasped me on the back.  I awoke directly after.

I've never felt a kinship with wolves.  While everyone I knew was fawning over them and claiming them as their spirit animal, I stuck to my red-tailed hawk and my snakes.  Even later in life I work with Coyote more than I ever have worked with Wolves.  I told this experience to a friend who is well learned in the ways of animal medicine and her interpretation is that it is time for me to accept Wolf and that I have become a teacher without realizing it.  Whether this is true, or not...I'm sure time will show a clearer picture.  Either way...it was strange.  I'm not sure I am ready to fully admit to having Wolf Medicine anywhere in my life because in my mind...it would make my relationships more complicated.

Moth Medicine

So much of my previous posts have been focusing on dreams that I think I've gotten a bit distracted by real world encounters.  I still have dreams to put up, but until then I've had a strange couple of days and I figured the best thing to do was to share.

I live in a place where part of the woods are still wild.  There are all sorts of creatures roaming around.  Though one morning I awoke to a huge moth sitting on my porch.

He was absolutely beautiful, so after I take a photo, because I am part Coyote in nature, I have to poke at him.  He takes this opportunity to rest on my hand for a few moments.  I try and shake him off because I need to get to work, but no luck.  So I say the hell with it and walk over to work...carrying this huge moth.  You would think he would fly away at this point.  Nope, just stayed where he was.  I got a few nice photos of him while he was keeping me company though.

Shortly after I get some decent photos he flies to my shoulder and rests there.  He's quite comfortable I assume for he stayed there the whole day.  I don't mean while I was at work, I mean the whole day.  I worked a full day, took two walks around the neighborhood, cooked dinner, did several loads of laundry, ate dinner and read a few chapters of a really awful book.  The only time he moved was when I accidentally whopped him with a tank top and he fluttered away in agitation before returning to my right breast side.  I found out later he was a Pandora Sphinx Moth.

When I was about ready to go to bed he flew up to the smoke detector by my bedroom door and refused to move.  So I prayed he wouldn't get attacked by one of the cats and headed off to bed.

In the morning, there he was, just moved a bit so he was on my purse instead of the smoke detector.  As soon as I put my purse on to go off to work he stepped onto my right breast side and got comfortable over the pocket of my shirt.  So what the heck, I took him to work for the second day.  Same as before, he sat there calmly as I made pouches and talked to all of the visitors to the museum.  The only moving he did was to migrate towards my shoulder.  I got a lot of compliments on him once people realized he was an actual moth instead of a brooch.

But that night was to be the last time he would be around.  At almost exactly 36 hours from when he first landed on me he went into death throes.  He fell off my shoulder and clung to my fingers for a good hour and a half.  I was strangely heartbreaking for him to pass.  Logically, I know that he was just a moth.  Granted, a really huge moth made of awesomeness, but just a moth.

But in a different light, he didn't feel like just a moth.  He knew he wanted to be with me, and refused to go anywhere, even on the brink of death.

I have him sitting on a paper towel in the living room right now.  He's dry and is sitting as if he's ready to crawl around.  It's kind of disturbing to the neighbors for some reason.  I am hoping to have him preserved somehow so I can keep him as he obviously had a bit of a message.

To top all of this off, another moth landed on me the next day after coming home from work.  This wasn't a Pandora, this was a Tersa Sphinx moth.  Now this one didn't stay for nearly as long, just about an hour before flying to a tree outside of my front door.  But something was definitely going on.

But what is the message exactly?  In a generic sense, moth medicine is all about sensitivity.  The biology of a moth is specifically tuned to pick up on vibrations and miniscule scents. It's about tuning into what most people would ignore.  Moths are also symbols of change as they go from caterpillar, to cocoon, to moth.  Some say they are omens of death.

Here's my take on it from a more personal stand point.  A good bit of the animal medicine that has come to me has some level of trickery or camouflage.  Snake, Coyote, Spider, Owl, Praying Mantis...

As much as moth is about being connected, take a look at the size of that moth...they're HUGE.  But how many times have you seen one?  They're out all the time, they're really common but this is the first time I've ever seen one.  I feel that part of Moth's Medicine isn't just being connected, but not using your sensitivity to push your weight around.  You can still be who you are, and fulfill your purpose in the world without being in the full spotlight.  The thing about being sensitive to things is that the Moth is also very delicate, even for its size.  So for sensitive people, sometimes having everyone know that you're sensitive can be just as damaging to one's self as having someone pick up a moth by the wings.

I do feel that changes are coming, and if I am to honor Moth and need to pay more attention to those feelings instead of just brushing them off and waiting for others to notice before I speak up.  More importantly, I need to embrace the fact that I am connected to the unseen...even if it often makes things uncomfortable or awkward.   The medicine of Moth is also to roll with change, rather than stay a caterpillar forever.  So here we go, it's time to open up some wings and see if there's a breeze!

Black Widow comes to visit

Now this was brought on by my partner finding a black widow that was apparently living quite happily behind the bedroom curtain above his head.  She was fat, happy, had a nice collection of fly bodies.  We...however...were not.  Black widow has always, at least to both of us, been seen as really bad.  You hear about the bites, and how they hide.

Telling a few friends about it, they tried to convince me about how beneficial she was.  How she didn't bite either of us so she was looking out for us.  Spiders are for change.  Don't worry they're quite docile.  I don't know about you...but being told their docile...is not going to make me pick up one of these.  I don't like spiders, I don't think I've ever liked spiders.  As far as I'm concerned...they're unnatural creatures that can stay far away from me.  I know I'm supposed to see the beauty in each living thing, bla bla bla.  I know all this...I still don't...like...spiders.

All that being said.  So I try to be nice, because she sitting nicely and not moving.  Instead of spraying her with something deadly...I have Branden get her in a bottle.  I'm willing to pick her up and look at her from inside said bottle...but other than that.  She can stay there.  I try to thank her for not being an evil bitch and biting my face, and that I will try to understand what she has to say.  Which may not have been the nicest way to put it...but it was about all I had after having the crap scared out of me by having her IN MY BEDROOM.

I was figuring that this is the end of the encounter.  We searched the bedroom, took down all the curtains, moved the bed out.  Life seemed okay...or so I thought.  We found one or two more on the porch, but they were outside so I gave them passage.

In comes the not-a-dream sequences a few days later. 

I find myself on an open path, walking along happily...spider free.  There were some butterflies, some trees.  It was beautiful.  Walking along the path, just chillin'.

Along a different, side path, was a girl I hadn't spoken to in a long while because of a falling out I had with her.  Recently I had been considering talking to her.  I had missed our almost daily chats and I had hoped, maybe, there was a way to move past the problems.  I made a step towards that path and a HUGE black widow scurried out in front of the path.  And when I say huge, I mean her fang was about the size of my upper body.  HUGE. 

I had backed away...there was no way I was messing with that thing.  Forget it.

So back down the main path I went.  She stalked me in the woods next to the path...keeping my pace.  Do you know uneasy it makes someone when there is a monster black widow trying to keep you company?  Uneasy doesn't even begin to cut it.

I saw another path up ahead.  There was another girl with pink hair that I had a falling out with that I had started to think I needed to maybe talk with.  (Bit of back story, I had recently decided to step down off a podcast I was doing due to some differences of opinions and some unneeded stress when handling recording.  I felt it was just time to part ways.  The people on the roads are people that I had singed bridges with while recording on the podcast.  So while I didn't think I needed to fix everything, I was considering and readjusting my perceptions on situations)  I was curious how life had been for her and how her blogging was going.  She had stopped talking to me in some strange mess of something a co-host of mine had said. 

Being she was on the other side of the giant spider of doom...I walked towards her.  Not because I thought I wanted to be her friend.  But she was SO much better than the spider of doom.

Well...let me tell you...I would never think a spider would ever move that fast while being so big.  It darted out of the woods and poked me with its front leg and moved it's mandible mouth parts.  It sounded horrible to me, and I was convinced she was going to bite me.  She was so close I saw her eyes move.  Not the whole eye move...just the inside so I could see where she was looking.  While it was cool to see spider eyes move like a snake's eye...I tried to back away...very quickly...toward the girl I used to call a friend. 

That spider lifted itself high enough to go over me, walked over to the girl...and ate her.  Just ate her.  Didn't even bite and wrap like a normal spider.  No...this spider of doom had some strange mouth parts where it just ate her.  There was some web involved somewhere along the line...but at that point I was just so horrified I didn't really care.  She just ATE someone I knew.

Then she turns around and wiggles her little fang-mandible parts and makes a weird hissy-clicky-squeaky sound while waving her one front leg.  I just stood there, figuring I was going to get pounced and eaten.  But she just took a few spider steps toward me, did it again, and poked me with her leg hard enough to nudge me back towards the other path.

Then she lowered herself and just stopped and looked at me, occasionally moving her fang-mandible things.  I'd see her eyes catching glimpses of something moving, then going back to me.  She cleaned one of her feet.  I made a small step forward and she raised up very fast, taking a step towards me and poking me again with her leg.

I back up a few more steps toward the other path and she settles back down.  I don't really want to take my eyes off of her, but she seems somehow...strangely...calm and okay.  Which just geeks me out more that I'm somewhat okay with her being huge and that close to me.

When I glance down the other path there's no clear distinction anymore to the end, it just kind of fades out.  I look back and she is still calmly watching me.  I slowly side-step to be more directly on the path...and still she doesn't move. 

Just to be safe, I walk backwards down the path so I can see her...what she's doing.  She slowly moves to the intersection of the two paths.  She still, for some reason, is less intimidating as she moves closer to my place of being...but she stops at the crossroads.  We stare at each other for a while, I hear clicking of fang-mandible things.  Then the strangest voice whispers in my head.  It sounds like someone who's been smoking a carton a day while gargling gravel.  "Time...move...on"  There was a long pause, more furious mandible-fang clicking.  "Time...move...on...go...now...new...chapters"  The mandible clicking slowed and if I am to believe what I experienced, she let go a wave of relieve and gentleness almost like one would feel when a little girl would sigh as she flopped down in a bed of wildflowers.

She then backed up a bit and moved into the woods.  I woke as she moved out of sight.

Coyote and Red-Tail Hawk, an unlikely pair

I stopped focusing on my dream-not-a-dream experiences for a while, they still happened but I managed to kinda-sorta ignore them.  Which basically means they still happen...I just pretend they don't.

So in the middle of the dreams that weren't supposed to be happening I was talking to a lovely Native woman off and on, trying to make a bit more solid sense out of what is going on in my little head.  She spoke to me about how different medicines can be perceived badly by others not because they ARE bad, but because they represent harsh medicines.  Like how Owl can represent a lot of deeper understandings of things, and looking into the dark...a lot of people still equate Owl with death.

Along that conversation I had mentioned how Coyote was coming along more often and kinda being a pain in the ass.  I had laughed about it because he would often give snark his disapproval when I was being stubborn.  I had also shared my experience where he told me I was a Red-Tailed Coyote.  She got quiet and warned me very solemnly that that Coyote leads people astray and never to trust him.  EVER.  Coyote would like that bastardization  and I don't have ANY Coyote in me.

At this point Branden piped up that he could see Coyote in my and that's another story for another day.

But long part of the story short, Branden and I had a long talk about it on the way home.  I'd love to be able to say that it was long and insightful.  But mainly it was just the normal "re-evaluate EVERYTHING I thought I understood".  It was pretty sad looking back on it.

So of course the not-a-dreams get to a point where I can't ignore them.  It only follows I suppose.

I found myself in the circle of trees Coyote brought me too last time when he turned me into a twisted totemic chimera.  He was not pleased at all with me as he paced back and forth in front of me. "Do you really think that if I was really leading you down some horrible path that your Hawk friend would not step in?  Really?"

I felt a mix between embarrassed and very offended, "How do I know?  You ARE the Trickster spirit.  How do I know that you've not just been lying to me so I learn a huge lesson the hard way?  I don't know..."  I always hate when I can't look at variables and see a solid reaction and this was kind of the epitome of what was going on.  There was no definite way to answer.  I knew how I felt...but this was Coyote...what was I next to Coyote?

Whether he heard my inner thoughts or not, he stopped pacing and padded up to me, looking at me straight in the eyes.  He no longer looked, or felt, angry...but more a mix of disappointed and sad.  "Have I ever done anything that put you in danger?"

"No...not that I know of"

He sighed, "Have I ever done anything that hurt you without warning you that you were doing stupid?"

"No"

"So where could I be leading you that is so bad?  Hmm?" He twitched his head to the side like a normal coyote does when it's trying to listen.

I sat there for a while.  I really didn't know...I had no adequate answer.  There was no sure answer one way or another.  There was only uncertainty  "Because there's always a chance that I'm wrong.  I've been wrong before when I trusted the wrong people and thought I was doing okay.  I could be misunderstanding, or misreading, or just way too trusting.  I don't know!"

He sat down and looked at me for a long time.  After a while he told me there wasn't anything that he could do with it and got up and walked away.  I was shocked and hurt and confused...and left sitting in the circle of trees.  So I sat, and looked at the trees.  Listened to the breeze.  Listened to distant water.  Continued to sit.  Found myself thinking that sitting in a different space of reality was actually quite comfortable, so I just kept sitting and enjoying the surroundings...till I heard footsteps behind me anyway.

It was a person that was coming out of the trees behind me, sort of round-middled and kind of short.  The closer he came, the more familiar he looked and the more a feeling of excitement grew.  It was my Red-Tail Hawk not-a-hawk guy!  He looked more biker-ish today with dark jeans, a black shirt with worn away white printings, a leather golf hat, and hiking boots.  "Hey there red head, what's all this going on?"

I got up and walked towards him to meet him and considered whether giving a hug was appropriate.  He took the initiative and gave me a brief, but big, bear hug.  When he let go he gave me an inquisitive mixed with reprimanding look.  "Well, what's all this about Coyote being bad for you."  He said it more as a statement than questioning what was actually going on.

To cut out a lot of retelling, I basically told him everything from my normal questioning, to my encounters with my new Native friend, back to questioning, and anything else that I felt was important.  He listened very patiently.  Somewhere along the line we ended up sitting on a log bench.  When I finally finished he smiled and lightly laughed.  "If I had to live in your head, I wouldn't get anything done!"  I just kind of dipped my head, but he just patted me on the back and laughed a bit more.  "I didn't mean you anything buy it.  But really, didn't you just hear her say that some people see totems as bad because they don't understand them?"

"Well...yes.  But she's also much more experienced that I am.  I know that she's been hurt by a coyote medicine before, but she's also been hurt by a red-tail medicine before.  Yet she gives me a warning about Coyote and not about you.  So I'm seeing that there's something there I must be missing, right?  And if she is that worried about me, and if other people have said that coyotes are dangerous, what if I'm just bullheaded and running full tilt down the wrong way?  And I haven't seen you around, so I don't want to lose having you around because I started talking to Coyote either"

He apparently found this quite amusing "Love, you're not going to lose me being around just for bein' part of Coyote pack.  You still got feathers wherever you're goin'.  You gotta stop worrying so much, you'll burn yourself out at this rate!"  He yelled out for Coyote, who came lightly trotting back from where he came from.  "Did you hear this?  You got her worried that I've not been bothering her since you're here."  He turned back to me at this point. "Darlin' you're going to have many different people comin' and goin' here.  You listened as much as you needed to with what I was telling you, so it was time for someone else that would work you in a different way.  I'm not going anywhere."

Coyote jumped up next to him on the log bench and looked intensely at me. "Didn't you get the point from our last encounter...there's much more than just one important part of you"  The man-who-is-a-hawk laughed a bit more, patted my shoulder, shook his head, patted Coyote's shoulder, "She's all yours on this one"  And then I woke up when Coyote blinked at me.